Thank you to The Children's Home of Reading for the wonderful cards! We're glad to hear you enjoyed celebrating National Poetry Month.

I keep replaying the last time we were together in my head You were definitely the one to reach for my hand I can still feel your dry fingers between mine You are the one who leaned in for the kiss Our last one, even though I don't know it Did you? Had you already decided then that you were going to stop answering my messages Cancel any plans we made That fade away shit doesn't work if you do it in the middle of things You can't go from 'Good morning beautiful' texts To un friending me on Facebook In the same goddamn day. How can you say you don't want me When the pattern of your sheets Are still tattooed to my back?

We received over 1,500 letters from across the country, and around the world, in response to Dear Poet, our National Poetry Month education project that invited young people to respond to poems written and read by some of the award-winning poets who serve on our Board of Chancellors. Take a look at what these young people were most curious about, and how our Chancellors responded! http://bit.ly/1BebAbd

Let me tell you a story One where the princess saves the day But the prince is not emasculated But not at the expense of the princess receiving her fair dues But not negating the ways the prince helped But not making it seem that the princess couldn't have done it on her own While not making it seem as though she was too proud to ask for help But also not make her so weak as to need help some times. While also showing that needing help is not weak. All while keeping in mind that the prince would have helped more if the princess had let him But to be fair she would have let him if her weren't such an over bearing control freak! But the prince wouldn't be controlling if she would just do it right the first time! She does it just fucking fine by her self, thanks! Ha! On second thought, let's just watch TV

When you trace the constellation of freckles on my upper thigh I think that I might actually die, That I will be the first fully formed adult woman To expire from being so turned on By a precursor to fore play That her brain exploded When you lift the hair of of my neck To create an uninterrupted path For your tongue to follow All the way to my right clavicle Which is, weirdly enough, the most sensitive spot On my entire body When you make that noise Somewhere between a laugh and a sigh The one that sounds a little like a 'thank you' And a little like a 'you're welcome' At the feeling of my mouth Opened wide against your skin When you hold me against your chest Breathing softly into my hair Living in that beautiful place That is not quite asleep or awake Your fingertips becoming cartographers Exploring the geography of my shoulder blades

I keep finding more of you Slivered under my skin Too deep for tweezers So I have to slice myself open In order to heal I keep finding more of you Hiding between my sheets I pull out scented memories And put them in a box I never intend to open I keep finding more of you In my bathroom mirror Dull skin and dry eyes Like a signed note Proving you were here I keep finding more of you Everywhere I look And even in the places I don't Your presence crowds me Until I'm not here anymore

If I lay across your legs I can watch The moon cast shadows around your ribcage. The orange streetlights pretend They are the sun, and we feel warmer with them, And the blue glow from my fish tank Makes me feel like I am brushing my fingertips Across the lips of a being that is more than I am. But I guess you are that, aren’t you?