you’re even better than the very few things I like.

(make me nervous, and the curtains are drawn back to reveal

blue skies when you’re here)

and I can’t wait for something to begin

(a few months now)

even though I probably won’t ever see you again

(so I’ll bid you adieu now,

in a poem you’ll never read;

I’ll tell you exactly how I feel)

like I’d say “I love you” and think I mean it—

that’s what I’m saying right now (I wish I had a summer,

but I’m not gonna get a summer. No picturesque poems that happen in real life.)

but I think we’ll need a new phrase soon;

everyone knows how to say “I love you”, but nobody knows what it means

-

(okay fuck the cynicism—the downer’s done now.)

-

when you’re here I feel brighter (and open, you could touch my heart

with your fingertips if you reached across the inches—closed the distance—

you’d feel how much it hopes to meet yours)

like I’m waiting for you to fix me,

rip away the cynicism, melodramatism, and depression; self-deprecation,

waiting for you to make me feel better about everything.

like you’re gonna help me finally let the bad stuff go (-- were it that easy,

no, I’ve gotta save myself if I’m ever gonna get saved).

-

but I can’t wait (for something to begin).

-

(I’m gonna get happy, I’m gonna get happy, finally, really—I mean that,

I fucking mean it—I’m gonna be happy again.)

and I want to help you too, I want to chase the sadness from your eyes.

(I want to hold your hand, feel the pressure of your fingers hot against my own,

for just a minute—because we’re probably never going to see each other again.)

-

-

partially inspired by events in my life and “You know how I do” by Taking Back Sunday.