I once had a best friend.

She was the weirdest girl i’d ever met.

She wore bronzer on the apples of her cheeks,

and smiled with her eyes closed.

We spoke in secrets.

Collected promises in our pockets,

and built memories out of swimming pools and couch cushions.

I loved your mom.

And hated your dad.

But I still went to his house every other weekend,

because you asked me too.

And you never said you were afraid of him,

but you didn’t have to.

You made me brave.

Taught me white knuckles and loose lips.

You made me laugh,

loud and unapologetic.

I made you laugh,

clenched sides, head back.

I don’t know when we grew up,

or when we grew apart.

I don’t know how we said goodbye so fast

or how we just let it go.

But I want you to know that I remember.

I remember how you said you couldn’t live without me,

I remember how I said you wouldn’t have to.

I guess I just want you to know that I’m glad you were wrong.

She tells me she can hear god through the clouds,

That she waits for thunderstorms and prays for sign.

For an amen to fall from the sky, crackle and crash against the ground,

And shake everything but her faith.

And maybe thats why she’s with me.

Because of the lightning that exists beneath my ribs,

Or the thunder that aches in my bones.

Anger rolls off me in waves, but still she swears that this is my path to salvation.

She believes it is Gods will,

But it is her name I hear in the rain.

And I do not mean to tell her,

But this hallelujah falls from my lips faster then my fumbling fingers can catch it;

Crashes to the ground, singes the dirt at my feet, and leaves me shaken.

Metaphorically speaking,

I want you dead.

The same way a phone dies;

to come back fully charged,

and as brand-new as possible

for a fourth generation phone,

in a world full of better off.

Metaphorically speaking,

I want to light your house on fire.

The way you light a jack-o-lantern.

Less about the flames,

and more about the flicker,

and the warmth.

The reassurance that something is in there,

alive and breathing.

Metaphorically speaking,

I want you to fall down a flight of stairs.

Just one flight;

a one-way ticket.

Something to pull the ground out from under your feet.

Something to leave an achy feeling somewhere inside of you,

and the fear of knowing everything that could have gone wrong.

A plane crash with only survivors,

who have learned to never fly again.

My worst nightmare speaks only in 3am;

ghost-stories it’s way into my subconscious,

and makes me uneasy in my own home.

It is the monster living under my bed,

the shadow lurking within my shadow.

The creak from beyond the hallway, when I am home alone.

But even as it creeps,

out of the closet, and onto my bed;

I do not run or scream.

In fact, I do not even blink.

Perhaps nothing is truly scary,

when you’re without a dream.

For what is a nightmare,

to a girl who never sleeps?

I yearn for words spoken lightly,

Heavy with meaning,

Held by hands of change.

I dream of heavy words,

Carried lightly,

on the back of trust and love;

Not misplaced like loose change.

I want to carry my coins in open palms;

Handing out quarters of "Thank you",

and dimes of "I love you".

I want homes without holes,

Bullets, or needles,

and veins untouched by temptation.

I want to be an open book,

with pages worn by years of overuse;

But a spine sewn together so strong,

Falling apart was never an option.

I want happiness to be an expectation, not a rare occasion.

I want love to be written on my pages, but I don't want it to be a word,

Words are temporary; paper thin.

I want it to be a feeling.

I want the word love to be felt on my skin like braille,

Carved deep into who I am.

Sometimes I feel like i’m living past my due date.

I wonder if i’m headed toward greatness,

Or if I should be gone by now.

Maybe i’m a story meant to be told in whispers;

In a steeple somewhere.

I’ve never seen my father in a church,

But I can picture him there.

And i’m not sure which is worse.

Im in the air,

Flying thousands of miles away.

I look out the window and I know that you are down there,

But I don’t have it in me to stay.

But I swear it isn’t about love,

Because, my god, do I love you so;

If love was a deciding factor,

Nothing could ever make me go.

But it isn’t,

And as much as it pains me to say,

I deserve to be happy,

And loving you is only getting in the way.

I was the the Sun.

Stare too bright for eye contact.

Flames dripped from my lips, without remorse of who I burned.

You lit the forests fires that devastated beneath my ribs,

Burnt holes in my lungs, and left me breathless.

And now I am a Star.

One of many.

The hunter

The scorpion

The little bear

The big bear

The twelve zodiacs

I build constellations in your palms,

And watch as galaxies slips through our fingers.

You tell me to never leave you, but even when you can’t see me, I am always here.

I will be your moon.

The rock that guides the tides.

I will pull the waves,

Let you drink from my sea, lick the salt from my veins,

And make love wash pain away with the current.