I felt his presence in his absence but I could not feel his essense in his presence and when I realized this, I knew it wasn’t love.

(or maybe it wasn’t him)

At first, it was the music:

the song of your laugh and

the melodic drip of thoughts from my brain

the drumming of my heart wanting a piece of yours

Then the dance:

you lead and I follow naively and

silently convincing myself that our

feet could step at the same speed

And now it's the respect:

despite the wrenching pain of truth

that means your eyes can't alight as mine so often do

the ache feels less to know that you

truly are the person I always will love

Because you're the best of us

And I don't regret any of my misplaced hopes

in a crush

because what I've got is a friend for life

and that's all the love I should ever need

In the day

they are quiet

and keep to themselves

they were a closed book

But after 9*

they open up

they’re wild

quirky

fun

nerdy

(amazing)

(bashful, sometimes)

(cute)

They have the dorkiest laugh...

(I never get to hear it in the day)

I don’t have a crush on them (anymore)

but I still remember the way I thought of them.

.

.

.

* We were at a campout.

I call him My Polar Bear. We're dating now. We met in 8th grade when I said something and he called me biased. I knew then, when he called me biased, that I wanted to be his friend. Then he texted me. I was so excited about this boy, who called me biased, texting me and wanting to be my friend. We started with small talk, talking about music. He had a very different taste from I. He willingly listened to the screaming metal I preferred and I listened to the honest raps he liked. He was hanest and told me what he thought of my favorite songs. Soon I found myself venturing away from my usual taste of music, listening to music by NF. I talked to him every day.

He is honest and kind and intelligent. I love that about him. He's stubborn and cute and a bit goofy at times. Within a few weeks I desperately wanted him to like me. I wanted him to at least have a crush on me, even if it meant that he liked me while I love him. Even if it meant him breaking my heart. He had this dorky looking picture of himself and gosh it's amazing.

I wished then, and I wish now, that i could take my fingers and run them through his hair. I wished then and I wish now that I could gaze into his eyes for eternity. I remember in 6th grade all the girls had crushes and they'd write their crush's name down inside a heart and draw thousands of hearts around it. I never did that in 6th grade. Nor 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, or even 7th grade. But I did in 8th grade. When I met this boy.

I love him because he has this way of making me feel accepted, even when I can't accept myself. I love him because he has the most amazing personality. I love him because he is him and doesn't change himself for me or anyone. I love him because he is patient and calm and sweet.

I love him. My Polar Bear

talking with you is

digging into stone

turning it into gravel and

shaping it again

your face is a sculpture

of which I couldn't dream

the possibility of you is

unimaginable and yet

I'll always try

you are a delicacy of the times and

I will not take you for granted.

he wanted flowers, but i’m his vase

they move while i stay in place

they’re a catch, but i’m a chase

he wanted flowers, but i’m his vase

their stems cover my base

but they’ll wither while i keep my grace

he wanted flowers, but i’m his vase

they’ll fill my space

but they won’t leave a trace

he wanted flowers, but i’m his vase

we both long for his embrace

remember...

his hands caress me when he brings them to his face

he wanted flowers, but i’m his vase

they came and went at their own pace

they came and went, but i won the race

...

i love u

but u dont love me

u wonder why i do

and u wonder what i see.

the other day i wouldnt tell

but here are the reasons i fell

you’re beautiful

you’re funny

you care

and you were there for me

when i had no one else

i fell harder

than i have before.

i spend everynight dreaming

and all my 11:11 wishes on you

so getting over and forgetting

has hurt like hell

It was quite the crush.

The papers say he was 57, a respected member of the community, a friend to charities, especially causes for children. He had money, I know that. I sold him suits. He came in once a month, asked for me by name, always bought top labels, always took my advice, always asked me to dinner.

I am 28. That's less than half his age. But his car was nice, his watch was nice, I made sure his suits were nice. And he was nice. Nice smile, nice laugh, nice manners. Other men enjoyed their fittings a little too much, looking down my blouse while I measured their shoulders. Pigs, but that's the job, and I always made my quota. He was never that way, always the perfect gentleman.

Dinner was incredible. The meal, the service, the ambience, the conversation! I was enraptured, fully taken in by the magic of the evening.

We went back to his place. I said just a drink, then take me home, please. I woke up four hours later, the effects of the powder he had mixed into my cocktail wearing off. My head pounded. My body was bruised. My skirt was gone, my panties nowhere to be found. My mouth was dry, I could not speak.

I found the note on the nightstand. Thank you for a good time. Have to get to the office. Money for a cab. I'll call you later.

I was terrified.

He called that night. I ghosted him for two hours. He called 29 times. Then he showed up at my apartment. He wanted me. I said no. I threatened to call the police. He said I was being irrational. He said no one would believe me. I think he was right. He left, laughing. I did not sleep that night.

The next day he texted. He asked when I would be out of work. I told him I would be closing. 8:00pm. He showed up about 7:50. He wanted to talk. I locked up. We were alone. I kissed him. I told him everything was okay. I told him I wanted him. I kissed again, my tongue explored his mouth, his hands explored my body, I breathed faster. I led him to the back, where the suits are made. He said he was so glad I had changed my mind about him. I said I was, too.

We kissed more and more, I unzipped his pants and pulled them down around his ankles. He was very excited. I laid him back on the press table. I told him to watch while I removed my skirt, revealing my naked body to him. I reached up, pulling my top off. While my hands were up I pressed the button. The press began to lower, thousands of pounds of pressure used to remove even the slightest creases from fabrics. He tried to sit up, but his feet were tangled in his pants. I pushed him down, hard. The press lowered.

Like I said, it was quite the crush.