I have watched you age.

I have watched the rivers of Time

Mold your face.

I have not heard your voice

Sing in years.

I have not heard your fingers

Play in years.

I remember being 25,

I remember Rome.

I remember our neighbors,

The Morrisons.

Oh, how we wanted to grow old together.

If only we had known what it meant–

Whether it would have made us not want to,

Or want to more,

We can not be sure–

But I still wish we had known what it meant.

I wish we had known it meant

Only dusting once a month.

Cooking the same 21 meals every week-

Sometimes in a different order.

Watching both of us forget how to

Punctuate our letters.

Starting to write letters again.

Then starting to realize you do not really care

Enough to anymore.

Slowly, I have started to care less

About a lot of things,

But never you.

Because I have watched you age.

I have watched the rivers of Time

Mold your face.

I have not heard your voice

Sing in years.

I have not heard your fingers

Play in years.

But you are still beautiful–

To me.

@asterisk !!

When you were 4 years old

You asked your mom if the stove was hot,

But you touched it anyway,

And you learned.

You learned to not touch the stove

Because heat causes pain.

Even now at the age of 17

You remember the pain.

You do not want to experience it again

So you shy away from stoves,

Even when they are off.

When you were 11 years old

You came home to your childhood

Pet sleeping.

Except, he was not,

And you learned.

You learned that everything is temporary.

You learned to not think something is permanent

Because it will fade.

Even now at the age of 17

You remember the pain,

You do not want to experience it again,

So you shy away from dogs,

Even when they’re adorable.

When you were 17 years old

Your heart was broken,

And you learned.

You learned that people leave,

You learned not to love

Because love hurts.

And even now at the age of 19

You remember the pain,

But you have not really learned.

You still chase the charming smiles

And the soothing voices.

You imagine lips as a stove,

You know it will hurt,

But somehow you do not care.

So intil your brain can learn

You will touch the stove.

You will buy pets.

And you will continue to love.

-Maybe I don’t want to learn

My therapist asks why I don’t smile anymore, I tell him a story of a girl and her cat. A girl who wakes up, whose belief system depends on her believing that she is not enough, that she is a disappointment. There are things she does not talk about. Places she does not go. There are parts of her body she does not show. And it is not the parts you would think. She wears a jacket and jeans to school to cover up those parts of her. Not her boobs, or her butt. Not her shoulders, her collarbone. But her arms. And her thighs. Because without them she has to make excuses. “That damn cat” she says smiling at the person asking about the cuts up her arm, “It is always scratching me”. Because Anyone who knows judges her, tells her she is doing it for attention, or else she would hide it. She wears a jacket and jeans to school she puts on a smile. And it’s not her fault. She wakes up every morning and looks in the mirror blind, not seeing herself but the image she gives off to the world. She sees through eyes of self hatred. She comes to school with a jacket and jeans on. The cat must have gotten her again. No one asks. No one gives her the attention they think she is cravingbut all she wants is for someone to help her. So she lays in bed at night an artist, the razor her paint brush and her arm the canvas, she paints. Illustrating the pain. The suffering. She does a great job. She needs help. She does not want any more meds any more happiness is a decision. Therapist after therapist all they want is to give you more medicine. She does not want anymore medicine. She is not broken, she is just damaged. She’s locked out of her own body trying to cut herself in through her wrists, trying to replace her blood with her mind as she empties her arm. That damn cat. It has scratched up her arm again. Her mom reserves her a nice hotel room, she says. A hotel room with one table, two chairs, three magazines, four walls. No sharp objects. No glass, no metal. No window. No reason to live. It feels like a permanent residency. The hotel food sucks. Three small meals that taste more like cardboard than meat. With six tasteless candies before breakfast and after dinner. Candies that must be taken with a glass of water and before or after eating. The kids at school say she is on vacation. She has taken a trip to a place with one window, two pieces of paper, three pencils, four walls. No sharp objects, no reason to try anymore. No willpower. Her stay is not permanent, she is getting better, just slowly. Now she only has four candies with her breakfast and dinner. Her walls no longer have padding on them. They leave her door open. she is allowed to wander around the lobby, feeling like a guest in her own body and never able to check out. She wants to check out. But she can not. So she wanders, she talks to the other people on vacation. One is back from war, another celebrating a divorce, the third is commemorating his drug problem, there is the fourth and the fifth who do not talk. They just stare. Like everyone at school, She came back today, everyone asked where she went. She said to Europe, or was it Japan, maybe California? She can not remember. She smiles more now. She laughs harder. But she still does not recognize herself on dates with her mirror. She feels as if it wishes to be seeing someone else. She comes to school with jeans and a jacket. But now, no one needs to ask. We all know it wasn’t the cat. So he looks at me blank faced and so I stand up and Leave, because there’s nothing anyone can say that will ever make it better.

