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[ August 10th ]
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[ June 12th ]
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[ November 11th ]
sometimes i need you when i can't need you,
like at three in the morning when i know you're sleeping. like when i can't even call you just to make sure that you still exist. or that you ever existed.

sometimes i need you so bad i trace lines into a map until i reach you.
i spin around a globe until i find you.

sometimes i feel like i'd even spin around the world if i had to.

sometimes i calculate how far my body is from yours. how many steps would it take until i could touch the center of your chest? kiss the center of your lips?

mapquest doesn't consider my body a starting location.
it doesn't understand me when i say that you're my destination.

not even mapquest, with it's inifinite wisdom, could tell me how many "i'm sorry"'s it would take to get back to you. or even how many tears it would take to move past you.

i'm not sure i know either.

but i do know that i don't want to stay here.
i can either go back or i can go forward.
pick one.
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[ November 9th ]
i wish these thoughts of you and of me didn't nest themselves in the folds of my brain, forming cobwebs in the corners and cracks that, even if i wanted to, i couldn't reach to clean.

thoughts like It's My Fault and I Still Love You. thoughts that scream so loud i cover my eyes ears mouth - anywhere the thought might seep out of and onto the floor. i don't need another mess to clean up, my hands are already full.

thoughts that are devestating in their unoriginality.
i can't even decide if i feel happy or sad that when i walk down any given street on any given day at any given time, half the people i pass have felt this. have thought this.

thoughts that are full of your face and your voice, your smell and the green pants folded on my desk that i can't bring myself to give back to you.

stupid thoughts. thoughts that i let myself think when i know i shouldn't. the similarities between our first and last kiss. all those nights my body was on yours. the television and the tortillini. the way you would hold my hand while you were driving and the poem i wrote about it. the brown lake, the bed. the differences between our first and last kiss - the way i didn't see the end coming, not even then.

these thoughts, i tuck them in at night like you used to to me. i play with their hair until they fall asleep, i tell them stories if they ask. and in the morning, they tug at my bed sheets until i get up. where you used to be, now they are. i wonder when they will up and leave me too.
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[ November 1th ]
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[ October 30th ]
survivingCollapse )
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anything [ March 28th ]
there are some things i wish i could take back:
my hair brushing against your bare skin,
the things that happen underneath blankets.
in the dark we are something else.
we are nothing, and so we can be
anything.
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milos [ March 22th ]
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(you) [ February 1th ]
i want to be
wrapped around you like parenthesis,
our limbs intertwined like letters turned to words
our souls and skeletons close enough to be connected,
almost as if there were a semi-colon or an ampersand sitting
between us

looking at the bright asterisks in the dark parts of your eyes
shining like makeshift stars, shining like the most beautiful
metaphor i have ever
seen.

listening to the silence, the loud shouting shaking silence filled with
breathing and spaces and pages and pages
and sentences written with invisible ink that we can't see, but can
feel.

i want to be
merged together with you like a contraction
like how the joining of ‘do’ and ‘not’ forms ‘don’t’,
so we don’t know where i end
so we don’t know where you begin,
almostasifwewereaseriesofwords
strungtogether
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thawing [ January 24th ]
i love you in the cold of snow and ice,
in the way my name lingers outside your mouth
after you say it. in the way you breathe each syllable out like an exhale of smoke. a-my.

i love you in the abruptity of winter.
the sudden way it comes and crushes all of us with white.
it's like the opposite of closing your eyes. it's like opening them. and seeing you.

i love you in the warmth of my bedroom,
how each layer of clothing you take off feels like a discovery,
like i'm visiting territory that hasn't even been named yet.

i love your shivers and goosebumps, and i love your heartbeat.

i love you in november, in december, in january and february.
my little snow angel, my winter wonderland.
i love you.
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a series of poems documenting the rise and fall of me and you [ December 28th ]
1. i want to start with a beginning:
a seed in the soil, the first flake of snow to drift down to the ground.
you are that seed, that flake,
that beginning.
it might take a while for a flower to form, for white to seal over everything,
for me to finish what you started.
but i know that you will wait.

2. i want to know you and your everything,
everything about everything about you.
i want to go up a ribcage stairwell
to the dusty thoughts in your attic
that no one has seen in years (not even you),
until i reach your afterthoughts, your sidenotes
the content inside of parenthesis
in the autobiography written inside of the coils of your brain.
i want to know
you and all of you
and everything about everything about
you.

3. i want to always be there for you
the way that you are always there for me.
you are my asylum
and you are my sanctuary.
you are the place i go to
when i feel crazy and afraid.

