Dear Whomever...

My friend once told me she liked this guy because of his hands And I found it absurd that anyone would develop feelings over one feature, and not care about the rest It wasn’t until you used your hands to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer, and my insides exploded and my head buzzed with bliss. And the first night you slept over, you fell asleep with your hand laid over my stomach and your fingers felt like a fire that I didn’t mind burning my skin. The first time we got drunk, was the first time you played with my hair, and my god I was hooked, I’d drink forever if it meant you’d never stop. And in public you’d hold my hand, and rub your thumb in little circles that left me wanting you more, no matter what you would never let me go, I was glued to you, and I honestly didn’t mind When we talked about breaking up, you saw my lips quiver with fear, and you brushed over my lips with your fingers before pulling me into your lap and you kissed me like never before. With your hands on my hips pulling me so close to you, leaving no space in between us. It was then I realized I never wanted you to go Its now that, I finally understand why hands were the only feature that mattered

nobody tells you how sharp love is, how it feels like a chord snapping and curling up on the e-string of a violin, how it means walking on the eggshells you just used to make your favourite dessert, and waking up gasping for air every morning with that pain underneath your rib cage thinking, this is it, this is the end nobody tells you how hard love is, all cracking bones and pounding skulls and espresso shots and crooked fingernails and knocking on each other’s walls with bloodied fists, trying to break them down, but really asking gently let me in, let me in, let me in, i would belong here if you let me, let me in nobody tells you how tough love is, like sandpaper scrubbed across the back of your eyelids as you struggle to stay up just to keep talking to them, like sore muscles and stiff jaws from having to restrain yourself from grabbing them by the shoulders and shaking them while you scream, can’t you see i would do anything for you, can’t you see i don’t want to live without you nobody tells you how bright love is, like staring into the sun even though you risk going blind and your eyes are watering and burning but you can’t stop because it makes art underneath your eyelids, like your screen turned up all the way in the middle of the night, like the hot blue burst of a flame or a firework as you realize, maybe this is for real this time, maybe this is the best day of my life nobody tells you how love is, because it feels like cool hardwood floors on the soles of your feet on a hot summer morning and it feels like morning breath that actually smells good and it feels like turning on the radio to your favourite part in the only okay song that plays seven times a day, and it feels like throwing out all your papers on the last day of school and it feels like relief, relief, relief but nobody told me how love was, all go, go, go and don’t look behind you, and pretend your past was never your past because i saw people as pools too blistering hot to dip your toes into, i saw people as palms constantly reaching to lay themselves on you, and i woke up alone and the pillow next to me had forgotten the imprint autograph of your head and i touched my burning lips and i thought, this is it, this is the end

you’re going to fall in love with a girl with hair a little longer than mine, another writer-type with all sorts of ideas about things but perhaps a little less aggressive about them, you’re going to kiss her in the ways i taught you and you’re going to figure out some new ways too and when the two of you have sex, she will be just a little bit better at it than i ever have been you’re going to fall in love with a girl that smells good enough you bury your face in the curve of her neck and her tummy will never growl like mine always did. she’ll be deep and mysterious but she won’t come with the heavy past sitting on her shoulders. she won’t ever keep you awake with worry. she’ll always text you back and never bite too hard and never act in a way she can’t explain later. she will not cry when she gets drunk, she’ll just fall asleep beside you. you’ll fight with her sometimes because all couples fight but it won’t be with the teeth and claws that we had, it will be almost gentle, it will be over before it really gets going you’re going to love her until you’re no longer really sure if what we had was all that special. you’ll start badmouthing me to all your friends. you’ll forget about me in most moments and eventually you won’t even be able to tell someone what our first date was or our first kiss or even if you fucked me the last time that we spoke. i’ll just be gone to you, just a memory of a memory, a girl with dark eyes, a half-capable poet, some word on your tongue you’re no longer sure of but you remember that you used to know it. i will no longer be important.

I want to be everyone’s bandaid when I cannot even cover my own wounds.

Take care of yourself and by that I mean I’ve watched you run 8 miles straight and eat 4 strawberries for breakfast and half a slice of toast for lunch (with a teaspoon of jam) and pride yourself for being healthy Take care of yourself and by that I mean I’ve watched you use the phrase “nothing is impossible” as a weapon against yourself, a driving force to attain the unattainable Take care of yourself and by that I mean you got that internship you wanted and the straight A’s you desired and I know you want a round of applause but sadly I can’t join in I watched you pop pill after pill and never smile and wear yourself sick just to achieve your goal and denied it when I asked why the little space under your eyes were becoming black holes Take care of yourself AND BY THIS I MEAN I sat and watched as you screamed in my face and got defensive when I said this when I said “take care of yourself” Because whatever chord those four words hit, It hurt too much to bear And you’d much rather be comfortable with being uncomfortable and show everyone how wrong you think they are Than admitting this all to yourself And giving yourself a break I hope you take care of yourself Because you’ve turned yourself into a robot Forced to oblige by numbers set by calories and pounds and inches and grade point averages and amounts of achievements and successes and wins But can’t remember the last time you slept in Or treated yourself to the warmth of those chocolate chip cookies made fresh and by hand Or wrote an entry in your journal Or had a deep soulful laugh Or didn’t turn down a night out with the friends you had before they got tired of trying to reason with an empty being Or even considered getting help (because you are human yet strive to be spotless like an unboxed doll) but please because I can’t force you, only hope for you take care of yourself

At 2:21 in the morning, it’s hard to see what keeps you going. You’re stuck in that strange place where it’s sort of nice to know you’ll always have a cold spot in the bed when both sides of the pillow get warm, but that’s just a sharp-nailed fact scraping itself down the realization that you’re still going to bed by yourself. You are comfortable but lonely as hell. You’re tired but not sure quite of what. So you roll over and close your eyes and wonder if maybe nights are darker for the people who are sleeping alone.

the problem is I fall in love with people easily. and I don’t want the complicated things like dates and kissing and sex. I just want to extend an arm.

fuck I miss you and I want you so bad and I know I’m not suppose to be texting you this stuff but I just can’t help it I can’t stop thinking about meeting you for the first time and the way your lips tasted and I can still fucking feel your hands rubbing down my body and I know it’s been four months since I slept with you but I still wake up every morning thinking I’m going to be your arms again

You don’t measure love in time. You measure love in transformation. Sometimes the longest connections yield very little growth, while the briefest of encounters change everything. The heart doesn’t wear a watch - it’s timeless. It doesn’t care how long you know someone. It doesn’t care if you had a 40 year anniversary if there is no juice in the connection. What the heart cares about is resonance. Resonance that opens it, resonance that enlivens it, resonance that calls it home. And when it finds it, the transformation begins…