i am a hand

a gut

a mind

that can no longer contain

the genesis inside of me

there are days

my creativity rings dry as a bone

but when it comes

it comes hard

& will not stop until

i let go

it brings darkness

it prevails light

it tells me i am a writer, sometimes

& a constant devourer of art

it is as much of a necessity

as water or sleep

it is the sweetest lover

& sharpest blade

it is a part of me that will bring madness

if it doesn’t

or

if it ever

leaves.

The only boy that matters is the one that moves mountains for you. The only teachers that matter are the ones that allow you to write in pen. The only tests that matter are the ones given by God. The only pain that matters is the one that leaves you exceedingly stronger. The only smiles that matter are the ones that give you your own. The only car that matters is the one you receive your first kiss in. The only friend that matters is the one who shares their chocolate milk with you. The only job that matters is the one you enjoy waking up for. The only choice that matters is the one that pushes you forward. The only moments that matter are the ones that make your fingertips warm. The only aspect of life that truly matters is that you are intimidatingly happy, from the purest part of your gentle heart.

I hope you're ready for late night White Castle runs, and singing Guns N' Roses songs at the top of our lungs. I hope you're ready for cereal for dinner, and watching Dirty Dancing three times in a row. I hope you're ready to chase each other through the kitchen, our socks sliding on the cold tile floor. I hope you're ready for board games at 2AM, and unplanned naps at 2PM. I hope you're ready for my unhealthy obsession with Elvis Presley, and driving to PetSmart just to play with puppies. I hope you're ready for Harry Potter marathons, and holding my hand while you drive. I hope you're ready for the arguments that end with us crying, and the ones that end with us laughing. I hope you're ready for the midnight "I love you's," and the midnight "scoot the fuck over's." I hope you're ready for my brown eyes, and the honey-glaze that covers them when they see you. I hope you're ready to love me like a song, and to carry me like a soul. I hope you're ready for everything in between the frail walls of my heart, and the vivid scars that reside there. I hope you're ready for my shaking voice apologizing for my mistakes, and my warm, hopeful hands clinging to your chest. I hope you're ready to forgive me, to hold me, to cherish me. I so desperately hope you're ready for our unconditionally holy, intensely passionate, infinitely child-like, crazed love, because my heart beats like a racehorse thinking of the track we're going to run.

It was the way his lips craved my body like the ocean craves the beach, and the way his fingertips gently traced the heat of my skin. It was the way he undressed me with his eyes, a devious, sparkle flashing through them with a child-like grin spreading across his face. It was the way he kissed me from across the room, and the way his hands discovered me like the first time, every time. It was the way I couldn't look away from him, or more so, the way he couldn't look away from me. It was the way his deep kiss lingered between my thighs, and the way his tongue laced with mine made my toes curl. It was the way my hands were magnets to his chest, and the way my teeth marks sank into his shoulders. It was the way his warm breath brushed against my neck, and the heat we trapped in between our bodies. It was the way he moved me. The way he carried me. The way worshiped me even though that was something he said he'd never do. But that's just what it is now... what it was.

      I never told you how fast my heart beat when you looked at me like I was your winning lottery ticket, or how my chest feverishly caved in when you gently ran your fingers through my hair, because telling you that meant breaking all of this down. Breaking down these iron walls I had worked so hard to build. But it didn’t take long for you to realize you had impossibly seeped through a crack or two, and when you did, the most terrifying thing happened… you pressed that contagious smile to my lips and told me I had your heart in the palm of my hand. And I fell for it. Your innocence. Your gentle, slow kisses. Your fingertips softly tracing down the spine of my back. Your ecstasy. Your hands... God, your hands. And your uncontrollably passionate lips pressing against my mouth. Your arguments, your laughs, your midnight "I love you's." I fell for all of it, crashing to the ground, feeling the chronic pain of every single one of my bones breaking for you. And to tell you the truth, I've been walking around for weeks... feeling like I never really got up. So, remember when I told you you weren't like the rest? I was right. You were much, much worse.