Because
For What Matters—
This is for the cold,
and also for the heat.
This is for nights on a front porch,
wrapped up in blankets or stripping away layers,
feeling the world pulse,
and the house breathe,
and every molecule of air as it comes in contact with your skin.
This is for all the dried roses
tucked away in my glass bowl
and the empty Jones Soda bottles
and for glass Coke bottles.
This is for Marlboro
and Parliament
and Camel
and all the cigarettes that have kept keep the demons away.
And the collection of empty cartons.
The taste of wood-tipped, wine flavoured Black and Milds
with Dr Pepper.
This is for old Hollywood,
Photographs of Marilyn Monroe,
And posters of Audrey Hepburn.
This is for heated blankets
And Tarot cards
And silk scarves
And Gilmore Girls.
This is for lost journals.
And this is for the blue bell lost to eternity.
This is for late nights
Discussing art and beauty and nostalgia.
This is for bass so loud it moves your soul
As cars drive by.
This is for First Friday
And cups of coffee
And Black Dog.
This is for the gazebo,
And meteor showers.
This is for the Pleiades
and the purple hue of the midnight sky
and the glitter and diamonds that burn eternities away.
This is for my best friend,
the boy with a smile to launch one thousand ships.
This is to tell him how much I love him
and that he deserves the world.
This is to remind him how sweet the sunlight is.
This is to remind him that his lonely is only temporary.
And to tell him how much I love him.
This is for the girl with spider bites
whose body is slowly becoming a work of art
who taught me sexuality is beautiful,
that appearances can be deceptive
that I’m not always right about the nature of anything.
For making me promise to be open and honest.
For letting me be her best friend.
This is for her sister
who taught me how powerful and beautiful a woman can be.
This is for the girl with red hair
who reminded me what conviction was
and never once bent to my will.
To tell her that family will always love you
But family doesn’t always mean blood ties
And that she will always have a home.
This is for the boy who I can only describe as fabulous.
This is to thank him for making me smile and making me laugh.
And to apologize for anything he ever dreamed I sold him.
This is for the boy who listens
and smokes cigarettes on night walks.
This is for the girl sometimes scared of her own beauty.
This is for acrylics paints and dark rooms and print making and freckles.
People are rarely that talented
and even more rarely that fantastic.
This is for the quite girl
Whose wit can sting
and brilliance I cannot describe.
This is for the boy who raises his eyebrow
and purses his lips.
The boy who doesn’t rule out people immediately
and takes the time to know them first.
This is for our inside jokes.
And perhaps this is for the bear cub.
This is for the girl who can touch the sky
who listened to me
no matter what I said.
I’m sorry I haven’t really been around.
This is for the girl with gorgeous lips
to tell her that sometimes the universe isn’t fair
but she is powerful and brilliant and extraordinary
and beautiful.
Because she deserves a poem written about her
This is for the girl who broke my heart—
oblivious she was ever doing it—
who showed me my emotions
and taught me how powerful I am.
For the girl who I would never admit I loved.
And this is for the girl with blonde hair
whose lips gently turn up into a smirk whenever she lies
and with eyes like Athena
because sometimes existing is the cure.
This is for family
and roommates and new friends
and old friends.
This is for the women who are goddesses.
This is for the men who are beautiful.
This is for neurosis.
This is for Tallahassee Springs.
This is for stories you’ve heard a thousand times.
This is for bonfires.
This is for promises.
This is because I love you.
.We Love You Too. |
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