how to feel nostalgic

think about your old house
or your old car
or your old friends
or your old (boy)friends

& smile
or even laugh
but probably cry

remind yourself of the heartache
or the long drives
or the long laughs

& laugh again
because it never gets old

read how you used to feel
& look at old photos
& wish for times passed

but move on
keep moving
because

an idle mind is a lonely one.

I fear fear

I fear heartbreak & breaking hearts

I fear time & feeling & running out

I fear judgments & judging

I fear birds & bees & most bugs

I fear losing the ones I love in more than a million ways
--but mostly one way for each of them

I fear the expected but mostly the unexpected

I fear getting lost

or kidnapped

or broken

I fear the forecast for the rest of her life

I fear the tears and shards of glass in my heart

I fear failure.
always failure.

but who doesn't?

I'm not trying to say I'm unique
in any of this

They say to overcome your fears
but it's the most I can do to ignore them.

ignore them

ignore them

for now that's all i know how to do

and that scares me

               

& my heart broke

My light bulb is flickering,

And I watched the lines in my grandfather's face grow hard through heartbreak,

& my heart broke. 

And the dew on their grass is just irrigation water,

And I saw a riding mower running over the gravestones of somebody's loved ones,

& my heart broke. 

And I watched him replace me,

And I watched how happy they are,

& my heart broke. 

I'm watching my grandmother's mind fall away,

And I hold her fragile hands close,

But somehow never close enough,

& my heart breaks. 

And I hang my face out the window,

And I scream at the top of my lungs,

And scream through the tears

& my heart breaks way too often to be average,

But these things are how I feel alive. 

Tragically true. 

sun & moon

i was the sun

& he was the moon.

i always did get the attention

even when he deserved more

i did my thing

& he reflected.

eventually he stopped pointing out the moon rise

& started missing the sunsets,



i guess our timing was just so.






but no,

of course i dont miss you.

im fine.

pretending not to mind

what am i supposed to write about bricks?

I was proud of myself when I figured out how to draw bricks. stacked in their usual order. predictable.

they were always there watching. stacked uniformly. doing their job and pretending not to mind when they were the first brick to be laid.

carrying the weight of your school

your home

your heart

but humans dont seem to be that way.

distant fathers miss soccer games

& simply being okay

when nothing is okay

goes unnoticed

predictable.

offense burns through four downs

& defense lets a touchdown slip past

& I hit a brick wall

& the final score is all anyone talks about in the end.

what's your GPA? ACT? College?

how many boys have you kissed?

how many boys haven't you kissed?

& in the end I'm the first brick to be laid:
forgotten

& pretending not to mind

but man, do i mind.

cardiophobia

the horizon was on fire that night

& so was her heart

raindrops and burning hearts

like long car rides filled with either heartbreaking conversation
or blissful infinity.

no in between.

like raindrops on a window pane that can never get the timing right to be just one
like lazy mornings after a restless sleep
like silent wishes you don't want to believe
like watching paint dry but the air in your lungs is all too humid to ever see it happen

these things are how you make me feel.

like playlists that are never played & records whose dust goes unappreciated.
like nostalgia & regret & happiness that somehow makes your heart sadden.
like acoustic guitars in the snow & unfinished lyrics that throw you for a loop.

THESE THINGS ARE HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL.

like stolen moments that end in goodbyes a little too chilly for the way your heart is burning.

stolen moments & burning hearts

like the kind of jealousy that reaches down and freezes your stomach, scrambles your heart like the breakfast he never made you.

but don't get too cynical, darling, because

supper was always more romantic

at midnight.