My Anna pt 2 (Poem)

 There was no red string that tied us together
In our past life, we did not know each other
There was no secret mark on our skin that made us fate 
There are no words written on my wrist telling me who you are
There are no past-life scars that bring us together 
There are no freckles pressed to my forehead where you once kissed
There is no vein of my heart connected to yours
I chose this! 
We did not happen by accident
I saw you and chose to love you
I chose to get you honey walnut shrimp every time I go to Panda Express
I chose to remember your favorite colors are blue and green 
And not just because we have an inside joke about it
And you can’t go to sleep when you're sick without a cup of peppermint tea 
And one episode of NCIS
I chose to get you strawberry melon revitalize every time we go to Beaten Path
I chose this
I chose to rub icy-hot on your back just so you could be a tad bit more comfortable 
Even though I hate the smell 
I chose to rub the knots out and smooth out the parts of you
The parts you thought you needed to hide
I listened to you while you talk 
It could be about the workload you carry 
Or the load you forgot to put in the laundry
Or it could be heavier, the load you picked up when you were 12 and never set back down
I chose to love you 
I chose to bleed myself dry for you 
I chose to love until I had no choice but to be loved back
And you do
You chose to love me too

P.S. I know you know, but I love you.

Pieces of You (Poem)

After you left 
I used your coffee mug every day for a week straight
I thought about how washing it made me think you would come back
After you left
My body climbed into bed on your side 
I wondered why it was so cold
After you left
I found a birthday letter you gave me, you sprayed your cologne on it
I slept with it clinging it to my chest 
After you left 
I wore the shirt you gave me
I think I wanted it to be my skin, so I never had to live a day without you
After you left 
I used your freaking toothbrush 
Just so I could remember a fraction of your taste
After you left
I went to the gas station and stocked up on Berry Lemonade Sunkist 
Just because I wanted to be reminded of you. 
I hate Berry Lemonade Sunkist 
After you left 
I looked through our high school yearbook 
Just so I could see your face and your name
I already deleted the pictures, I am sorry
After you left 
I started dotting my “i”s with hearts 
Just so I could imagine it was you writing with love toward me
After you left 
I banned the song “Yellow” by Coldplay in my car
If someone else turned it on, rage would bubble up my throat and I’d want to crash the car
After you left 
I played it for 7 hours straight 
Just sitting in my car… the cops had to send me home
After you left 
I was a shattered mirror
I didn’t know if I could be put back together after falling apart like that

Oranges for Melora (Poem)

Would you split an orange in half just because you know it tastes better when shared? 
I hate oranges
I’m technically allergic
My lips get tingly 
My throat goes a little numb 
It doesn’t hurt
But I am definitely allergic 
But you felt like an orange 
So I peeled back the layers of rind
Just like you peel back the layers of me 
And I split it in half
I take off the pieces of pith that gross you out 
I throw them in the yard so at least it’ll help something grow 
I give you the half that has one more smaller slice of orange
I give you the bigger half
Not because I am allergic
Just because I know you like them
Just like I’d give
Every blue Sour Patch kid
The red, white, and green gummy bears 

I’d refill your frothy barista oat milk without being asked
I’d get your gluten-free Oreos every time we go to Walmart
I’d order your honey flat white just so I was reminded of you
I’d give you cookies when you're sad
And let you throw Frogbert at me when you're mad
I’d share an orange with you
Even though I hate oranges 

P.S. Thank you for being my friend

But they cradled me, yes? (Poem)

I cry a lot
At least every 1-2 business days
Sometimes I plan out my mental breakdowns
I have time after class on Tuesday evenings but Thursdays are all booked
This world is full of a lot of hurt
Hurt that was blessed to me the moment I entered it
Hurt that was cursed to me the moment I said "Hi"
Hurt given to me as a gift, in a red paper bag with glitter
Hurt, I’ve given others as hatred spewed before love ever did
And it’s given me a trauma-filled liver
Kidney stones that make believe that some things will never pass
My central artery veins are all clogged up with things that lead directly to my heart
My head often forgets my rights and lefts and who loves me when I am weak
Even with my body failing and my head forgetting
It never made me angry
It never made me cold
It never turned my heart into a concrete statue, as if it’s something to be admired
Nothing in this world could take away my softness
My plush cheeks hurt from smiling too much
My heart that’s tattooed on my skin
The way that I always try to take photos of people when they are laughing
At least I know I got a real smile, for however short a time
The way I show up to class early but still tired
The way I smile as you walk into the room
A safe place to rest my arms
I am tired of carrying this
Sometimes I want to be cold
Sometimes I want to be angry
I want to shout and scream and have the hurt noticed
And sometimes I do
But my bloody hands will still hold you close
Sometimes a little too tight and sometimes just right
But I promise they hold you
They hold you




P.S. This was inspired by the Twitter post by @kreophagos: "The hands that cradled your face and titled it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?"