When my eyes met your chocolate brown ones for the very first time,

My heart stopped. My breathing no longer continued.

I could not bring my chest to rise and fall

or my lungs to fill with oxygen.

I was breath taken.

You are breathtaking.

As a person who has always known the right words to say,

I was pretty damn speechless.

I had no words for the type of feeling that I was experiencing—

why my heart was still,

But also racing,

No explanation for the lump in my throat

Or the choked “hello” that squeaked out of it.

When my eyes met yours for the first time,

I knew.

I knew you would become my gravity.

Holding me to this rock in space that we both call home.

How lucky could I be to live on the same planet as someone as beautiful as you.

With someone who had skin as soft as yours,

Teeth as white,

Smile as lovely as yours.

How I could be so lucky is beyond me.

When my eyes met yours for the second time—

I was just as speechless.

Even after having gone home and practiced my “hello”,

My “are you busy”,

My “we should hang out sometime”,

I still choked out a half a phrase and a smile.

I have never been speechless before,

But now, every time I see your smile, I can not find my words,

And I stumble over the ones that I can.

I wish I knew what to say to you,

But for now, a smile will have to suffice.

When we hugged for the first time

It was a warmth spreading throughout my body.

The slow, thawing of my battered and frozen heart.

You were not scared of my battered and frozen love.

You welcomed it.

And then, when my hand touched yours for the very first time I almost collapsed.

You made my knees go weak.

The jolt of electricity that shot through my body was impossible ignore,

And made it just as impossible to breathe.

I sharply inhaled and I felt a throbbing in my heart,

I looked at you and you smiled.

It was radiant.

You are radiant.

Giving off the best vibe even when you are unhappy,

Even when you do not want to smile,

Even when you have reopened the scars on your arm—

You make me feel warm inside.

And when my lips finally touched yours for the first time,

They burned.

My ears grew hot,

My face turned bright red.

The exhilarating rush you gave me when your lips pressed against mine in an unpracticed kiss, was indescribable.

Making me want to scream,

But in fear of what words, or noises would come out,

I remained silent.

I told you I enjoyed it.

The second time you kissed me,

We stayed there a bit longer,

Parted our lips a little more,

Held each other a little tighter.

The third time,

And the fourth,

It got even better.

Every time we would pull away and smile,

Look each other in the eye and tell the other that we enjoyed it.

What I have wanted to say is,

”kiss me again”

Or “never let me go”

Or “gosh, I could kiss you for ever.”

So please,

Kiss me,

Never let go,

Because I could kiss you forever.

Hold me in your arms and hold me there forever.

And as my lips fall onto yours for what could be the last time,

Never pull away.

Kiss me forever.

For I am scared of what will happen if you do not.

Please, do not leave me.

Kiss me again,

Never let go.

And now,

As my eyes lay on yours for what could be the very last time.

I feel sad.

I feel a type of sadness I have never felt before.

I feel my heart hurt.

I am speechless,

I do not know what to say.

So I say nothing.

My heart stops.

My breathing no longer continues.

I can not bring my chest to rise and fall or my lungs to fill with oxygen.

So I hold your hand in mine, for what could be the very last time.

I think about the things I may do without you.

How, I will wander into the middle of intersections

And climb to the top of buildings, leaning over the edge,

Begging the earth to reclaim me.

I will get as far from the ground as possible for, on me, it has lost it’s gravity.

It can no longer hold me here for,

You no longer hold me here.

So I will savor this moment,

And every moment before.

Kiss me again,

Never let me go.

My palms sweat,

My face burns,

My legs are on fire,

My feet tingle,

My toes curl,

Your lips leave mine and I smile.

My heart is beating quickly,

And all I can say is 'I love you'

You say it back.

My heart flutters,

And we place our foreheads against each other's.

I look into your deep blue eyes,

Blue as the sea

And you say you love me..

I say it back.

Between the sound of our breaths,

And the beating of our hearts,

I have so much to say,

But I do not know what.

So I tell you you are beautiful,

You say thank you.

I stare at the space between us,

And feel your vibrations in the air.

I have so much to say,

But I do not know how to say it,

So I tell you a story.

I tell you I had a crush on a girl for 5 years,

From the day I met her,

To the day she disappeared.

I wish I had told her how I felt.

I never did.

I thought about it,

I calculated every response,

I had numbers for every outcome.

