“The difference between you and me
is simple, like breathing.
And sometimes just the difference irritates me.
Like how eating more than 2 M&M’s at a time
makes me stress out:
they must always be in pairs.
Or how I check to make sure my
computer is shut down correctly
with everything closed, nothing left open.
But those differences don’t irritate me
as much as never being completely sure
that my door is locked
or that my window is closed.
So I check it again and again.
You don’t care
about M&M’s in pairs: you tend
to eat 3 or 5 at a time, and I want to tell you
that you just can’t. But I stop myself.
When you shut down your computer
you leave things open because you say
you want to always start up
where you left off.
I know I’m crazy but I check your doors
for you at night and windows too.
And I’m continuously afraid for you.
But the way you smile at me has nothing
wrong in it like too many a’s or p’s.
And when I hear your heartbeat next to mine
I almost forget to count the M&M’s
but then I catch myself and the pairs continue.
Some of the time, you catch me writing down
that all the windows on my computer are closed
and you just tell me that even though
I’d like to always be starting things over
I am your good enough and you’ll never go back
to a before. And I stopped checking my computer
after that because I wanted to be good enough
to deserve a wonderous you.
Most of all though, I’ve found that sometimes
at night I’ll lie down on my bed and think of you
and before I know it it’s 2 am.
And I’ve left my door unlocked on purpose.”
“The problem in entirety was contained
In her understanding of them.
To her, “us” was a concept that couldn’t ever
Even dream to contain her.
And somehow “us” turned into
HIM and her
Which could never be good enough.”
“She asked why I was so wide awake
At 2 am
And I said
That thinking of him made me smile
And smiling wouldn’t ever tire me.”
“Once I met an artist
Whose canvas was the most beautiful thing ever breathed
But he carved into and tried to do away with it.
Even now- in the spaces inbetween
The destruction he called art-
The beauty of the canvas leaked through. And I could count the beauty in his scars.”
“And when she told him she loved him
He only asked how she knew
And her lip trembled ever so gently
And when she breathed out he saw it for the first time
How everything she did was done for him How her life was a poem for him that she didn’t know would ever be heard
And how she loved him anyways.”
“Wherever she walked
Everything somehow had more meaning
And even the stars looked soft
And the ground was beautiful
Just because she had treaded upon it
And maybe it was because she had so much to herself
That she had to give some beauty away
Wherever she went.”
“Somehow it all made sense to me:
What if I promised to tell the truth,
Then what would happen?
Everytime you saw me all you would see would be the love radiating from my skin.
And maybe that was good and beautiful.”
“And you said I wanted to take a picture that would contain all of you in it.
And I said God, that wouldn’t be too hard, what’s holding you back.
And you said That would be like asking the world to climb onto the head of a pin.”
“I used to think that things I’d dream about you
Like will he like the same music as me
Or will the world look a bit different to him
Were not as important as what you saw in me
Or the way I would be changed anew.
Yet I find that everytime you open your eyes
The subtle difference in the way you see
Where things are haphazardly smudged together
And things aren’t defined into colors
Is a something I want to be able to touch
And feel with my hands and eyes and fingers.
And I think that this is a better love story
Than the one when I called you my savior.”
“Where does the love go
When I am done with it?”