11:10 a.m.

oh my god, i tell my friend after class, i want
to spend the rest of my life making him laugh.
she rolls her eyes and says that i shouldn’t
say that because i’m so young and i have no idea
how long my life will be and i tell her that that’s
the point.

that i may die tomorrow, but i want to be able to call you
up at two a.m. and read you my shitty poems and
pretend that i didn’t imagine the way
you twirl your pencil around your fingers as i wrote them.
i want to be able to pick out your heartbeat in a crowded
room because i’ve spent so long with my head against
your chest that your pulse is imprinted into my eardrums.
i want to be so gone over you that i smile big enough that
everyone else around me smiles too.

for the first time in my life, i can believe that god built
eve out of one of adam’s ribs— they must have
fit together almost as perfectly as you and i do,
identical down to their very bones, so that when
she shook in fear, he did too. and when they grew old
and their knees started cracking as they walked up
stairs, they learned to lean on each other to take
the pain away.

i bet she knew the exact number of  freckles he had
on his shoulders, and the exact number of sins
he carried on his hands. i bet his face lit up
every time she walked into the room and she never
failed to take his breath away no matter how stooped
and stubborn they got. there’s something beautiful
about growing old with someone and i bet
he thanked the devil every night for giving him that opportunity.

i want that forever kind of thing, that never say never
kind of thing, that ‘no you hang up first’ kind of thing.

listen to me like you’re dangling off the edge of a cliff
and my words are the only thing that keeps you hanging on.
i wanna be your first line of defense.
i wanna be your last laugh and all the things
that come in between.

i am tired of writing break up poems. please,
tell me about your sister and your favorite color and
the first time you realized you were breathing and how
long it takes you to open your eyes every morning
when you know what’s out there.

let me tell you about the people who’ve left
graffiti on the concrete walls of my heart. let me cry
in your arms until i’m laughing again. let me hand you
a can of spray paint and bare my soul to you. let
me never forget how often i’ve been burned before, but let
me love the length of your eyelashes so much that
i will gladly go through the pain again, just to be
the person i know i’ll become with you.

so just tell me your bad jokes and let me snort
into my palm until you’re laughing too. grin
at the stupid thing i do with my hands when
i’m nervous. catch one and never let it go.
give me so many butterflies that i’m causing
hurricanes on the other side of the world—

hear my voice from the doorway and look up
already smiling and honestly, i think that
would be enough.