But I never predicted her disappearance.

I never knew how she went,

I dreamt of pirates and canons.

Of street races and cop cars.

I dreamt up fantasies.

But she just left,

On an ordinary monday.

The sun still rose,

And the clouds still moved.

I still got up.

I tell you this and you smile.

Your lips curl up at the corners,

And you say you love how I am with numbers.

I tell you I love numbers because they never change,

They always have a set value,

You can do so much with them,

But they never change.

1 will always equal 1,

2 will always equal 2,

And i will always equal to the amount of love I have for you,

Immeasurable,

An imaginary number with a quantity so large that it is deemed immeasurable,

Therefor imaginary.

Then it all turns around,

And 1 still equals 1,

2 still equals 2,

And i is still equal to the amount of love you had for me,

Immeasurable,

An imaginary number with a quantity so small that it is deemed immeasurable.

Therefore imaginary.

I tell you another story.

I say I loved you,

From the day I met you until the day I hurt you.

I wished I had a chance to take it back.

I calculated every possibility,

I had the numbers for everything.

But I never predicted your disappearance.

I dreamt of another man,

I dreamt of I love you's,

And another set of lips.

I dreamt of someone else.

But I know how you left—

You left with pain,

And anger,

And hate...

You left on an ordinary Monday.

The sun still rose

And the clouds still moved.

I still got up,

But I did not smile.

I got up with the pain of hurting you bearing on my shoulders.

I get up,

And I go to all the places we ever went,

Like a man visiting his home again,

I feel like I am trespassing here.

It does not feel the same.

The corner where we kissed,

No longer feels like home.

The coffee shop where we met,

No longer feels like home.

So I sit,

And I wait.

For you.

I try to catch a glimpse of an Angel.

I go everywhere.

Trying to find you,

Longing for the silence between our breaths,

The pulsing of our heartbeat.

I do not find it.

Then one day,

Years later,

Sitting at a bar,

I see you,

Sitting there all alone.

I can hear your breath,

Feel your heartbeat in my throat.

I walk over and you seem surprised.

I have so much to say but I do not know what.

My heart is beating quickly,

And all I can say is I love you.

You do not say it back.

So I go home.

I go to my balcony,

My palms sweat,

My face burns,

My legs are on fire,

My feet tingle,

My toes curl,

I feel your lips on mine,

And I smile.

Then, I fall.

On an ordinary monday.

The sun still rose

The clouds still moved.

But I did not get up.

It is silent tonight.

Dead silent.

Not the kind of silent that I usually experience,

today it is truly... silent.

I’m gonna tell you something.

There are eight parts of me.

Eight people with names that all are a part of me.

They coexist in my mind

having conversations,

warning me,

being paranoid.

Sometimes... it gets a little crowded in there.

So I live for nights like these.

Nights where my mind is silent,

And everyone is tucked away in bed.

I think without refrain,

For no one is talking,

enjoying my thoughts

because when it is loud,

my thoughts do not feel like they are mine,

and even the ones that are,

They do not feel safe.

It is on nights like these that you can catch a smile on my face.

Nights where I can bathe in my own thoughts,

Sit in peace and quiet

For it is peaceful.

It is quiet.

it is serene.

So as I lay up, looking at the moon,

I think.

I think of all the places I would like to go,

The people I would like to meet,

And I smile.

I smile at the thoughts playing through my mind,

memories I like to relive

only while I am alone.

I begin to think of my father.

Of all the Starbucks dates,

Him holding my hand.

Or of him picking me up and throwing me up into the air

Before catching me,

Always catching me.

Finally, I think of him leaving.

And I cry.

I look up at the wavy image of the moon,

Distorted by my tears,

And I smile.

I let the tears fall down my cheek

And I stick my tongue out,

Tasting the salty liquid running down my face.

My tears hit my knees

And they fall to my bed.

The pain slowly leaving my body.

I feel a lightness in me as I get to relive these moments,

Normally tucked away for safekeeping.

I get to miss him.

I swing my knees over the edge

And sit on my window sill,

Dangling my feet off of my two story high window.

Memories flooding my brain.

My mouth curls up.

I feel my feet tingle with fear

As I remember days at Disneyland,

Skipping down Main Street.

I long to be a kid again,

Carefree and..

Well, happy.

But I can not.

So I settle for the silence.

I settle for tonight.

Because I know tomorrow

I will have to tuck away my hopes

And my dreams.

I know tomorrow

It will not be silent.

So I sit and look up at the moon

And its stars and I smile.

I settle for,

freedom.

You and I sit in the car,

Rain beating down on the windshields,

And we say, I love you.

