#mcmont

in the way that it can not be destroyed

only transformed or transferred

between people and states

moving from person to person

shifting from platonic to romantic

even going in reverse sometimes

you see I once wrapped my arms around love

late in the night and let its breath even out next to me

but love transformed into something I couldn’t recognize

now I no longer wrap my arms around love at night

but I do wave to it in the hallway

sometimes love is better greeted in the form of a handshake

than it is in a hug

I once did the hardest thing you can do to love

to attempt to tell it goodbye

to destroy it

how lucky we are that love sticks around

even when we tell it not to

It transforms

hides in the crevices of someone new and

In my house you can feel it when a door opens in any room it’s as if the house is resettling itself just for you

the subtle shift of a door frame makes the whole room move a gentle reminder that even the smallest of gestures can be grand this is the way a home breathes

On moving day it was quick breaths in out people coming and going doors opening and closing

But on spring days things breathe a little easier the doors never quite shut so the breaths never quite hitch

I am a book with no cover meaning I am a blank slate for your judgements anything you think will be of your own accord I will give you no ammunition of which to destroy me   I am a book with a broken spine but my pages still cling to loose, fraying stitching the only thing that’s ever held them together if you discover one of my pages blowing through the wind you might find that it is mostly illegible and only a fraction of a whole the goal is to keep them wanting more the joke with no punchline is to never give it to them   I am a book with a mediocre story my story is not a classic It is not required reading It won’t help you get an A on that paper but my story is one that I hope you will pick up and never want to put down

When your love marches through A mine field of acceptance Public displays of affection Turn into Public displays of alienation Turns into Please don’t antagonize Please don’t attack Turns into People don’t actively think about what they’re saying Because People don’t actually care about us people die all the time People like us Because PDA is never as simple as Public display of affection It’s Public display of audacity To exist in a body like this To love a body that mirrors it Just a little too much Please don’t assume Previous denunciations apply Who knew that holding my girlfriend’s hand Was a revolutionary act A Public display of assertion That we are not going Anywhere

I was told by a friend of mine that My love life is tragic I told them With the last name Montague I suppose I’m just chasing the destiny I was born to fulfill   You see, some of us were written into stories We never asked to be in Cast in roles we never learned the lines to Slapped into costume and told Go put on a show   All the world’s a stage But I never learned how to act And it seems as though Neither did you   Tell me something A pretty girl like you Did it hurt? As you fell out of love with me Fell disinterested Fell aloof   Tell me Were you wishing that you were my Rosalie from the very beginning?   Because this Romeo loves too hard Or cares too recklessly Did you realize that if we didn’t walk away it would be the death of both of us   Did you know from the beginning That even the lovers in this story Don’t win   You knew it was more fun to have loved and lost But much safer to have never loved at all   Poor Romeo dies in the end So it doesn’t matter if they get hurt along the way, right?   You tried your best But a Rosalie you are not A Juliet you must be And now here we are Crashing and burning as the final curtain falls And know There is nothing beautiful about this tragedy

The Republican in my class brings up guns He says I believe in my second amendment right I’m a military man Mass shootings are a mental health issue Not a gun a issue He says Therapists are for sissies who ought to go cry to their mamas

When the Republican in my class brings up guns A girl says she doesn’t know what Columbine is We look to him As if to ask if he wants to explain the pain his guns have caused

I want to ask him As a military man When people ask you if you killed anyone when you were in Afghanistan Do you tell the truth? Or do you tell them That wasn’t exactly my job Or My squad was in a different place that day Or It’s not always like that, it’s complicated

Do you ignore how the weight of these bodies press into your memory Pulling you back to a place you tell me no one should ever know Do you ignore the price tag your bullet rings up Every time you pull the trigger It must be worth something if you’re so willing to fight for it, right?

When you came back for the first time and held your daughter in your arms You looked at her like she was the answer to all of your problems Did you realize That there is someone somewhere holding a gun Looking at it like it is the answer to all of their problems

As you teach your daughter her numbers and letters Do you teach her to run like she’s playing hide and seek When an armed gunman comes into her school Do you teach her to climb like she does on the monkey bars So that she can get out of her classroom window and to safety Do you teach her that the 2nd amendment is more important than her life?

When the Republican in my class brings up guns I struggle to not roll my eyes so hard as to blind myself I struggle to not ask him if he ever thinks about what if it was his daughter In the classroom when that first bullet rang out I struggle to ask him anything at all So i don’t Because when the Republican in your class is the first one to bring up guns There is nothing you can do To silence it

A nomad knows no home They wander from place to place Searching for something To cling to Something to tell them that this is where they need to be   In this moment I am a nomad   8 years spent in a boring little town in Wisconsin Used to feel like home But too many bodies moved away   My last 48 hours spent there Consisted of mostly crying I saw too many faces I didn’t recognize And too many head stones that I did My hometown feels like a graveyard Where my memories go to die I can’t remember your voice   A nomadic journey To find it again To find some semblance of where I need to be   They say home is where the heart is But here it is Beating inside my chest So why does it feel like a guest in my own body   It’s searching for a place with a sign Of where it needs to be It knows I will never find a life in a place with so many skeletons So I left I can’t find your heartbeat anymore   Set adrift amongst the hopeful and unmarked Seeking answers to questions I have yet to have I am a nomad Searching for something To cling to Something to tell me that this is where I need to be     To be optimistic without being unrealistic is key I hear your voice in my heart and head Guiding me Your soul is a nomad now Maybe in that way we’ll always be together   To be optimistic is to say I will find somewhere To be realistic is to say Maybe I won’t To be a nomad Is to keep looking Even when no place calls my name