what if

today, i saw you and thought

what if?

you were standing with your friends, 

hair unruly from scrimmaging.

in that moment,

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seeing you for the first time in a long time,

i wish i could be standing next to you.

my mind traveled across the room,

floating nearby yours.

i wanted to hear your words,

know the jokes you were laughing at.

i wanted to be there.

because, in a what if world,

we might’ve walked into that room together.

i might’ve told you the joke you laughed at

or been the one who got the pleasure of having your words.

i might’ve never even thought about a what if without you.

maybe, you would’ve broken my heart already.

i would’ve walked in and turned right around,

a heavy airiness in my chest.

but, i would’ve been able to fall for you.

i know, i’ll never get the chance.

we’re close, yet i’ve never felt farther from you.

maybe you saw me today and went away thinking about me.

maybe you didn’t recognize me, didn’t even deen me significant.

but, i’ll tell myself that tonight

we’ll fall asleep thinking of each other, wondering

what if.

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courage

last night, i cried so hard that my ears hurt.

today, i woke up with my throat screaming,

too dry to open my mouth and let air in.

my pillows were still wet,

my eyes still puffy.

when i plopped out of bed,

my knees and shoulders ached

and i buckled under my own weight.

sometimes you wake up with the difficulties of yesterday.

people will spout condolences or positive, affirming quotes,

but no amount of rainbows and hanging cats

could make my heart stop diving down into

the pit of my hollow stomach.

because, it takes a lot,

a whole lot of courage

to leave your hollow space

in the one corner of your bed

when all you want to do

is build a brick wall around it.

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it takes a whole lot of courage

to let prying eyes bore into your soul

wondering what they can do to help.

it’s hard to face yourself in the mirror

and pick out all the things you’d like to change.

it’s hard being blue

in a world of yellows.

and, yet, you get out of bed.

you brush your hair

and you put on makeup.

you put on your brave face,

because staying in bed all day is one way to cope,

but, it takes courage,

not more or less,

just

courage

to live your life.

Drake’s on his Worst Behavior

Although I could make an entire blog post (honestly, a series of blog posts) on the perfection that is Rihanna, today I’m talking about something she said in her interview with Vogue.

In her interview, she recounted a very famous speech that Drake gave while introducing her as MTV’s Video Vanguard recipient in 2016.

“Waiting through that speech was probably the most uncomfortable part. I don’t like too many compliments; I don’t like to be put on blast,” she said to Vogue writer Chioma Nnadi.

In other words, Drake made her pretty uncomfortable. This very public expression of unrequited feelings made by one celebrity to another is manipulative and harmful. For one, Drake chose to do his manifestation of his feelings in a moment meant to honor Rihanna’s decade-long achievements in the music industry, but, instead, he took away all the sentiment in that speech. 

Photo Credit: naradanews.com

In the wake of Rihanna’s belated response, people have come to Drake’s defense saying he was simply trying to get out his feelings. If he truly had Ri’s intentions at heart, he could’ve expressed his infatuation with her after they left the stage or virtually any other private setting. So, no, it wasn’t a spur of the moment reaction, but a cheap way of revealing his crush on Rihanna in hopes that she won’t immediately reject him.

All in all, I simply think Drake could’ve handled the situation a lot better. Now, the 2016 VMA’s will go down as “that time Drake said he loved Rihanna on TV.” It will never be a celebration of Rihanna’s boundless talent, (those killer performances, though!) which is what she definitely deserved.

goodbye

you know, i write all these poems for you,

but what if when we meet again it’s different.

the world is still on your shoulders,

but in a new way.

your hair doesn’t flop the same way.

our conversations are short and stunted.

our awkward moments too awkward.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

when you see me again,

it won’t be like the millions of times i’ve played it over in my head.

everything will be different.

and, i’m scared as hell,

because i want our same.

i want our drawn out conversations about everything and nothing at the same time.

i want when you think of me,

instead of letting the thought float by,

to pick up the phone and call me.

i want our effortlessness and our groove.

the way we worked together was unbelievable.

i can’t imagine you without your snide comments and brilliant random thoughts.

i can’t imagine you with me, without our little quirks.

if we meet again,

it can’t be anything different,

because then we’re already too far apart.

we’re in different universes

when we need to be in the same rooom.

red hoods

I.

you remember me as a pensive, emotional soul.

you remember the intricate, twisty inner-workings of my mind.

you were always “there” for me when i needed you.

that’s why it took me so long.

maybe i was so used to the comfort of your shadow

that it never dawned on me to leave it.

i deserve the shine you always used to get.

it’s been hard accepting some of it now,

now that you’re gone.

you still pop up every now and then,

but the pain you bring is only temporary.

thank god.

II.

we never were close.

but, you and i learned to

live with each other.

we got wrapped up in our long conversations,

laughing at the carefully placed jokes.

but, you’re a hard pill to swallow,

the fact that i’ll never be enough for you.

cool enough.

funny enough.

kind enough.

enough.

so, even if it’s hard for me now,

i just have to take a deep breath,

close my eyes,

and force myself to take you in.

III.

you’re a sheep in wolf’s clothes.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

your little red riding hood is enough to

hide your long, wiry fur,

your sharp, gutting claws.

i’m just a cookie in your basket,

as you skipped along the pebbly path

to grandma’s house.

i’m just tired of falling out

and you letting me crumble to pieces.

pieces

i hope i’m not asking too much of you.

i’m not asking you to fix me,

because that wouldn’t be fair.

i’m not asking you to accept me with wide open arms,

but i’d love that.

i don’t want you to be my friend,

because we’ve never truly worked as just friends before.

i wish we weren’t on different time zones,

we always fall out of infatuation when the other falls in.

i hope that we don’t crumble apart,

because i can’t handle another landslide.

just like i’m sure you can’t handle another person leaving you behind.

i promise i’d never walk away from you,

i’d never leave you stranded.

i can’t promise forever,

that’s too much to bear.

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i can only promise you pieces of me,

a puzzle with some empty spots.

instead of presents wrapped in bows,

i’ll give you my heart and soul

in the shape of little irregular pieces of cardboard.

i’ll wait for you to fit me in next to the edge pieces,

i’ll make it easy for you.

because, it’s so easy to see myself with you,

my head fits into the dip in your chest

like we were made for each other.

maybe you’re my final piece to the puzzle,

but i’ll never force you to fit with me.

well-traveled hands

do you remember how it used to be?

when we were still innocent,

so much younger?

do you remember the first time you saw me?

i was wearing my cousin’s old tank top and a pair of shorts.

i remember the first time i saw you.

actually, maybe not the first time,

but i do remember the first time

I really saw you.

that stubborn piece of hair that never stayed in place.

your hands worn and callused,

but like home to the touch.

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your smirk that can still melt me.

i remember that night,

surrounded by friends,

when i knew i wanted you.

but, now it’s too late,

you aren’t the same boy with the messy hair and soft smile.

our hands are like strangers,

i’m not even sure i know how yours feel anymore.

the lines i used to trace,

delicately, so as not to cause any slight ripple in their perfect surfaces.

we’re strangers,

but unlike the strangers we were when we met.

now, the uneasy feeling is from lack of contact,

not the absence of it altogether.

i don’t know the new you,

you don’t know the new me.

maybe one day,

i’ll once again trace the lines in your hands,

feeling their gorgeous warmth on the pads of my fingertips.

maybe you’ll remember the little things i do,

so unaware that i do them,

and you’ll tell me about it,

like it’s a well-known fact.

what i’m really trying to say is,

when can we not be strangers,

when can we be the new girl and the boy with the floppy hair

that knew each other like the backs of their well-traveled hands?