i wrote a poem for you because
you make me believe in happily ever afters,
romantic suicides and the fact that one day
i might not break everything i touch.
i don’t know what i’m going to do in four years
because i can’t comprehend a life without you.
and i hate you for it.
you’re just so—
you adjust my skirt and give me a pair of jeans
and say, “don’t let society make you .”
you stay up late with me to watch the sun set
only to wake me up early to see it rise.
you guide me out of the way of
already-broken leaves and
piggy-back me straight into puddles and snowdrifts.
you steal pieces from every one of my jigsaw
puzzles and call it a metaphor.
you’re beautiful and amazing and
if anyone ever tries to tell you differently,
it’s because they’ve never seen you
laugh at two o’clock in the morning
or spend days trying to figure out how to knit
a scarf for your step-sister’s birthday.
they’ve never seen you bang the steering wheel
to the rhythm of any song you
can find on the radio, or grin at your paper
when you figure out a math problem.
they don’t know the way you dance to
Here Comes the Sun in the middle of the cereal aisle
or that you can only snap your fingers on one hand.
at the end of almost every text you send,
you sign ‘ily’, like you’re trying
to say it as much as possible before you start regretting it.
i know i won’t—even if we turn into an accident,
i’m not sure i could ever regret you.
so here’s a poem i wrote about you for valentine’s day.
i hope it makes you smile like the day i told you
my hair was like fire and your eyes like ice
so maybe if we got together we could destroy the world,
or even build a new one.