only writing bullshit poetry so that someday someone can gut the insides of your books out to show someone else how much they love them.
i have found the girl of my dreams and she yells at the moon every night.
now instead of biting my tongue, my jaw just breaks.
i have found the boy of my dreams but he is too whole, it makes me throw up.
there are too many umbrella heads around here, it doesn’t make much sense and a woman ran by wearing socks and crocs, reminding me of the boy who only wears green crocs and torn up swim shorts, producing puddles in his feet.
he told me it doesn’t matter, we all live under the ocean.
i have found the person of my dreams yet they still have not seen me.
i have found where i belong, it is in between soft hands and bruised knees, it is inside a dimly lit room with bright laughter coming from tattered hearts, it is in the gentle sway of love, it is in the realization that i belong with the ones who also felt like they never had a belonging.
a plate with 11 sides to fit everyone’s hands on, a fork so small you can shove it down your throat and pull it right back out,
crying at 7am after being awake for 24 hours and thinking you heard someone yelling from your closet, only to realize you are sitting in your closet, and you are yelling.
i feel my closest sense of belonging in my family as i cut their faces out of old photographs and whisper secrets in their photograph ears.