and maybe this matters or something

for flora

and i’m not saying i’m there yet. i’m just saying… you wrote me a poem. you wrote me a goddamn poem, saying my poetry meant something to you. saying all the empty messages and desperate mixed signals actually got through. and honestly, even now, it’s hard to even believe that’s true. even though it is true. even though this is true. and this is mine. and this is real. and i’m not saying that this is it. i’m not saying that suddenly, with something you’ve written, my entire world is fixed. i’m just saying maybe someone cares or something. maybe i’m worth something. maybe there’s hope for me. and maybe someone would listen, if i grabbed a megaphone, and raised my voice a little louder, and a little louder, and maybe if i screamed up at the sky, people wouldn’t just call it mindless chatter. and maybe… maybe i have a chance. maybe we have a chance. and maybe… maybe we’re not alone in this. and maybe that means something. and maybe what i’m doing… what we’re doing… maybe, maybe, maybe matters. or something.


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a night spent looking at the stars

so it’s almost pitch dark, right? and it’s only 9p.m. but apparently by some people’s standards that actually qualifies as late at night. and the city lights flicker and dance in the starlight. and i don’t even know where we are. and i don’t know what’s out there, but i’m not sure i care. because right now, beside you, everything feels beautiful. and maybe that’s enough. to try my best to be your friend. and feel like a book character. and roll down the hill in your grandparents’ backyard together. and not know how to stop. and not want to stop. and never want to stop. because maybe this is what it feels like to be happy, and alive, and weightless, for the first time. maybe this is the metal i will mould into a sword as darkness falls. and as my heart pounds. and maybe this time, we’ll be the army against all the painful memories pouncing on these broken bodies. and maybe i can’t keep you safe from the world, but i can listen. and care. and i can write you happy poetry, just to let you know how much you mean to me. and for what it’s worth, in this moment, i am more than my broken pieces. i am caffeine and stardust. and i am someone who matters to you. someone who is wanted by you. and someone who finally realizes that it can be completely platonic and still mean the world to you. and i am someone who tries. and i am someone who is here. and maybe that’s enough. to be this person who a year ago, i would never have thought could have existed. and to feel like a miracle.


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