Our Love WasBaby Blue Leather JacketAnd SunflowersOur Love Was Second Grade "What Do You Want To Be When

Our love was Baby blue leather jacket  And sunflowers Our love was Second grade "What do you want to be when you grow up" And the "What do you like on your pizza" question Our love was  Lullabies on the piano Heart in timezone tatters Our love was More I miss you Than I love you Our love was Cute animals GIF's  And orange juice Our love was Not knowing of the broken or the healing But just knowing you are helping  Our love was Me trying to be happy Just for you Because you made me want to

The Belgium Boy, The Boyfriend Boy Excerpt from the poem The Ways In Which I have Been Loved

Our love was Tightening a corset while gripping a bedpost Our love was Thrown Kitchen Chairs  Shattered Bathroom Mirror Our love was  Shut eyes Dark hickeys  Our love was Overflowing glass of wine, sticky hands, sticky table Heavy Hotel Curtains Our love was Deep wound, just clotting Counting seconds on a broken clock  Our love was  Forget your day; Forget my name Lips sealed; Mind shut Our love was Wolf Eyes; Dark Night Makeup sex; No fight Our love was No goodbye Just gone

I forget his name, I don’t think I ever knew it Excerpt from the poem The Ways in Which I Have Been Loved

The days have begun to blur together again. Morning to Night. Passes in the blink of an eye. And yet drags on for an eternity.  But for a few moments, when we speak, time seems to take pity. And I exist for a millisecond. For this I am grateful.

The Intangible Things 

He smelt of coffee and cologne, and I did not mind at all.

All The Things I Never Told You

To the eighth grade girl who told me I looked pretty on the day I most needed it. I have not forgotten, you or your smile, as you went skipping back to your friends, and I held my breath. To the eighth grade girl who told me I looked pretty on the day I most needed it, you are beautiful, and I hope someday when you need it the most, someone is there to tell you.

The Intangible Things 

Sickly Sweet

Sweet nothings roll off your tongue and reach for me

They are sticky like honey. 

Like blood. Like glue.  

I can't seem to move. 

Or wash them off of me.

It was saccharine at first. 

Now it is just trapping. 

I find it harder and harder to breathe. 

You cover me in mouse trap glue

And shove poems of unrequited love down my throat.

I still try and be nice. 

Because honey is still honey 

You are still you

But my mother always warned me, to steer clear of boys 

And too many sugary treats.

I turn my head when your breath comes to close

You think the goosebumps are of pleasure but they are a break out rash of fear.

I do not write unrequited love poems anymore

I write of how I love. 

I write of everything they are 

And I let out the words like breath to the wind

I leave them like whispy things. 

Not thick. Or oozing. Or dripping in saturated devotion

Because I still gag on the word beautiful. 

Because know all too well of how suffocating sweet things can be.