this is not poetic

You wrote me like a poem

convinced that together

we could create something poetic

You wrote me like a poem

too structured, too perfect

time frames & rhyme schemes

but you should know

I have a fear of commitment

You wrote me like a poem

placing too much weight on adjectives

you hadn't yet earned the right to use

You wrote me like a poem

your style noticeably lacking

overwhelming me with word choice

making me feel tone-deaf

You wrote me like a poem

harsh diction & excessive syllables

too much too soon

backed up against the door with my fingers clasping the handle

and escape routes in the back of my mind

You wrote me like poem

but this line breakage between us

is years in the making

and the distance is too much

You wrote me like a poem

as if I was the most important thing

to have ever escaped your lips

And I did.

stomach cartwheels and a fear of heights

we climbed the ladder and my teeth chattered. 

my spine chattered. 

my knees chattered.

my mind chattered.

i was nervous--afraid of heights

taking it slow, but taking it in

we sat atop the city that night

and saw a shooting star...the closest one i've ever seen

we laughed and spoke of things that matter

alone and closer than we've ever been

it's the way he talks about his future

the picture he finger-paints with careful hands

his idea of love in every detail,

using any and all shades of red

it's the way my stomach does cartwheels

and i take cover when the sparks start to fly

because i've learned to be afraid of real things

and something this real can't be denied

it's the way his eyes matched the jacket that wasn't blue or green

the way they are a color somewhere beautifully in between

i see it when i close my eyes, the way he looks at me gently

not searching for or expecting anything--just seeing.

but even more than this it's just the way i feel around him...

happy. loved. alive.

accidental

he's the kind that takes time
he wraps himself in the blankets of your mind
and stays there until it feels just right

he talks a lot
but he does it with a fish-hook smile
luring you in, causing you
to hang on his every word
catch & release
catch & release

he laughs and says he was an "accident"
but with every glance into those bright blue eyes
I try to let him know

"if you're an accident, then you're the very best kind"

happy birthday.

Tonight he lies awake

counting stars & arranging the constellations into the shapes of her eyes

Tonight she lies awake

trying to find the words to say

"I just wish I loved you the same way."

heart races

you're testing my athleticism
pushing me out of bounds
and I'm coming up defenseless.
we're running too fast
hearts racing for the 72 hours
that have past.
whistles blow all around us
but all I can hear
are the breaths between you and me.
your eyes seek finish lines
but darling I'm afraid
you won't find those in mine

thinking on an empty stomach

she feels empty, but she doesn't know where the hollow feeling is coming from

it could be her heart--too many pieces of it bought a one way ticket to halfway around the world and I don't know if you've ever seen the shape of a human heart, but it makes a complicated puzzle even when all the pieces are accounted for. the first pieces were lost when she wasted too much time with a white knuckle grip on his every word and it wasn't long before she was reaching for something that was too far gone... and that was only the beginning.

but maybe the emptiness she feels resides behind her eyelids.  blank stares, glances at the ceiling, or too many hours spent watching trashy reality TV.  Her eyes are glazed and unfocused, unaware that each blink keeps time with the ticks of the clock--a constant countdown, eager to see the future unfold.

maybe the emptiness has engulfed her mind.  she longs for a spark of creativity, but the lights ran out of energy and now it's too dark in here to change the bulbs.  she searches her mind for beautiful moments of the past but sometimes the photographic memories are blurred and faded, too far gone.

maybe the emptiness she feels is the hunger in her stomach... she can't decide if she's paranoid about the freshman 15, or if she's just hungry for something more than counterfeit PB&Js and frozen pizza and Spongebob Mac&Cheese.  in the meantime, she fills voids of happiness with barbecue chips, but it's always short-lived.

she wonders if there's possibly a lack of oxygen in her lungs, as breathing has never been her strongest suit--blame it on the asthma, blame it on the altitude of the mountains she climbed only to find disappointment at the top. she's drowning in fear but knows she has nothing to be afraid of

but maybe the emptiness she feels, isn't emptiness at all.

maybe the emptiness is waiting patiently

for something more beautiful than the past

to fill in the cracks.

natural disaster

a tornado in my mind

an earthquake in my heart

a flash flood beneath my eyelids

lightning strikes at every nerve

hurricanes brew within my lungs

avalanches race down my spine

but i tell myself i'm fine.