fading

this morning i forgot what you sound like
last week i forgot what you smell like
4 months ago i forgot what you tasted like
and i'm starting to forget
why i'm trying so hard
to remember

here's the thing

you've made my heart stop 4000 times since i've met you

and conditioned my heart to racing for years

now it can outrun the best

you keep thinking you're in love 

but your love is a brand new white t-shirt 

that's dingy after a few hikes and climbs

but you wear it until it rips

my love is satin and it's been passed down

generation to generation

it's been red and blue and yellow once, for a few weeks

and aside from a few stains,

i try to keep it clean

every time i write a poem

it's meant to be about someone else

but it's always about you

one time a boy told me i always smelled 

like sunflowers

and before i thanked him or even blushed

i turned to see if you heard

nothing that has happened so far has been anything we could control

I remember slippery driveways.

I remember honey sticks and getting lost at farmers markets.

I remember telling the girl making a ceramic cross necklace that it was wrong. I remember not understanding why everyone disagreed.

I remember the sour altoids from trader joes and I remember the day the stopped carrying them.

I remember every song on the CD parker seegmiller made for me.
I remember saying I hated nostalgia, and him thinking that was intriguing or something stupid.

I remember drinking so many slurpees. Too many.

I remember my dad punched a hole through the bedroom door.
I don't remember why.

I remember praying to find the match to my sock.


I remember praying for my grandma to be able to remember who I was.

I remember swimming in the gross green lake.

I remember my 8th birthday party. It was a combined party with one of my friends and she opened a present that was supposed to go to me. Even though it was mine, I felt bad taking it from her. It was a stuffed horse.

I remember Zane and how we called him Zane-the-pain-the-big-butt-stain. It was mean but he called me something mean too so it wasn't bullying I think.

I remember getting called to the principles office for sticking pickles on the brick wall every day at lunch.
I remember falling in love on trampolines.

I remember 8th grade night games and never wanting to go if Tanner Thompson wasn't there.

I remember trying hard not to get the bottoms of my jeans soaking wet from the North Western rain.
I remember counting freckles.

I remember when my sisters hamster died, she ran away with it and we couldn't find her for quite an hour.

I remember how Olivia Evans house always smelled weird.

I remember the tan leather lady that lived in the neighborhood.

I remember my dad sitting outside during lightening storms.

I remember when the neighbors got in a drunk fist fight outside of our house.
I remember peeking out the window when my mom told me not to.

I remember 24 hour drives.

get well soon

he told me his whole world was falling apart

that the sun didn't shine for him any more

i told him to focus on the things that he loves

the girl with toothpick legs and a ceramic heart 

had shattered his 

and whenever he stood up his hands shook

but he thinks it's all his fault

one night he tried to write the things he loved

and was left with nothing but a blank paper 

covered in tear stains

these boots are made for talking

my mamas always borrowing mine 

she's never been one to love what she has 

but I borrow hers just as much 

so maybe it says just as much about me 

as it does about her. 

once I fell for a boy who never wore any. 

I guess he felt like he needed more protection around his heart 

than his feet 

and I guess I should've done that too 

because while his feet grew callused and tough 

his heart didn't even bruise. 

my dads been buying the same pair since I can remember

and he's had the same job that long too.

I can't blame him though because he's doing what's best and I love him for that 

plus, the pair he keeps buying are cool.

they're cool shoes. 

they say you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes 

so maybe that explains why my sister wears the same ones every day 

and why my brother only wears the ones his friends wear

and why I take so long to pick mine out in the morning.

this is not a love poem

this isn't a love poem.

this is a poem about cactus popped basketballs and wool blankets,

2 hour bike rides and 25 cent trinkets,

too many years of thoughts that never got to taste the sunlight,

or dance on the tips of your lips.

too young to be behind the wheel,

but perfectly young to know what it is to feel.

this is about betrayal and heartbreak and beds that we never found time to make.

slurred rants to anyone who would listen 

and hour long meetings our mothers made us sit in.

this is about trying not to care when she puts her fingers through your hair

and looking at each other for just a second too long.

perfections not needed for something to be grand, 

but it's constantly fighting for that coveted upper-hand.

this is about sugar and spice and everything nice 

about memorizing your eyes and seeing them whenever i closed mine

about constantly saying "i'm fine i'm fine i'm fine"

this is about learning that just because someone stops thinking you're incredible

doesn't mean you ever stopped being incredible.

maybe this is a poem about fear and youth and learning the truth

about trial and error and always messy hair

but this isn't a love poem.