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inside.

she was a fucking hurricane
some days just a waterfall
two knots from fucking insane
that’s how it goes, after all
____

i will never understand
how you can crawl inside someones soul
in.
three.
short.
weeks.
how is that possible?
_____

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This is not a poem;;

Before you read this, just know that you’re probably going to leave angry. You’re probably going to feel your face flush and rage shoot through your brain. You’re probably going to go “who the fuck are you?” and “what kind of bullshit is this?” and that’s okay. I can live with that. So if you can read this open minded, that’d be great. If not, that’s okay. I get it. Some things are just too heavy and too raw for people to lift up and look inside.

To the parent who forgot their kid in the car today, or maybe it was last week, or maybe it was that time you’ve never told anyone about…I am so sorry that happened to you. I imagine you wild-eyed with panic. Maybe you dropped the groceries. Maybe you got back in your car and your heart dropped to the floor when you realized what you’d done. I hope your kid was okay and just know that someone knows that you love that kid so. damn. much. The thing about forgetting is that we never intend to forget and that’s the thing about forgetting. We can’t control what we forget. If you could, we wouldn’t forget the important things.

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summer

shampoo on a sunburn,
hawaiian shirts, $2.75,
a latte midight coffee,
conquering the world
1062 steps at a time.
through mud, over mountains,
downpours, rainstorms,
salsa dancing on a boardwalk,
piggyback rides for socks,
smiles and giggles,
bad lip synching,
roadtrips to nowhere,
and everywhere.
eggs and bakey,
breakfast in new places,

you’re the clean space
on my muddy shirt.
we’re the story behind
ugly 50 cent ties
mailed for no reason.
fireworks and hotdogs
and onions and honey mustard
and johnny cash
singing about something.
beaches and sand and sunsets
and dogs and snapchats
cheeseburgers and coffee
and secrets and dates
here we are,
at the close of it,
tan lines fading,
memories bright,
it was beautiful,
it was summer.

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lies.

I wish I could tell you how much I miss you. I hold onto this fantasy that you’ll come over late one night and tell me how much you missed me and you love me and let’s work it out. I packed your things, I encouraged you to go, because I couldn’t look at you anymore. It hurt too much. I love you. I love you so much, but you hurt me. I just wanted you to want me. I wanted you to conquer the world with me, but here we are. My soul aches for you. I tell my friends I don’t miss you. I tell my therapist I don’t miss you. I tell everyone I don’t miss you at all, but God kows I do.