She Drew a Picture of Him: A Poem


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She drew a picture of him

and his eyes were light

and his smile was wide

and sometimes it felt like he could see her.

She drew a picture of him

and the playful sunlight illuminated his skin

and glanced and glinted around

the dark areas, the folds of his clothes

and ignored, ignored, denied, denied.

She drew a picture of him

that she could hang on her wall,

in her mind, plastering that still image

for safekeeping and for empty evenings

when imagination was all she had.

She drew a picture of him

and was particular about the details

(she knew anything she missed now

would be forgotten come a year)

so she paid too much attention

and she gave too much time

and she became too invested

and she lost herself in the drawing.

She drew a picture of him

and it became more real to her

than he ever was.

Blue Eyes: A Poem


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I can imagine being aligned with him––

my knees touching his,

my elbows laying against his elbows,

our hands and fingers beyond intertwined.

I can imagine finding myself

by losing myself in his blue eyes.

I can imagine the stars all falling into straight, perfect lines

for our brief breath of time

just to satisfy the second, and

I can imagine everything coming together––

with no words, we can discover whole truths.

I can imagine becoming completely parallel with him,

a mirror reflection,

like we are one and the same,

indistinguishable, inseparable.

I can imagine entire worlds exploding into focus

as we lay motionless, creating universes with our heartbeats.

I can imagine us glowing with synchronization

as we pour into each other, a seamless bond

that spreads so the whole world makes sense.

The Epic of a Girl 3: A Poem


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Everything is moving faster

now than ever before.

It used to take weeks to build up

this sort of sentiment,

much less acknowledge it.

There used to be denial,

oppression, forced

and feigned ignorance,

no spare courage left to linger

in his blue eyes or the dance of his black hair,

and now all of that has been

defeated,

within the first day.

It seems I have conquered my own senses

for my own purposes,

as if this isn’t something

to be ashamed of

or embarrassed about;

almost as if

no permission needs to be begged,

and no fight

has to be fought

against my pent-up, squared-off,

sectioned and quarantined heart.

It appears that I can

allow myself

the small pleasure

of noticing the vivacious beauty

of his toothy smile

without feeling the worse for it.

 

The Epic of a Girl: A Poem

The Epic of a Girl 2: A Poem

Enamored: A Poem


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I am in love with the back of his head.

I am in love with his hourglass neck

that tapers off into a balloon of clean, brown hair,

that I want to run my fingers through.

I am in love with the times when he stands up

and his wondrous skull soars into the sky,

like a tower in a short city, pronouncing its own glory.

I am in love with the way his silhouette glows

when something bright flashes against it,

showcasing his beauty in the darkness.

I am in love with this view from behind

being all of him that I need.

Little Things


I want somebody to be in love with me.

I want the joy of waking up each morning and thinking, “Today is going to be a great day, because someone is in love with me.”

I want somebody to be in love with me not because they think that I’m pretty or attractive, but because they think I’m beautiful.

I want to be beautiful in someone else’s eyes, inside and outside, because they love to see me so much that I become the ultimate beauty.

I want someone to listen to my next crazy idea and think it’s not so crazy.

I want somebody to want to wrap his arms around me because he means it.

I want the feeling of being needed, because just one look at me can make his day.

I want him to wake up every morning and be glad to have me.

I want him to be in love with me.

I want him to be you.

Lost, Alone, and Haunted


I’m standing right behind you and no one knows but me,

The hallway is crowded but you’re the only thing I see.

I want to let you know something that you won’t want to hear,

I want to lean in close to you and whisper in your ear.

There are words I’ll never say if life just stays the same,

Words kept under lock and key, with only me to blame.

I wish that you will someday say I’m beautiful and wanted,

No one in this hallway knows I’m lost, alone, and haunted.

Your Girlfriend


I hope that she

sees you every day and

thinks about how lucky she is to have you.

I hope that she

holds herself in high esteem

and gets good grades and

cares about her future.

I hope that she

is dying to hold your hand

and when she finally gets to,

she just about dies anyway because the sensation of

your hand against her hand melts her.

I hope that she

has a good head on her shoulders

and thinks about what you say and

sometimes debates it, that

she doesn’t just soak it all up like

a sponge, like that’s all you

words deserve.

I hope that she is

everything you want and more.

I hope that there’s a little part

of her that loves you

already, even if she

doesn’t know it yet.

filler!

I hope that you

prize her like nothing else

and that you can’t stop thinking about her.

I hope that you

would never do anything that

would make her uncomfortable

because she is worth so

much more than that.

I hope that you

notice the way the sun glows

in her hair or the rain

sparkles, that you point it

out to her and tell her how beautiful it is.

I hope that

you think she’s beautiful.

I hope that every time she smiles

or laughs or

tells you how her day was,

your heart flips in

your chest and nearly

comes out your mouth.

I hope that she does that

to you. Because you deserve the

best kind of girl, whatever

that means to you.

filler!

I know that it does not mean the

dorky girls with dark, curly hair

and fuzzballs for eyebrows and

jeans with flares that

they hate, too;

the girls who have

only had academic conversations with

you and are dying for something

more, but are too shy to be

of any use to themselves.

I hope that you never notice those

types of girls at all,

instead of noticing them

and turning away.

filler!

I hope that you are happy,

not just with her but

in everything you do. And

I hope you know that.