Wednesday, April 26, 2017

The Place Fear Grows

I’m afraid of you.

I’m afraid that if I love you, you’ll become a memory.

I’m afraid that you’ll become something that haunts me, and that I’ll become something that haunts you.

I don’t want to be the one that digs into you late at night.

And I don’t think you want to be the one that holds my breath for me, when I least expect it.

The only thing I’m more afraid of, is not loving you when I have the chance to.

Of not finding you every morning. 

And what if all love is an act of bravery?

Could you look at me and say, “I am not afraid”?

Monday, April 10, 2017

The Good Poem For Burning

First, you let them tear you up, until they can’t read the words on what’s left of you.

Whatever you do, don’t let them cry, they’ll just make the ink run.

Then, crumple yourself up and light the match for them.

Then become smoke and ash, and fly far away from here.

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

The Questions That Make You Feel Weak

I want to know if you know who you are.

I want to know if you know you’re pretending to be who you are.

I want to know where you buried your heart and if it was easy.

But asking questions makes me feel weak, and the only way I get to be strong right now, is to not say anything at all.

I want you to give me a reason for all this that makes sense.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

The Seasons After Winter

I think you want to say, “You might fall in love, is that the worst thing that could happen?”

And I want to ask you if you've ever noticed the way Christmas lights reflected in a window at night look like stars exploding.

And I want to ask you if you had a garden growing up.

I want to ask you if you had to listen to one thing forever, what would it be.

And I think I want you to say, “A river. Why are we hiding what’s happening here?”

And I think I want to say, "Falling in love is not the worst thing that could happen."

But I don’t know.

Because when you’ve been waiting for someone else for so long, you can become a stranger even to yourself.