18 minutes left of class.but I know I'll never be Lexi,because I'll never learn to paste my pain on a screenwith words to make the rest of us catch our breath.16 minutes left of classand my head is spinning                      swimming                       drowningand there are...

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If bricks were minutes you'd have far too many of mine already,and I'd be stealing yours whenever you turn away.If bricks were prayers we'd each have a small city built up behind the bedroom door,but only if you'll count the ones behind the steering wheel instead of on our knees.If bricks were friends that used to be I'd really only have three,because people...

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All I know is there's a deck of 52 things a boy loved about me hidden in my top right drawer.(Except they're not all that hidden.)All I know is I believe in clichés and that love is wanting in the nicest way and that the best ones have no "supposed to's".I'm not supposed to want to drop everything for you, but you weren't...

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someone else's gas moneyburger chains you've never triedpavement singed bare feetrumours I wouldn't correctanything but resttents and high ceilingsraspberry jamstance socksballoons with heliumthe temper trapnewly waxed skispraying because you're happysock tan linesstraight facesback two rows of the busorange juicefridaysphotos you don't remember takingpleated skirtspeople who you don't remember becoming friends with, you just arenot everybody winning a medalpostcardsred mangoholding handsjeepsnew cities8th grade journal...

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Quilts heavy Eyes heavy Words heavy And we don't know what to do with them. Words wander Hands wander Thoughts wander And we don't know where to go with them. Baby don't let them steal your breath. Don't loosen your grip on your humanity. I know and he knows it's the one thing with which we do what we wish. We are what...

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"Just Like Heaven" was playing but I wasn't sitting shotgun and you weren't late for curfew and the odds weren't in my favor.You danced through my kitchen today and I realized just how many of you have let me breathe into your chest in the doorframe.Because hearts get worn but my hands aren't heavy now. Not yet. This isn't good for me quite...

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This is a true story about how nobody ever took my crayons.I just forgot about them.Maybe I realized that watercolors look more elegant and colored pencils more sophisticated and nobody ever takes crayons seriously anyways and maybe I used to believe that being taken seriously was worth more than my crayons.But this is a true story about how I danced with you last...

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I only have two stamps in my passport. Two stamps. Three weeks, roughly. But Paris is on the list, baby. I want her streets and her rain to swallow my shoes. I want her autumn to sting my lips and her language to infiltrate my dreams like a thousand marching men flood a valley. Paris is the list. And we're all very much aware that...

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