Poetry

you’re perfect.

all of you.

and i don’t need to say more

but i will

because i want to write about every one of you

Deft

Finicky

Supercilious

Pulchritudinous

Cassock

Dianthus

Diffident

Omnipotent

Ebullient

Jaunty

For my friend, who 

sent me a letter in the mail even though 

we see each other every day, just 

so she could gift me a card and 

a lovely little poem; 

I would feel -

relaxed if I were

on an island by myself.

I could forget about

my life

forget about overdue math

and whether I'm behind or not

doing the right thing is always wrong

I pick at my face

on a daily basis.

Rub my fingers over

my acne scars and oily skin,

every unwanted mark

that supposedly makes 

me beautiful.

I try to convince myself

Night loved Day so much, 

she folded back her dark, starlit cloak 

to make more room for Day’s light to bloom 

and spill gold over the World. 

I hate it 

when people say

 it'll be okay,

 and that they understand.

 But they don't. 

They don't understand, 

because they aren't me. 

I've been here before

I know this feeling

the impending sense of

happening.

It's going to happen

it's inevitable

is this a mistake?

I will back off so fast if you tell me you don't want it.

I don't know you

I want to

but not yet.

I know you are more useful to me as a faraway rival

of extraordinary difficulty

than as a friend right now

I also know I won't have a choice next year.

We hold hands and they call us lovebirds,

But they are too colorful and noticeable,

Not nearly strong enough as your grip,

As your hands around my waist,

Keeping me from falling (but it's already too late.)

One day I hope to leave

this world encapsulated by a wall far too high for my eyes

to reach.

Looking up is an exercise

that twists my heart in the process

because when did movements 

for old times' sake

is such a pretty sentiment

like

let's do it

for the love

that used to be here

for the memories that used to be young

let's do it for the time