Inspired by Jealous (Poem)

When Labrinth said 
“I'm jealous of the rain
That falls upon your skin 
It's closer than my hands have been
I'm jealous of the rain
I'm jealous of the wind
That ripples through your clothes”
I understood in a carnal way 
I too am jealous of the sun
The way it kisses your skin leaving little marks 
That should be me
I am jealous of the water that you bathe in
It turns your fingers into prunes
I hope I affect you that much
I am jealous of the snow
That lands on your eyelashes
It’s closer than my lips have been 
I am jealous of the seat 
That has the absolute privilege 
Of holding you up 
I am jealous of your blanket 
It covers you when no one else will 
It protects you from the things that go bump in the night
I am jealous of your gloves
It holds your hand when I can’t 
Is this all this life amounts to? 
Loving you and then grieving what we should have had? 

Love/Worship (Poem)

The place between your hairline and your eye, to the side of your eyebrow
For all my devotion, it's a place of worship. 
I press my lips to it and pray for us both
My heart goes to confession as I press my lips to yours
My mile of repentance is found in the baptismal blues of your eyes 
My heartbreak vanishes as I pay my tithes 
I redefine my tenets your arms wrap around me 
My beliefs go out the window as your thumb traces my cheekbone 
My alabaster heart cracks when you say my name
My prayer bead-lined soul scatters as you break me
My communion-filled stomach only feels full when I’m next to you 
This cathedral of broken glass mirrors my trauma-filled liver 
My incense-filled lungs rival the cigarette-smoked hotel rooms we stayed in 
I sing hymns of praise that have your name in every line
I kneel before you and sugar pours from your lips, a sweetness of our gentle sin

P.S. I am fully aware that this is heresy. I am also fully aware that when love is askew you can love like worship when it comes to these earthly bodies. Humans were made to praise God and sometimes that praise can go to other desires. Sometimes when my heart goes before my head, I find myself loving like this.

My Type (Poem)

I could fall in love with anyone
Longer than mine dark hair and fair skin
Buzzcut on blonde and even fairer 
As tall at 6’3 
Or as short as me
They could love D&D and video games 
Or fishing and shooting that 10-point buck 
They could be addicted to coffee 
Or just get a hot chocolate 
He could have a king-size bed 
Or sleep on a couch
He could quote to me, VeggieTales Jonah
Or Halloween with Michael Myers
He tells me I am a Solomon 4:7 woman
Or he doesn’t compliment me at all 
My heart doesn’t have a type
Or maybe it does 
My type is the one who loves me like an addiction or not at all 
My type loves to swim and then watch me drown
My type plays music and makes fun of mine 
My type is the one who begs for forgiveness but never repents
My type is the one who walks down the road and stares at me the whole way down
My type loves to forgive and forget until he’s pissed again
My type wears a fake mustache and pretends to be someone else
My type loves me like bullet holes, he shoots until he tears me apart 
My type takes hits off his cigarette so he doesn’t hit me
Instead of diving into books, he dives into another girl's thighs 
Instead of loving me, he loves a woman on a screen 

Tick - Tock (Poem)

My heart is clockwork and you have a few pieces of the broken wheels
My heart is clockwork and so would she, and him, and the other person who left last Tuesday
My heart is clockwork and I'd give you the key and hope you don’t wind me up too tight
My heart is clockwork and I’d give you a little bit of grease and hope you don’t forget when to fix my gears
My heart is clockwork and I wait until the untimely moment when you leave
My heart is clockwork and I hope you don’t give too much grease all of the time in hopes of loving me well 
My heart is clockwork, and just know I think of you at every 3’ and every 11:11 
My heart is clockwork, and I hope you don’t have a fear of mechanics 
My heart is clockwork, I hope when you see my hands they show an effort of loving you 
My heart is clockwork, I hope you aren’t too startled when my gears grind against each other
I hope you don’t jump back in fear when you realize that I am breaking myself by pushing myself too hard
My heart is clockwork, please don’t freak out when you hear my ticking
I promise I am not self-destructing
My heart is clockwork, I hope when you see my barrel you don’t think I’m a gun clogged up waiting to misfire
My heart is clockwork and I hope that my heart isn’t ticking down the seconds until you leave
My heart is clockwork and I fall in love with whoever lands in front of me at 9 AM
My heart is clockwork, and I hope you don’t have a fear of not knowing how I work
My heart is clockwork, I hope you think my gears and wheels are pretty not just useful 
My heart is clockwork, I hope you have the heart to warm me up when I freeze
My heart is clockwork, when you don’t see my ticking face, please flip me over and change my batteries… don’t throw me out like nothing 
My heart is clockwork, I hope you don’t see my hands and think I can hold everything

My heart is clockwork, my love for you is written on my face

This love is me (Poem)

