Writing

it takes me

my arms daring to surround you in the comfort of a hand sewn quilt

patched together with culture, stories, memories, love

it takes you

taking hold, not running; letting the tears fall down your face

I am scared

Because my best friend is not ok anymore and is moving across the country

Because I don’t know if I will succeed in college and I ignored so many things on my to-do list

I started getting folded-up sheets of blank loose-leaf paper from a girl in my algebra class six years ago. I still remember the first one I got in Junior year.

Being a dreamer is hard, for all of us. All the authors, poets, musicians, and artists.

For those who aren’t any of these let me explain it for you.

The snow was melting

when you talked to me

when they talked to you

when we stood with them

and their thinning perfume

their black backpacks

their straightened hair

their plans of the ride home.

In this whole world,

Snow and sun and metal and yet

You pick me?

Your favorite,

first in the morning and last at night

sometimes I think you’re foolish

the way you’ve placed me among the stars