Liz.

long poem about my fears—>

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ok carter imma write something 

so stop bugging me to write a story

just kidding

you don’t bug me 

i bug me 

yay story time

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I just want to be different, if nothing else

Different, unique

and kind. 

I want to have a good story when I go,

and have changed lives. 

a little bit, just a little bit.

it pours outside,

water seeping from the sky.

this time last year, life was different

but

the weather was the same. 

this time last year, my heart held onto 

a transitional affection 

thinking that was love. 

funny now, to think i thought that was love.

a feeling that lasted, ebbed and flowed, 

for no more than two seven day’s time.

this time last year, my heart was a cynic

not believing in lasting love.

not believing in other halves. 

not believing in exactly

what i have. 

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the way your skin smells when i lean in—

the way your skin feels beneath my fingertips—

the way your skin tastes when i kiss it—

and the way your lips feel against my lips.

laying in bed sheltered from the cold, 

your glasses off, the day old

you’re so close to my senses.

i’d say anything you were curious to hear,

without any my usual defenses.

i miss you when your eyelids close, 

and i try to get mine to not do the same. 

i miss you when your grip loosens,

your stare hides,

your breath slows. 

i miss you when you’re not around,

more than perhaps you’ll ever know.