In another lifetime
In another timeline
In another universe
Why not this one? 
Why couldn’t my love be enough in this one? 
My clawing and gnashing of teeth wasn’t enough in this one
And if that’s the case it will never be enough in any of the others
In another poem, I quote tsunamis and teardrops 
That my love can only come in two forms 
But I will not limit my love
I can’t afford to
Not when this love is so… me
This love is me
A little too much all of the time
A little too strong even when I need to be weak
A little too weak when I need to be strong
This love is me
God, I hope that’s enough
That my heartbreaking when I hear your name is enough
That a part of me will always be searching for you 
That I pray that every step I leave in my wake will lead me to you
This love is me
I hope that’s enough

Not a Love Poem (Poem)

I wish I could be poetic
I wish I could make this life more romantic
But instead, this life is just painful 
Nothing in it good
And I swore this wasn’t gonna be a love poem
It can’t be a love poem
Not when my love is all poured out
Not when my love is all scattered like the beads off the necklace your mother gave you
This can’t be a love poem
Because my heart no longer shivers when I hear your name
This can’t be a love poem
Because my hands are still as cold as the day you left
This can’t be a love poem because I don’t want to love you
I don’t want to carry this weight in my chest
I don’t want to be reminded that I can’t fold my laundry without thinking about you 
I don’t want to love you
But I do
I still imagine your Irish Spring next to my Dove body wash
Your mug still sits upside down in the cupboard, you didn’t take it with you
I was doing the laundry since the first time you left and I found one of your socks
I broke the vase your mother gave you, it shattered as I held it and sobbed 
I don’t know if I’ll ever have enough glue 
I wish I could glue together the pieces of you and me and it work out
This can’t be a love poem because I never once mentioned who you are
This can’t be a love poem because I don’t cry while I write it
This can’t be a love poem
The first love poem I wrote was about you; I guess this one is too 

Mixed Socks

 In another life, I was able to save you, and don't carry this weight inside my chest. In another life, we look at the mix of socks left from the laundry on the bed and smile. 

Is this Grief? (Poem)

I strolled into my 8:00 Monday morning class at 7:30

I looked at the spot where you used to sit 

I wonder if God can see it too 

I wonder if God wants you back like I do

Is this emptiness normal? 

Is missing you enough? 

Or is it a side-effect of every day? 

Do I have to sit here with this heartache in my chest like heartburn? 

The acid rises in my throat, I swallow it back down

I throw my bag onto the floor and sit in the hard plastic seat 

My sunken eyes begged for tears to come but none did

My professor walks in 

How are you, Ally? 

I’m okay Sir, how are you? 

How can I be fine with that? 

That there is an emptiness in my heart where you should take up

That you phased out of my life like the city lights in the car when your 15

You were a satellite, passing over me with a flicker of light

You were out of this world and now you are out of mine too

The chapter books of our lives were intertwined 

But the page you were introduced to is on the floor

I thought if I ripped it out I could bring you back 

I could start over and re-write our story 

So it didn’t have to end so cruelly 

I thought maybe if I ripped it out and carried it close to my chest, 

It would fill up the you-shaped hole

So I’ll take the words you wrote of “I love you” and put it in a silver locket

Put it around my neck and threaten anyone who tries to take it off

I’ll ask the mortician to keep it in my hand as they lower my body into the earth

Cause I want you even there too 

P.S. I don’t know who this was about. I wrote this on a Wednesday afternoon while I sat on my bed. I had a heaviness of longing and grief deep inside my chest. I miss someone that doesn’t have a name. My heart feels an emptiness for someone I do not know. Whoever you are, I hope our paths re-align soon. I miss you. 

Board Games and Boys (Poems)

I play COD with boys who trash-talk both their friends and their mothers

I play Monopoly with boys who like to steal from the bank and treat me like property

I play Tic-Tac-Toe with boys who like to lie and manipulate 

I play Minecraft with boys who build me up and others who tear me down

I play Jenga with boys and hope I don’t fall apart when they pull out my foundations

I play Hopscotch with boys who like to jump from feelings to nothing in one step

I play Ticket to Ride with boys who like to pick and choose what they like (CAN I GET WOOD?) 

I play Duck Duck Goose with boys who never pick me

I play Fortnite with boys who drink shield potions and never let me in

I play Kickball with boys and hope they don’t kick me when I am down for second base

I play Leapfrog with boys who push me down when they are trying to get ahead

I play Truth or Dare with boys and beg them to pick the truth

I play Super Mario Bros with boys who totally do mushrooms

I play Madlibs with boys and hope I say the right thing so I don’t piss them off

I play Rock-Paper-Scissors with boys and hope I come out on top

I play Clue with boys and instead of figuring out who done it, I try and figure out who they did

My whole love journey with men taught me that games aren’t easy on the heart

This journey is nothing like Candyland or Chutes and Ladders 

It is not full of gumdrop stepping stones or lollipop trees

There is no Grandma Nutt to give me a hug at the end

Instead, there are Gloppy’s and Lord Licorices that have sticky hands 

In this game, I die

I play board games with boys and hope my board isn’t ripped 

I hope my cards don’t mix with other games

I hope my head isn’t rolling alongside the dice 

I hope my heart isn’t lost among the pieces