Can you believe it?

     This flower is hugging me. 

     She reaches out with rubber petals

     and tickles me with florescent fingers. 

I would've never dreamed

     that a smile so bright

     would ever be aimed at me. 

All of these flowers, full of sunshine and warmth

     brighten up my day. 

I have smashed my fingers in car doors

     and sliced my arms with paper.

Nothing,

     nothing,

          nothing

               will ever hurt worse.

That feeling,

     that awful feeling,

          will haunt me until I can find

               something that cuts deeper,

                    something that hits harder,

                         something that aches longer. 

I miss her every day.

     Did you hear that?

I miss her every where.

     Do you understand that?

I can't catch my breath,

     or see straight,

          or think clear.

Nothing is okay,

     do not lie to me.

Nothing

is 

okay. 

You must go, you must

     run away from home.

This place is not safe for you. 

This world ruled by blue and pink

     has no room for green.

I'm sorry. 

i gut myself

          last sunday,

     sittin' crisscross on

          the washroom counter.

i squeezed spoiled matter

          from my belly,

     'til the entire room was

          the insides of 

               boiled tomatoes.

I hug myself as tight as possible,

     make the ball I'm in smaller & smaller.

But, still

     I crave the touch of another.

          A hug.

          Some fingers.

          A shoulder against mine.

               I just need to know I am not

                    the only one.

I crave physical reassurance,

& I try in vain to get it on my own.

What a fool.

Please don't call me perfect,

     or compliment my size.

Try addressing my heart,

     or telling me I'm wise.

Please refrain from "stunning",

     or the way I've dressed today.

Give me praise for bravery,

     and sticking to my way.

I don't want words for smiles,

     or hands, or gait, or stance.

I'd rather get compliments,

     on how often I tend to dance.

Tell me about my vocabulary,

     not the softness of my voice.

I'd tell you to forget my hair,

     if I really had the choice. 

I don't care for words,

     that address me on the surface.

I want people to notice the things,

     that really give me purpose.

Sure, it's nice to hear, 

     you like how my eyebrows bend.

But honestly, I think what matters,

     is that I never try to pretend. 

I look at you,

     like you are some kind of masterpiece.

          A work of art people can't help but fall into.

Your edges are soft,

     your colors vibrant,

     and I don't want to blink.

But then, out of the corner of my eye,

     (while I'm simply reading,

          of all things)

     I see your face, and

          my ribs crack open.

     Every color, orange, purple, yellow, green --

          bleeds out of me.

Because...

(and I never knew)

     you look at me like that too. 

I used to believe

that love was not real,

     that people never stayed together,

          that eventually they got bored.

But then I met you,

darling,

     and man oh man oh man --

          my heart has not stopped singing.

First, I loved you platonically. 

     You were my best friend, a sparkly one,

          until one day,

          I looked at you

          in a different light, from a different angle

               and suddenly my heart was so loud

               it drowned out all my sense.

You are so orange,

and purple,

and blue,

and infinitely interesting.

It's everything I need.

Do you believe in soul mates?

Because man oh man oh man,

     it has to be you.