i remember once something like two years ago we were barely more than friendly acquaintances and i was a different person and you were just starting to become one

and i remember it was summer and everything should have been okay but i was ditching school having decided to be nothing that day

and i remember you asked how i was and in a moment of weakness or maybe strength i told you the truth that all i needed was physical comfort and a cigarette and i was tired of being alone, but i kept that last part to myself

and i remember you showed up not even an hour later with exactly what i needed despite never having asked that of you and we sat beside each other and though it was quiet i finally felt like something again and you smoked out my window for the first time and i took a picture of you without you knowing for the first time

i remember realizing i didn’t need to be alone

And just like that, the two most impossible things happened.

1. We were over
2. Leonardo DiCaprio won an Oscar

You're the only one I have to write about,
Though I've regained my will to live.
How much pain could I have saved us both,
I never knew how much you had to give.

Don't misunderstand me, we had to go our own ways,
I placed too much faith in how we'd separate.
Tried to save you, tried to save my idea, late,
I tried and failed, should've known,
Should've committed to my parting anger, you should've never called my phone.

I remember you in dreams, sometimes I wake up with an empty arm,
I carved my heart into a target, when you left I wanted harm,
Anything other than the shining light of warmth and bickering we grew through all the distance, but the depth and feeling between the raw ******* of *** and reeling images nestled in the difference of our wrists' width couldn't begin to cut away the lacrimal plaque in my eyes after you cracked the glass and I shot to panic.

Those winter nights inside of you,
The way we let each other in,
The way you helped me drift away from how my old man treated women,
After us I almost wandered back again.

If not for losing you I never would've reached out,
I never would've wanted so badly just to die,
You were my fated leap into the madness,
You were the push that caused my heart to fly.

I want to end us on a good note,
I'll fight like hell not to,
I'll push against that notion,
Like no one ever taught you.

I never gave you presents,
It was my way, no matter how many hints,
Or when you'd tell me right out,
Try to cover my brain in prints,

I guess I'm better off the bad guy,
Sleeping around, cold until my clothes come down,
I've moved on, but barely forward,
I've only managed not to drown.

One day I'll find a partner,
Some dawn will find a bed with two,
A house and kids, maybe a power couple,
Though even if I remain in solitude, in stone,
Even then, my life lived alone,
Would be forever changed by how much I let myself love you.

Your side of the bed remains empty
And the TV bill is at an all time low.
I walk around
My chest heavy
Trying to avoid anything
That brings back your memory.

Your favorite painting is still crooked on the wall
Due to the last time we danced and made everything fall.

The dog wants nothing to do with me
And I miss the voice that swept me off my feet.

I haven't written in days
And I miss you in more ways ....

Than 1.

2 days ago I woke up past noon,
I checked my phone,
And no messages were received

I remember waking up to 3 from you once
Complaining about how you forgot your keys.

I know your leaving was done with such certainty
And I know she's everything I'm not
And does anything you please.

My mom said she saw your wedding invitation on Facebook
Last week, said she messaged you and you remain so sweet.

I'm chained to the everlasting memory of you,
And all those times I told you I'd die 4 you.

I'm in bed by 5
And look out at the moon
I wonder if she's ever told you
She'd die for you too.

I like to call this counting crows.

A boy told me he liked me while I was high and crying listening to some indie *******.
My ex girlfriend smoked everyday, 3:11 pm, after school in her backyard, and I guess that is sort of cringeworthy.

Tell me you like me.

I like to call this counting crows.

And I wish I was pretty without make up, but I sold my soul and became demoralized. 

My ex boyfriend split his wrist one day and blamed me, and I guess that is sort of cringeworthy.

Tell me you’re okay.

I like to call this counting crows.

And you really can’t call me pretty because once, I loved someone and they called me pretty, but now he says I’m not the same-
He said I’m glass, but I always thought I was marrow.

I like to call this counting crows.

And I keep throwing up water and candy and syllables, but you won’t like me once you reach the smell,

And I’ve been empty for a long time,
but eating and eating and eating will only make you nauseated.

There is a pit in my stomach filled with sand.

I like to call this counting crows.

And I didn’t expect to meet you here, but there you are smiling at me with top and bottom marbles that I’d love to play with someday.

And here I am rubbing my knees trying to stand up without looking as feeble as I feel-

I remember little things.

Princess Diana died on my birthday.

It takes one man to change a light bulb and a woman to light it.

What the **** was the punchline?

I really want to sleep.

My best friend keeps making plans.

I want to kiss you shoulders.

Please lock the door”

She walks away
Fast and steady
You stand there
Quickly realizing that
She's your ex now

You continue your life
Trying hard to act normal
Trying hard to forget
But you can't forget
Because she's your ex

A few months pass
You learned to fake a smile, to recover
But that effort is gone
When she starts dating her ex
Because shes your ex

You get mad, frustrated
Not understanding why
Why she caused you all this pain
Why... How
How has your ex forgotten you already

She stands there
Unaware of your presence
Her curvy body that used to make you smile
Makes you cry in your heart
In your soul

You chat every now and then
About whats going on
You bring up her relationship and bring up yours
She confesses... She never loved you
Never has, never will

She did it again
She broke your heart
You showed weakness again, and she struck
You limp on, trying to find a new light
A new love
A new love that would love you

I am the sun
that your petals turn towards
when it is warm enough
for you to blossom

I am the rain
that you soak up and crave
in times of positivity droughts
and purposeful dehydration

I am afraid
to deny you what you need
in fear that I will be the cause
of your untimely death

I am reminded
that one must be without water
to appreciate the rain
and experience days of darkness
to fall in love with the sun

For this reason,
I do not move under the moonlight
when you require daybreak
even though my body
so desperately wants to burn

I’m staring at the moon
on a such a gorgeous night,
And I start to realize now,
You’re the one I want for life.

