oddkward-haiki

it is there in all of the moments when i search for you in the places where you should be. it whispers in the darkness when i stumble past your empty bed, when i turn to call out to you in the empty space, when i can no longer say your name anywhere but in my head. it holds tight to the pictures of you in frames long turned over and memories i can no longer visit. it is loss, and it lingers.

i feel closer to you now that you are several hours and one plane ride away than i ever did with you sitting beside me with your heart in a place i could never hope to visit. i wanted so badly to touch you, to know how it felt to hold your body close to mine, to kiss you deeply in the loneliest hours of the night. i thought constantly of what it must be like to know you, to love you, to hear you say that you love me too. desperately, perpetually, i tried to understand you, tried to become something that you could love. but i never did.

I'm asleep all day, awake all night. Here without you, nothing feels right.

when i get home at midnight, i smell like him. i change my shirt and go to bed.

here is a letter for you, ship in the night. when the weight on your shoulders brings you down to my level i will sit with you in the dark and tell you my secrets if they will make you feel better. if there ever comes a time when my doorstep is a place you want to be, the only place in the world where you will feel safe and loved and other things that carry positive connotations, i will watch the sun set and rise however many times you need to feel like you matter.

i want you in the same way that i want the ache in my chest and the pounding in my head which is to say not at all and here you are with your hair and your eyes and all these things that make you just like every other boy who wouldn't love me in any way that matters but you come around here with your jokes and your smiles and you make me wonder if i have been wrong about all my cliches and lousy poetry what i want to know is how you expect me to believe all of your ridiculous musings and why i know i already do

i stay awake until my thoughts spill like sand in an hour glass, until the memory of you fades into the symbolic fog of the metaphorical novel in my head. because my teachers taught me that cloud like masses of minute water droplets are significant. they taught me that the fog is the embodiment of the ache in my chest. i stay awake until i forget why i woke up to begin with, until my reasons for being and breathing are as relevant as the promises you made in the parking lot of a nevada grocery store. and i like to think that you're out there somewhere, dreaming of my run-on sentences and aching to touch me beneath the stars or the

months and months and i do not know your name. because i do not wish to corrupt the idea of you with my own voice, my mumbled vowels and consonants. you are more than my words can express, more than my scrambled poetry can define, more than my world can handle.

I'm a dinosaur. I will eat you. I thought you should know that up front.

5. you stuck your tongue out at me once. it was blue like your shirt and the sky and the ink of the pen that i used to write down your birthday before i forgot it and didn't care. we were standing in the parking lot without any reason for being anywhere  and, in a few minutes, the wind would pull up my skirt the same way that a blue eyed boy would three months after i decided you weren't coming back. that's not important, but i just wanted you to know i'm probably not who i used to be. 4. my brother left when i was twelve and i was very upset that i had to miss my best friend's birthday party. my mother leaves messages that i

The world is moving too fast for me. I can barely take a breath before everything is gone or changed or missing and I'm emptier than I was yesterday, when I was as empty as I could be. I turn on the porch light as though I'm waiting for someone. And perhaps I am, because not waiting is foreign to me. It takes all my don't-wants to figure out what I do want. I don't want to just see how it goes. I don't want to be convenient. I don't want to be an optional possibility. I want to be a big event.

There are a lot of things I can't tell you. Not because I'm keeping secrets locked behind my teeth or because I'm afraid I'll say something you don't want to hear. This isn't like the last time or the time before. It's simply because I'll never have the exact right words to explain all the ways you make my heart rise and expand and skip a beat. There aren't enough words to describe how quickly the blood rushes through my veins when we kiss and I'm on tiptoes to reach your lips and your hand is cupping my face, brushing your thumb across my cheekbone and I feel completely at home. And they haven't even invented a way to portray how I feel w

I'm terrified and I know there's nothing unique about this, but I'm standing here completely out of touch with the rest of the world, realizing for the first time that we all feel things a little bit differently, which is why this doesn't hurt for you at all. I figure the only logical reason for how you could do this as if it means nothing was if it really did mean nothing at all for you. It's easier to hate you this way. It's easier to forget you without the burn of your kiss against my skin. It's easier to stay mad if I don't have to remember the way that it felt. Most of all, I can forget this as if it's a memory in someone else's lifetime

I can't even pretend things are simple anymore. It's raining again, and with every crash of thunder, I miss you more than I can bear. I know it's not worth saying, because really nothing much is anymore, but it doesn't make it any less true. It's eleven ten on a Friday night, and I'm sitting in the middle of the grass, watching the downpour spill off the roof. My t-shirt is clinging to my ribcage, and my hair is sticking to my face. I can feel the water running down the ridges of my spine, the backs of my hands, clumping in my eyelashes, but still, I don't move. Sometimes, when I can't stand what the world is doing anymore, I allow myself a

I don't miss it anymore. These last few weeks we've learned more about ourselves than we ever hoped to know. We've met the monsters that live under our skin and make our old lives seem distant like memories. Like someone we used to know once upon a time and half forgot. An uncomfortable reminder that the people we've become aren't necessarily the best people we could be. But, darling, we get by. You used to always tell me that talk was cheap. Or worthless, even. You told me just because I was still speaking to you didn't mean I was saying a damn thing worth hearing. I mean after all, if you can't say it in a 160 characters, it's not worth

i shouldn't tell you this. not because it doesn't matter, but because you simply do not exist. it took me a long time to admit this so i will not be easily convinced otherwise. i find i can no longer imagine a world with you in it. i can no longer remember a past that makes sense to me. i have no idea where i've been or where i'm going and all of this just does not even matter to me. i swear, though, i haven't gone crazy. at least not yet. i'm giving myself another few days before reality completely falls away. but don't worry about me. it'll all be okay. i just can't be concerned right now. see, the catalyst to this situation is really ju