to pick out

the weeds sprouting

in your mind

there is nothing

selfish about

tending to

your own garden

it is okay to

take the time

you need

to grow

scene:

it’s a few nights before i release my first book. we are lying in my bed and i am reading it to you. every poem.

and you never once look away from me. you never once act bored or disinterested. you listen to every word, tell me what you think of each piece. sometimes, you stop me, ask me who the poem is about. who they are. who they were.

and i tell you. we’ve only been together for about a month, but i tell you everything.

you are not afraid of anything i say. not afraid, or jealous, or upset.

you say, “that poem was beautiful.”

you say, “it’s an honor to have you write about me.”

you are the only one who’s ever said that to me.

you are the only one to not shy away from what i have to say.

end scene

it’s been over two years

since our first kiss

but i still remember

every moment:

your eyes, before.

my heart, during.

our love, after.

our love, still.

find someone

who breathes fire

into you,

who leaves embers simmering

in your rib cage,

who traces sparks

down your spine.

find someone who matches

your flame with one

just as powerful.

if you asked me to,

i would rip stars out of the sky

and slip them into your pockets.

if you needed it,

i would pull the salt from the ocean.

pour it into a shaker just for you.

i would give you the planets

on a silver platter.

whatever you desire.

just ask.

the moment

you begin to

love yourself

is an act of war

against those who try

to chain you to a scale,

against those who try

to brand you with a label,

against those who try

to tell you it is better

to do the opposite.

call yourself beautiful.

let it be your battle cry.

i look at you

and i do not see

an end.

only us,

beginning

and beginning

again.

—this is forever

i think

if you left me

i wouldn’t feel

a thing.

not because

i wouldn’t care.

but because

you might just take

too much of me

with you.

—without you i am incomplete

do you think time stops for us? do you think it understands the importance of moments and it slows to let us cherish them just a little bit longer? do you think that’s why it felt like an eternity when we touched? i wonder if time saw you in my future and slammed on the brakes. i think maybe this time, time decided to stop at the red light instead of barreling right through like it usually does. maybe time decided, “maybe i want to see this.” maybe time leaned back to enjoy the show.

it’s incredible,

the amount of growing

you can do