Writing

When I hear the words cross-country

I hear tired laughter

The kind when you know you didn’t get enough sleep.

Bus rides early in the morning, sliding under the seats,

I call her my best friend, but she's closer to a sister to me.

Her smile reminds me of warm, rainy days and lightning,

Lighting up the sky for a second, followed by the laughter of the clouds.

i thought it was love because i got that funny feeling below my ribcage

each time i saw you i felt what the characters in my books felt

stomach flipping, heart beating too fast, head light

She told me the song on the radio had made her cry 

She calls it stupid how a few chords 

could trigger such feelings. 

I see her as a bluejay, 

i found a binder full of photos from my preschool years,

lined paper covered in neat cursive

signed by my teachers, women who i remember the names of

and not much else. their voices were warm and the house

i still hold you in my heart, 

where it's safe, 

and you have your place, 

but every once and a while, 

i feel you come out,