I’ve kept these feelings hidden,
But its time I let them out.
Because you mean everything to me,
And it’s you I don’t want to live without.

You’re beautiful,
In ways I can’t describe.
You give me butterflies in my stomach
And make me feel alive.

Whenever I think of you,
I just can’t help but smile.
You fill me with such happiness
and make my life worth while.

Without you I am nothing,
With you I am strong.
And I’m thankful everyday,
That you finally came along.

You’re everything I hoped for,
With a few surprises too.
My heart beats out of my chest
Whenever I spend time with you.

You’re my sliver lining,
When times are getting tough.
I’m always thinking of you,
And always long to feel your touch.

I’ll always cherish you,
And your heart I will not break.
And if meeting you is all a dream,
It is one from which I do not wish to wake.

I look into your eyes,
And feel the world disappear.
You’re the one whom I cherish,
And the one I hold most dear.

And love may be a tragedy,
It is one I’ll happily endure.
Because I know what I feel for you,
Is from my heart, faithful and pure.

I don’t how many times I can say it,
But I wish to say it more.
The one regret I do hold though,
Is I wanted to tell you before.

But I’ve grown up a lot,
And I thank Jesus everyday.
Because you are in my life,
And he sent you to earth, my way.

Everything about you is gorgeous,
Perfect in every detail.
Beautiful beyond recognition,
And in comparison, everyone else pales.

This is my gift to you,
It contains my heart, but also my soul too.
After all, I couldn’t keep them,
Because they’ll always belong to you.

I picture them in a balmy hallway,
far-corner huddled; quietly, urgently
comparing their notes on ways I have loved.

They'll laugh at lame jokes and avoid eye contact,
each surprised by their own awkwardness.
One of them will quip the term
'eskimo brother'
and immediately wish he hadn't.
The rest will kindly ignore it.
The moment will pass.

They will slowly shed their discomfort.
They will remove their coats.
Sweat will bloom at collars
and trace knotty bumps of spine before
pooling into the space between
boxers and belt.

They won't openly discuss the
strange comradery
that accompanies the lazy river evenings spent drifting down the same mind-
but the tension pulling across
each of their jaws
will announce loud and clear
how frustrating it has
been to be cropped,
tucked in, paper fortune teller folded
and wrapped up into someone else’s idea of poetry.


Casually
then all at once,
they will get started.
Printed pages will uncoil from backpacks,
phones will emerge from pockets
and fingers slightly shaking
will chase the letters
of my name through search engines.

My sticky poems will fan out across floorboards.
They will lower their bodies carefully, not quite kneeling,
(and without mention of the bad knees they happen to share.)
They'll hover above each piece of evidence
and their eyes will crash along titles and memories-
they'll read with raised
eyebrows and pretend as if
they don't already know
each poem, each quick dig, by heart.

When they start claiming
and denying pieces
they will do so lightly
and without judgment.
'This piece is about you and the dry, delicate
tissue-shell of skin
she held out for you after you told
her to shed.
But this piece- this piece is about me
and the messy ointment
that ruined her clothes and
stained her blankets.
A doctor instructed she
apply the ointment to her hands
twice a day to treat
the burns my silence left
across her arms and throat.'

They will share a bit of rage,
A bit of regret.
A bit of shame, perhaps.
They will either miss me intensely
or not at all.
They will either own up
to the poems they begat
or begin refuting.
They don’t want any of
this chilly weight on their soul.
I understand.

They didn’t sign up for this, I know that.
They didn’t set out to rock me,
nor to dig down deep and get to my China.
I was happy to share, to whisper and recite blurry
morning confessions and epiphanies.
I was right behind them running toward the sand dunes,
waving a shovel and pail.
But I can’t feel bad either.
You all must have known:

If you happen to fall for a girl
who writes you must realize
that every smile you put on her face,
every stray hair you’ve pushed back from her eyes,
and quick habit she starts to crave
is fair game.

If a girl who writes happens to fall for you too--
forget it.
You will find echoes of the way your souls fit and fought
together until she has nothing left to feel on the subject;
(and you must be well aware
she's tidal, her feelings are icecaps,
they are melting but will trickle fresh
and renewed for centuries to come.)

It’s a puzzle
thinking what is salient
complications become proliferate

Hands on quarter position
evoking my inner senses
too late in one’s niche

It’s my inhibition
brought me in subliminal
My entire life,
without her presence

Cumulative heuristics
with other girls
and other boys
drawing some vague experiences

And I just thought
we can’t hold on
together
but we can move on

It’s crazy as I think
of you and me again
upon my emotional scrutiny
You're my drama.