I’m not sure why things happened the way they did, I’m not sure why we met on the first of may and I’m not sure why i ended up in mo. sometimes i still think about it all. but i do not regret it, that year taught me more about life, love, and most importantly myself than i ever thought it would. i became a better version of myself because of it. you taught me what i want in someone, and what i should expect from someone, i hope my future wife has some of the qualities i loved about you. you taught me to look for someone who will cover my room in sticky notes, or buy a huge bear just bc I’m sad, you taught me to look for someone who will hold me as i sob uncontrollably on the bathroom floor, and not look at me any differently because of it. in a way because of you, i learned what it was like to love someone with a mental illness, i watched you love me through it, and in a way it taught me how to love myself through it. i didn’t know it at the time, but i do now. some days i was so sad i didn’t even have the energy to wash my own hair and so you did it for me, i would shake and so you would hold me every night. when i thought i couldn’t ever smile again you sang to me in the car. i am not sure why things ever happened the way that they did, but a tiny piece of me is happy that they did. i have washed my hair without the help of your fingertips 74 times, i have slept tangled in blankets rather than in you for 63 nights, i have driven countless miles with an empty passenger seat, i have listened to hundreds of songs without your voice belting the lyrics. i never wanted things to end the way they did. I’m not sure why things happened the way they did, but I am thankful that they did. Hurting me is the best thing you ever did for me, partially because of you i have learned to love myself, you hurting me forced me to learn to love me without the help from you. I am a stronger me than we ever were an us.

I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.

The words ‘making love’ written just like that they are beautiful as we have made them to be but sometimes I wonder how beautiful they would be if we took them as what they meant before we soaked them in sex how would one make love would it be something built or grown or would it simply begin to solidify or all three between person and person and between person and everything else bigger and warmer and stronger the longer it was tended to simple existing just something people do love made

There’s something about a pair of lips sliding down your neck that gets to me. Maybe it’s because it leaves us wanting more. Always wanting more and never knowing what to do with the large amounts of time that we’ve exposed ourselves to. Always wanting more and never knowing what to do with the legs that kick start more than adrenaline pumps fueling more flames that you never planned to hold. There’s something about placing your hands on someone’s legs while you’re driving that gets to us. Doesn’t it? There’s something about waking up to someone. There’s always that and you can’t get enough of your crush being the one you could hold. I’ve seen lips lace themselves with midnight serenades and I’ve seen lips kiss alcohol more times than we could hold the liquor after long nights of parties that never suited your personality. I’ve seen a body as pure as gold and I know the cliché lines are true, but god, this one time; at least it wasn’t fool’s gold. There’s something about kissing on hip bones. It’s a sensitive area and there’s something about biting on ears that says the poetry may not be yours. I guess my bad habits have learned to swallow me alive. I guess my bad intentions have learned to crack open the bible. I guess my body isn’t as naked as how hers was. There’s something about somebody that loves you. How their breathing is the only air you’ll ever need. How their saliva is sliding down yours. And it’s never nice if we don’t plan it out, but the unexpected is light and refreshing. There’s something about soft skin and pillows. The butterflies knew where to rest. There’s something about that touch from that special someone, there’s something that we’ll always miss. And it’s not always roses and daisies, but my, my, my, she’ll always be lovely. And even if the memories are all we’ll ever have, I guess my bad memories are laced with it all. I guess I’m flawed but when we let go of the bras and the jeans, I guess undressing isn’t always as it seems. I guess love is poison. I guess it is. But can I just be there once more. Just once more.