I believe that expressing your emotions, your feelings, through the written word can not only benefit yourself, but also those around you. There is a reason that people lose themselves in pieces of literature. There is a reason that a book can consume someone, that a poem can cause insomnia, that a short story captivates the mind, and that a haiku can cause one’s heart to flutter. Tears are smudged between the lines, bliss incorporated into each letter, and thought poured into every word.

january. 
secret glances, 
stolen touches; 
“we should lay low,” he whispered, 
lips pressed to my ear, 
fingertips grazing my skin. 

february. 
lingering eyes, 
lingering fingertips; 
lingering smiles, 
lingering eclipse. 
he put a finger to my lips
in hope to keep them zipped.

march. 
silence. 
his eyes looked over me all together. 
absence. 
he recruited an ally 
(what do you two whisper when my back is turned?)
i couldn’t quite reach the knives they threw. 
(i applaud your aim.)

april. 
now it’s three to one - 
only i’ve burned my white flag.

may. 
i lay low, 
but my back is still bleeding
and my eyes still lingering. 
i count my reasons -
one, two, and three -
for sleepless nights and 
broken dreams.

june. 
three came back, 
without a reason or a rhyme, 
without an apology. 
three tried to meld her way back
into my life
with memories of then 
and promises of when. 
i didn’t trust her.

i go to the movies with a beautiful boy
and he reminds me of how love
is supposed to feel.

july. 
three melded her way back into my life
with pretty memories and prettier promises. 
i didn’t trust her.

august. 
i live with sand between my toes 
and salt ingrained into my curls. 
one doesn’t wish me happy birthday - 
i pretend not to notice. 
three apologizes and i unfold before her.

september. 
i try to hide my shaking hands
by screaming lyrics into oblivion 
but nothing can hide the
lingering eyes or secret glances 
i continued to steal
whenever one was around.

october. 
i became a princess. 
when one realized i was no longer a damsel
he vied for my attention again. 
my attention averted elsewhere, 
somewhere taller, 
but he only looked over me 
(or to the right, where three hung at my side).

november. 
i fall apart silently. 
with bags concealed by makeup, 
with bandages peppering my arms, hands, and legs, 
with skipped meals and sickening nausea. 
bedridden with pneumonia, 
i continued to push myself past 
my breaking point. 
i wanted to drown.

december. 
i stop checking one’s zodiac sign. 
though he waves in the hall, 
though his gaze lingers, 
i look over him all together.

my senses are flooded, 
confusion has never been so enticing. 
between wisps of red hair, 
a sparkle behind a pair of lens, 
and giggles bursting through stained lips, 
content has been defined.

I think I loved you 
The day I met you
Even though your tee shirt 
Smelled vaguely of cannabis
And your breath of alcohol 
And you slammed doors 
Hoping I’d jump out of my shoes. 

I didn’t know then 
That you would spend the 
Rest of our time together
Unintentionally opening doors 
That I never knew existed, 
Scaring me much further 
Than the boots that
Adorned my feet. 

I knew I loved you
The day I nearly tripped
Over a loose rock that
Was supposed to be laid in the 
Cobblestone around a fountain
In a park, but instead
Of letting me fall 
Your arms wrapped 
Around my waist
And I inhaled
Your scent. 

Your tee shirt still
Smelled vaguely of cannabis
But by then it was infused
With my perfume
And while I still tasted 
The alcohol when we kissed, 
I found it was a substance
That I could see myself
Getting addicted to.

I still love you
even though I try
To convince myself that I don’t,
Because I ran away
When I got too scared, 
But every song on the radio
Sounds like your heartbeat
And every time I 
Slip on my boots my 
Heart still skips a beat. 

You always told me
That addictive substances
Were no good for me
And maybe it was the drugs 
On your tee shirt
Or the vodka 
On your tongue
But I don’t want to 
Let you go, even though
I’m the one who 
Left.

I think I’ll always love you, 
A part of me anyway, 
The part that regrets never
Saying goodbye but is too
Afraid to apologize, 
The part that keeps
Your rolling stones tee shirt
In the back of her closet
But never wears it because
It could never fill the void
Your arms often had. 

The smell of cannabis
Has long since passed
Due to multiple loads of laundry
And I no longer
Have access to your
Alcohol infused lips,
And maybe that’s
A good thing because
I’ve always been told that
I have an addictive personality,
And maybe the
Intensity of our love
Proved that theory true,
But I’d never be so stupid
To think that addictive substances
Could substitute for you.