i bob up and down around the surface constantly

it's not difficult to slip back down and keep going

the first time this year that it happened was a while ago now

if i'm being specific it was in march

if i'm being specific it was the twelfth of march

i don't want to make this about her again

because it should always be about you

i dropped all the way down through my new normal

to a place i almost didn't recognise

you sort of gripped onto my hand

on the side of the bathtub and up the road

you didn't leave my side for the week

i don't remember it well i think my brain slowed a bit

but i'm grateful for how much you didn't mind

when i couldn't stop crying

we'll be together forever because otherwise

i don't know how i'll exist

for what it's worth

i think you saved my life

i have a resume in evolution. i can give you a list of all the words and terms i've used to introduce myself. i stopped collecting my references a while ago because my relationships became interviews, especially my relationship with myself.

"how do you qualify for this position?"

every day. over and over again. measuring my insides like a ritual.

i'm proud to have the capacity to love anyone. to be able to see each human as they are without any prerequisites is my most beautiful quality.

my resume has become outdated, it couldn't fit all the love i feel.

i say hello to all the dogs i meet

i get excited when i see them

and they usually get excited too

my friends look over at them

when i say "dog, dog, dog!"

i like when dogs look like their person

i like to think it means something

that they have grown together

or maybe the person picked the dog

or vice versa

because they sensed familiarity

i love to say hello to dogs

because they are alive

and loving everything i meet

means i am alive too

i feel tragic in a way that exceeds emotion

it's the kind that's religious and terrible

the eyes in roman paintings and wild animals

the fire on the altar and the ecstasy in the burn

i have turned myself into art by accident

found something to believe in the pull of my throat

the dry retching of beautiful pain that gathers there

i've turned into a sort of greek tragedy

to acknowledge the undeniable heat in my chest

which contrasts with my miserably icy skin

i found myself in the margin of a tragedy

the kind where the lovers tear themselves apart

because they can't bare feeling whole and loveable

i am happy often to my very own shock

i feel i shouldn't be and it doesn't make sense

but i feel content and peaceful in the way i assume

the lovers felt when everything burned down around them

if i have one thing i have everything

joy and tragedy have never competed

they've been the lovers tearing themselves apart

trying to mend one another before tearing open their own wounds

allow me tragic happiness as it always ends and rebirths

allow me messy thoughts with bad explanation

as i will never have the right words

but life will move on anyway in it's tragic manner

and i will feel happy in autumn

i'm scared to forget these things

the pains that migrate from brain to body

and always back for the winter

i'm scared if i don't remember

that i will forget to be cautious

i'm careful with everything i do

i handle life delicately and kindly

i'm not sure if it's nature or nurture

and i don't know if it's good or bad

i think i want it to be bad

so that i have an excuse to hurt something

to be reckless with something

and save some care for myself

to scream that i'm fragile and hear nothing back

none of this will be good enough

my own standards are too high

and i know somewhere deep that it's a mix

it is my best nurturing from my mother

and my worst nature from god

to sit on the forest floor for a while

and allow the progress to stop

bridge after bridge is ahead of me

and a thousand fires for me to bleed on

let me sit in the moss for a day

and suck the venom out of my leg

one blue sock on the ground

it must have been part of a pair

two blue socks in shoes

made together to be bought together

bought together to be worn together

two socks on different grounds

one blue sock on the ground

i claim to not believe in talent

that it belittles artists

who work hard to be skilled

but i don't have another word

that explains why i'm like this

why i can so clearly see

everything in my mind

before i make it

why my brain is like a track

for words to cross through

from some part of the sky

to the ground

it's never been difficult for me

to think of the right words

unless i have to say them out loud

but i don't believe in talent

so i just say i'm not good

i don't love sweet things

any of my friends will tell you this

i drink my coffee without sugar

and i prefer eggs to pancakes

i'm the type to eat pasta for breakfast

and extra dinner for dessert

all the people i love best prefer sweet

they all like me more than i do

i'm a good accompaniment

but i don't see the point of me alone

i'd like to say i'm honey

and maybe someone who loved me would

but even i like honey in tea

i think of you every time my phone buzzes

i quickly, shamefully hope for an apology

some kind of reason i'm worth your time

proof you still think about me all the time

i decided it isn't fair to hold any of this over you

i'm hurt, maybe i did something wrong

i feel tragic and worthless and melodramatic

all the things i promised myself i would never feel

when i promised myself i would never be in love

i've fogged up my window with all this blame

and through the haze i can't see it in myself to hate you

i'll go on hating myself and find comfort in familiarity

months have gone by since we spoke about this for the first time

and nothing has changed, it's only grown

replying to you without addressing you, hoping you will read into it

crying and choking because i'm so scared to fall in love with you

here's how i was taught to love, with cynicism and a crystal ball