Our words almost drowned out by the

pounding of rain on the metal of my

car.

I say I love you.

You write it something on a spare napkin

in permanent ink,

I read it. “I love you”

I open the car door

And run to the office building,

Rain beating on my head.

I feel the gentle tap tap on my head,

As the rain soaks my suit.

I clutch the napkin tighter.

I reach the warm cover and look back,

You are gone.

Driven away into the storm back home.

I stand and say I love you

Into the beating rain,

Hoping that you feel it.

I get in the elevator

And hear your voice “I love you”.

I have not forgotten.

I feel your hand on my chest,

And your lips on my cheek.

I have not forgotten.

I think of my dad,

I wonder how he faded so fully..

So completely…

How he was so…

Temporary.

I still feel his hand on my cheek as he

said goodbye…

Though, it has faded.

I try to think of his voice,

But I can’t remember the sound his

vibrations made.

I can’t remember the tone of the

compressed air

Or the frequency of his voice.

He said forever.

But no,

one day he left without a trace.

Everyone always told me it would get

Better. I believed them.

They are wrong,

It still hurts.

Pain is temporary they say.

I disagree.

Happiness is temporary.

I look down at my shirt,

The colors are faded with use.

What was once a sharp black

Is now a dull grey.

I look back at memories,

They are faded with years of stress.

What was once a sharp black

Is now a dull grey.

I feel lonely now.

I remember the napkin in my pocket with

those words,

I love you.

I have not forgotten.

I don’t feel lonely anymore,

I know I have you.

I pull the napkin out of my pocket,

And put it next to my computer.

I close my eyes,

And I remember you,

Laying in bed with your hair sprawled out

over a pillow as I stare.

There are words in my stare,

Words that cannot be said with a tongue,

Or with a pair of lips,

Unspeakable words.

I open my eyes and look at the napkin,

The ink is running,

And I cannot read the three words that

mean so much.

What was a sharp black

Is now a running mess of permanent ink.

I put the napkin in my pocket.

I arrive home and knock on the door,

I hear footsteps,

Yours.

I have not forgotten.

Your shuffling feet arrive at the door,

And I look in your eyes.

They say I love you.

They say come inside.

They say forget.

Pain is temporary I think,

Just like the ink,

And the colors on my shirt.

They were right.

Everything is temporary.

But as I glance into your eyes,

And as I watch you move across the

living room to our bedroom

I think otherwise.

Colors may fade,

Pain may disappear,

Happiness may wither.

But our love does not.

True love.

True love does not run when wet,

It does not fade when washed,

the colors shine bright forever.

Time will not make love disappear,

Love lasts from January to December. While happiness may wither,

Love will not.

You and I sit in a room.

Rain beating at the windows,

And we say I love you.

Our words resonate against the walls,

Reflecting off the window,

Bouncing off the bed,

You kiss me,

And write your love on my lips with your

tongue.

The temporary ink runs off the napkin,

But this kiss is permanent ink,

Ink on my lips that spells out, I love you.

Years from now I will remember the

words on my lips “I love you”

I will not have forgotten.

Love is not temporary.

Not with you.

I love you.

It's a three word phrase,

But it can be said many ways,

Many dialects,

Many languages.

It can be said,

Or it can be showed.

It can be what slows you down,

Or what makes you go.

And we wonder,

And guess what it means.

To love.

To be loved.

To be in love.

To me love doesn't sound like l-o-v-e. Love sounds like two voices

In the dark of night,

Whispering over the phone.

It sounds like the rubbing of skin,

As a gentle caress.

Love looks like travelling miles,

By train,

By car,

By foot,

By plane,

Just to close the gap between our kiss.

Love to me is spending hours,

And hours,

Dreaming of making you my missus.

It's not a giant ring,

Or a great wedding.

It is you in a dress

Walking towards me

With that gleam in your eye.

And now,

I hear love in your laugh

and in your voice.

I see it in every freckle,

Every mile.

Love has become our kiss.

The feeling of your touch,

Of our fingers intertwining,

Of my lips closing on yours.

Love is the safety I feel in your arms.

I find myself wanting to get lost in us.

In those deep blue eyes,

I could go swimming for hours.

I pull away from a kiss feeling drunk

And unstable.

But also euphoric.

As if I have found peace.

As if I have found love.

And I have.

I know it is every time I hear your laugh.

I can tell by how I think you look beautiful in anything,

Baggy shirts,

Or knee length tight faded pink shorts.

I see it in the way you dance so carelessly.

And I see it in the stars,

They remind me of you.

So small.

