this is a poem

for poetry club

this is a poem for angsty poetry. this is a poem for every afternoon spent trying to drown my brain out because i don’t have the energy for my mental illness today. this is a poem for every single fist i’ve slammed against myself because i still don’t understand and the rage is curled up in my chest and something about it just feels like a monster about to pounce to me. this is a poem for pounding butterfly heartbeats and standing at the edge thinking that maybe today is the day i fall. this is a poem for not falling. this is a poem for every time you’ve made me laugh. this is a poem every time we’ve said weird things to each other, only you got it. this a poem for dance parties in an empty math classroom and you tell me all about your stories over angsty music because it’s okay that we have issues. this is a poem for writing until my mind is shaking and for the first time in ages my lungs are empty. this is a poem for being six years old and alone in the world. this is a poem for the time i called you and i was panicking and  in that moment you were the only thing that could look my anxiety straight in the eye and tell it it was lying. this a poem for being scared shitless and still somehow managing to hold a sheet of paper and step up in front of a bunch of human beings and goddamn do this. this is a poem for binge-watching harry potter only it’s not a compulsion and you casually lean into my shoulder and i want to cry because it’s kind of the best feeling in the world to just to be trusted to hold the entire weight of someone else for a while. this is a poem for forests and feathered dragon noises. this is a poem despite all the unbearable days and the times i thought i couldn’t take it and the times the voice in my head told me told me anything i was worth was pointless and this is a poem despite the broken bones no one noticed, despite all the things they called us, despite numbness and confusion, despite the loneliness and the future like a black hole ahead of us, we survived. this is a poem for the fact that we. are. alive.

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just clumps of people. drifting through space and time together. mouths trying to jump across the void between us, trying to breathe in time with each other’s unsteady lungs. eyes: hoping any of this matters. hearts: leaning into each other.

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some good news

something true: the google docs app is feeling functional this week. it even let me access some of my poetry without a wifi connection. sometimes it’ll upload my offline edits without even asking. it rained here today for the first time in ages and so now the radish seedlings aren’t dying. today is pi day so we’re eating apple pie and i remembered to remind you this time and your pie crusts are amazing and i know it won’t last. but right now the sun is blooming in little rapunzel-gold waterfalls scrolling across my cheeks in that perfect section of time between 12 and 2. jet lag is a real thing. you are a real thing. the thing about following your heart is surprisingly good advice and apparently it is also a thing. i was brave enough to try. this book i’ve been waiting for to come through has been finally brought to the library. it’s only five months to the next release. i’ll get to see you tomorrow. i wasn’t afraid when i put up poetry club posters which is a new thing. you’re starting to feel like a mentor to me. the irises are unfolding their glacier-blue perfectly symmetrical petals more and more every day. the daffodils are growing their flowers impatiently waiting to explode. we facetimed today. i deconstructed a key fob. i can at least talk to you instantly even if i’ll never meet your eyes and your face is starting to fade from my mind. it’s not enough, but i guess that’s something.