4. i want to kiss you in every language that i know,
to je'taime you, to te quiero you,
to lay my body against yours until we merge,
until i become an extension of you
like braille, like bumps on a sheet of plastic.
i'd touch you and understand.

5. i want to stay like this forever,
our chests rising and falling
in opposition.
up down up down up down
down up down up down up.
i'm inhaling your exhale.
I'M INHALING
YOUR EXHALE.
and it is too much
(or not enough).

6. i want to let you know
that if my lips were eyes,
then surely your mouth would be their lids.
and you would fall over me whenever i got tired,
whenever i didn't have enough energy to face the world
or the people in it,
and everything would become blurry like a dream,
like the center of a cloud, like the imprint of light
in darkness.

7. i want to fight through this feeling
of not wanting to fight through these feelings anymore.
but how can i carry this heavy heart of yours around
when i can barely stand the weight of my own?

8. i want to hear you say that
you will not put our verbs in past tense.
you will not say that you loved me.
you will not deny a future between us,
however impossible one may seem.

9. i wanted to have a beginning with you,
to know you inside and out,
to be there for you,
to kiss you in every language,
to inhale all of your exhales,
to let you make everything blurry,
to carry your heart through it all,
to have the impossible with you.

10. i never wanted it to end like this.
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[ November 25th ]
-amy
-nikia
-jessika
-yasmin
-jenny
-jamie jonhson
-jessica

SECRET SANTA
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things that are red and fragile [ October 19th ]
you grabbed my face with one hand
and held the red flower i gave you
in the other
as we kissed you held them
tighter
like you were holding my heart
my cranberry heart
and the way the juice dripped,
the sweet, red juice and how it was yours to drink up
and oh, how you drank up.
but when you pulled away and let go
only a crumpled crimson mess remained
of the flower and of my bitter heart.
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detachment [ October 17th ]
we lay there like moving statues,
so cold, eyes so hard

and though we were touching, we didn't
feel anything
at all.
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[ October 12th ]
if my lips were eyes then surely your mouth would be their lids
you would fall over me whenever i got tired
whenever i didn't have enough energy to face the world
or the people in it
and everything would become blurry like a dream
like the center of a cloud like the imprint of light
in darkness
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foreign tongue [ October 2th ]
i never got to tell you what i had planned to,
that i want to kiss you in every language that i know,
to je'taime you, to te quiero you,
to tattoo the outline of your body over me
or let you lay there until you just become an extension of me
like braille, like bumps on a sheet of plastic.
i'd touch you and understand.

do you ever wonder how my hands would feel on you?
on your face, your body, your insides and outsides?
i want to cup your cheeks with my palms,
the way God cups the world,
the way dirty beggars in the city cup their coins,
the way they (the way you, the way i) would do anything
just to get a little bit from a stranger.

but we're not strangers, are we? are we?
we smile, we wave. we don't kiss.
does that make us strangers?

next time i see you i will grab you by the neck and
kiss you in every language that i know and don't know.
i want to leave a trail of wet vowels on your collarbone,
rough consonant bites on your jaw.
i'll speak to you with this foreign tongue

and i won't stop until it becomes familiar.
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my fault [ September 2th ]
my fingers move over my lips.
they travel across the pink flesh.
pinching and peeling, they are only satisfied once i can taste
my own blood.

it is one of my bad habits,
something i do when i'm anxious or in deep concentration.

tonight it is both.

you wouldn't know this, that this is a thing i do.
and that is probably my fault,
the fact that i didn't let you know this little thing, or the rest of
my little things. the types of little things that you would only tell a lover - fears, dreams, secrets, bad habits -
those.

tonight it reminds me of you.

the way you would have loved to be my fingers,
to glide across my mouth whenever you wanted.
and i suppose that this is also probably my fault,
my fault that you want to do this and my fault that you can't.
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[ August 28th ]
what is red and white with black all over?
our hearts poured out on the bedsheets
my hair all over your skin
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red [ August 28th ]
i drew a picture on white paper.
for you

red washable marker in hand, i moved it across the page,
never picking it up, never breaking the connection

lines were overlapping
were frantic diagnols
were hurried circles

scribbles.

when i handed it to you,
you asked me what it was.
no thought, no preparation, just words
as if it was the most obvious thing in the world
as if you could just stare at the picture, and know
as if i had planned it to be this the moment red collided with white
the moment red collided with us

"love"
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[ August 28th ]
what is it to be alive?

is it the metronome, ticking ticking ticking
in your chest?

is it the ocean, the brainwaves
and how they move?

what is it to be alive and then to not be alive?

what is it to cease?

is it sitting in the forest
while a tree is falling,
in complete silence
and everything is so quiet, so hushed
that it almost feels loud

and still, you can't even hear your own breathing?
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