I used to write for fear of forgetting.
I stopped writing for fear of remembering.
Your arms loosening from around me
as you said final thoughts of us.
Your taillights trailing down the street.
Mirroring the floodgates from my eyes.

Now I have the typewriter you gave me.
An incessant reminder of all the words I never said.
All the words that are too late to make up for time lost.

I wrote to you anyway.

Without the intention of winning you.
Only hoping not to lose you,
the only person who could scare the **** out of me
and make me feel like I was floating
using one stupid look
that made me fall ceaselessly and unnervingly
in love with you.

I wanted you to know
that all of my convictions
that true love and fate
were just lies that are spoon-fed to us
so that we aren't starved by an empty life,
it all wavered when you smiled at me.

I want to tell you
that I used to never have dreams
and now you're in all of them.
Making reality that much harder.

Every letter was returned.

So I hear you need a rebel-- or maybe
someone to just hear you out. I like your profile,
your bio, the blurbs you write about your life--
but tell me more about you.

How do you break down your personality
01101101 01100101
into 140 characters or less?

May I suggest we meet face-to-face? Video chat
tomorrow at 5:00, sure, but that's not
what I meant.

I don't want the pixels, the lag, the type face, the webcam-filtered,
LED monitor dating profile.
I want the flesh,
the bone, unedited-- the words before they're deleted
and perfected to the point where you finally feel
comfortable enough to hit
Enter.

But you can't "put yourself out there" if you don't get out.

I want you beyond the screen, disconnected from the Internet
connections and matchmaking engines, filling up the tank
and searching for yourself.

I want you, bumbling and goofy, your foot nervously
tapping as we make awkward eye contact, gazing
not into machines and technology but into
pure, unadulterated life.

I place my heart inside a jar
and shove it to the side.
If I said it did not hurt, well, I guess
I must have lied.

They say if you die in a dream
you are dead, but what happens
when your dreams die
and you wish you were?

I just want you
to be happy
but sometimes
and selfishly
I want to be
your happiness

But
'happiness is a choice'
you say
and you didn't choose me

I clung onto the idea
since you made me happy
it would be the same for you

What is happiness now?
where has it gone to?
In time, society has robbed us
the real meaning of happiness

Go on your own way
and pursue your happiness
for your smile, is my smile
your laugh, is my laugh

and I'll be happy
when you find your happiness
because I love you
always have, always will

love me once,
leave me twice,
the first
i let it go.
school and friends,
compromise,
you told me
"don't do so."

love me once,
leave me twice,
i knew you,
all too well.
promised words;
a broken heart,
down the hole
i fell.

love me once,
leave me twice,
you left me
all alone.
with lack of warmth
and happiness,
without you
was not home.