But yet, they light up the darkest nights.

Like how you lit me up.

So love.

No matter how you say it.

It‘s not a three word phrase,

It's something I hear in your song.

It's something I feel in your touch.

Something I taste in your kiss. Something I see in your eyes.

It's not a three word phrase.

It's a two letter word.

Us.

You usually feel it before you see it,

It begins as a light breeze wafting through the otherwise still air,

And sometimes a light rumble in the floor.

If you put your hand on the concrete,

You can feel it,

The train coursing its energy through the floor into your body,

You can feel the vibration of the city through the palm of your hand.

But you do not do this,

Instead, you keep walking and notice the light breeze,

Slowly but surely getting stronger.

Then you see it,

The train lights seemingly speeding up as they come at your stop

And for a second before the train passes

As you feel the wind blowing past you,

You wanna step out,

In front of the train.

You wonder

What it would feel like to go from zero to sixty instantaneously,

Whether you would slide beneath the train

Or stick like a bug on a windshield.

You wonder if it would hurt as much as the last time you were in the subway,

The last time you were in this melting pot of drugs,

Work,

And sex,

And were caught off guard.

Then as the moment passes

You reach your hand out to touch the side of the train,

Feeling the cold metal speeding across your skin.

You feel every nut and bolt as it runs underneath your fingertips,

Every divet in the train,

Every imperfection.

The door opens and you step in,

One foot in front of the other.

Careful not to make eye contact,

You stare at your beige skirt,

“Neutral colors are safe,”

You tell yourself every morning,

“You will not stand out,”

“You will blend in,”

Reaching into your purse you feel the cold metal of the knife you’ve been

holding in your bag since the last time you took the subway,

Since the last time you were caught off guard.

Running your finger along the blade,

You feel it bite into your skin

You do not flinch,

You simply close the blade.

Getting off the subway you are a bit too carefree,

A little too happy,

Your smile too wide,

And you give someone the wrong idea.

Again,

you are caught off guard.

You feel it before you see it,

It begins as a hand grabbing your arm,

Ringing the blood out of it.

As he puts his hand on your face,

You can feel it,

The horrible fear coursing through your veins.

The helplessness.

You feel for your bag,

It is right beneath your arm

But you do not reach for the knife,

You do not stop him.

Instead, you focus on his breathing.

The light breeze on your face,

Slowly but surely getting stronger.

“It will be over soon,”

You tell yourself,

“He will get bored,”

“He will grow tired of me,”

He does.

And you realize your torn beige skirt was not safe.

Neutral colors are not safe.

You lie there and reach for your knife.

You run your finger across the blade as it bites into your fragile skin.

You revel in the pain,

You welcome it.

Today, you wanna step out.

As you feel the light breeze blowing against your face,

you wonder if it would hurt as much as the last time you were in the subway,

the last time you were caught off guard.

So you put one foot in front of the other.

It brushes you,

Just slightly ruffling your beige skirt.

It brushes you just before you feel it,

A hand grabbing you arm,

Ringing the blood out of it.

It begins again.

You and I sit around a board with wood pieces in front of us,

And more wood pieces scattered out that,

When put together,

Form sounds,

That form syllables,

That form words.

I look up at your glowing brown eyes and smile,

Laying out my tiles.

C-H-U-T-Z-P-A-H, I proudly proclaim

And then proudly claim the 77 points.

Your brow furrows with concentration

And I swear I see a bead of sweat trickle its way down your forehead.

Your eyes light up and you glisten as you lay them out,

The perfect word,

Using my U you spell Q-U-I-X-O-T-I-C,

And smile.

Your laugh then echoes out,

One of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.

As the game goes on I look down at my wood pieces,

The ones that have letters,

That form syllables

That form words.

And I notice a letter I have not used,

The ever so useless,

Letter Q.

Q words shoot through my mind,

Quiet, quizzical, quotient, qualm

As I hold the ten point piece diligently in my palm,

I look at the board and see no U’s,

Nothing to pair with my useless Q.

It is quite quizzical to question,

The use of the letter Q,

As it rarely ever appears without it’s partner,

U.

So I put it back and leave it on the stand,

The game comes to a close

And I put it back in the bag with all the other wood pieces,

That have letters,

That form syllables,

That form words.

We lay in bed that night and I hold your hand,

We look at the stars through the skylight,

I smile and look into your deep brown eyes,

Your face illuminated by the moonlight.

To fill the space between us,

I begin with letters,

That form syllables,

That form words,

And say a few words to you,

“Life is a game of scrabble,

And if I’m the letter Q,

The only thing left that I need,

Is U.”