tunnels & collar bones

i want to run through every red light to get to you faster
the butterflies caged in my chest break free
when i recognize your silhouette across the dark parking lot
i want to live with my face buried in the space between your collar bones
your smile sets my gut at ease
like the ease you have with kissing the top of my forehead
with a warm, “hey babe”
& i never knew how much i craved
the velvety softness of those two words
until you say it

casually.
like how you casually play off the incredibly thoughtful things you do for me,
like loading the Harry Potter audiobooks to a playlist for me,
or leaving me “thinking of you” videos in the morning.
i want to extend each moment,
each second,
because time apart feels like that game i used to play with my brothers,
holding my breath at the entrance of a tunnel
only allowing myself to exhale once you reach the other side–

only, it’s not a game now.
& i’ve only just caught my breath with you
& don’t want to hold it a second more.
& yet.. i want to let you leave.
i want you to go conquer the world,
and be the person you tell all about it
at the end of the day.

if you didn’t ask me, “how was your circle group meeting?”
i’m quite sure
that all of this
would’ve come tumbling out

in one

breath.

the long game

how long does it take for you to know
that im your person?
how much assessing
evaluating
weighing
& deliberating among friends
before you come to the conclusion
that i’ve arrived at months ago?

it shouldnt matter if you’ll be gone for years
because if this is real, it’ll outlast the distance.
on the other hand;
the years matter if they embody the test.
because if it’s real, when all the pieces fall into place
then you’ll know if my piece is still right beside yours.
with no guarantees
no commitments
just faith.

beauty in beginnings

a seed can’t sprout in infertile ground
regardless of how strong it is.
in order for it to take root
and birth wispy tendrils
the soil had to give.

a whisper of a thought
comes from the smallest seed
but your mind is what allowed it to take hold
to grasp the possibility of that tiny idea
breaking out of its husk
& growing into this lush
thriving
life form.

the drawer

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“its a logistical thing,” he explains.
“it just makes sense for you to have one,” he reasons.
offering a drawer
in a man’s place
is a huge thing.. at least to women. [i think]
so i ask, “but what does this really mean?”
what im really asking is, don’t let my heart & mind wander off to some hopeful cliff to later plummet off of.

“its progress.” he says, as he pulls me in close to kiss my forehead.

orbit

i don’t ascribe to “the right person” theory
but i do believe people can “click.”

it feels so easy
i didnt ever know,
it could be this easy.

to enjoy listening to someone
to want to do anything to take away their stress
to believe, whole heartedly, completely & truly,
that they are amazing.

we’re those people
circling one another in their own orbit
dancing to their own music that no one else can hear

is this sustainable?
do people do this for the rest of their lives?
because i dont ever want to leave this solar system
or have to stop for water when my legs give out

i just want to keep spinning
pirouetting
because this?
is wonderful.

grey

i wish
i could be the kind of girl
just along for the ride.
revel in the silence
& await the big reveal.
& if he bows out
before it ever gets to that point in this romantic comedy?
it’s fine.
rewrite the script
cast a new leading man.
you still have a movie.

i wish i could be that girl.
more than any other self deprecating thoughts i have–
this one ranks the highest.

but because i can’t
because i’ve tried
and failed
again & again
at trying to be her,
can’t we just have a go at me being this one?

& not consider each time i push for answers
to be two steps backward into the abyss of unknowns?
that grey area
where you can’t tell where the horizon is,
the foreground from the background,
or anything in between
is what got me here
in the first place.

this is me
in the middle of a room
with a hundred different paint swatches of grey
laid out around me
holding each one up to the light
to see if it matches the walls.

“is it more of a ‘classic french grey’? … no? how bout an ‘earl grey’? or ‘gauntlet grey’?

i think i got it–

“agreeable grey”

You are the Solution

cliches are born for a reason
they’re cheesy
& lame
& completely out of character

until someone makes you feel the way
you should’ve always felt about another person

they are the reminder
that if what you feel about him
isnt the stuff of love songs on repeat
or throwing pebbles at a girl’s window kind of grand gesture

its not it.
the magic sauce.
the wonderment
& butterflies.

dont settle for your lukewarm feelings

its your heart urging you
to keep lookin’

missing people easily isn’t natural for him
& now that i think about it,
it isn’t for me too.

i’ve had boyfriends go on
long family vacations
even deployments
& they’d have to pull the words out of me
“don’t you miss me yet?” they’d ask.
i’d say it because..
you’re supposed to say it.
but it was usually such a relief to have them away
it told me i could be fine without
which i thought was just because i’m reasonable
independent
just slightly emotionally detached.

but with you,
i’m afraid
i may be at the mercy of my feelings
i’m terrified
i may fall apart when you leave.
& the ache will be a throbbing never ending feeling
that can’t be satiated with texts
& quick layover visits
& facetime
& alexa drop-ins

& you’ll think to yourself,
this girl just feels too much
& assume that this is my M.O when people leave me,

but it’s as if my heart just reserved all this,
just for you.

she vs me

No two loves are ever the same
for good reason.

So stop comparing yourself to his one big relationship,
& how he pursued her religiously until she was finally won over.
The him then, isn’t the him now..
& the you now, may not be so crazy about him,
had he resumed that role for you.

you have been weighed
you have been measured
& you have been found wanting —
to equate to more.

but the reality is,
you aren’t any less
for having a different sort of love.