i love the freckles that dapple your collarbone,
your double-jointed bent-backward elbows
i love the scar under your chin
and your dark unruly eyebrows
i love the blister you wear on your ring finger from holding a pencil wrong
i love your frizzy hair on rainy days
your voice cracks in the chorus of our song
i love how you speak to yourself when no one’s around
how you stumble over words when people are
i love how you sit slouched over at the table
and only ever play taylor swift in the car
i love the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh at your own jokes
but you loving yourself
is the thing i love most.
i put salt on watermelon
to make it taste sweeter.
i wonder if all these tears
will one day make my happiness taste sweeter too.
the brightest stars are the closest to burning out.
maybe they already are
but you’re too far from them to know it.
a curious sensation
they shouldn’t call it falling in love.
i feel like i’m floating.
the falling part comes later
and some might call it heartbreak.
i hold my poems like a mirror
i read my handwritten stanzas back to myself
and i’ve never felt both so expressive and so understood.
i hear you,
you see me.
i’m staring through my soul with this magic we call poetry.