Writing

the world was gray and cold when i rolled out of bed,

the first frost of the season just barely

kissing the ground. i tied the morning 

into shoelace knots and hugged forgiveness to my chest.

"Why is your foot there"

"I have long legs"

Every exchange

Every feisty back-and-forth it's just

Me

Connecting the only way I know how

Simultaneously protecting myself

And bringing you in

Is this love?

This riding every high

And crashing burning like a sugar rush gone wrong

It's so weird

So elated

And then so depressed

I soak my pillow with tears and giggles

In 12 days it will be November 14th

I have no reason to care about November 14th

and I have every reason to write a poem about it.

Maybe by November 14th, I won't drive 70 miles an hour

past the gun shop on Route 2

Hold my hand and love

Me more then I ever could

And please don't let go

Let me tell you a story

Of a girl who loved stories

A girl who waited for

Her story to start

A girl who wished on dandelions

For true love