yesterday i told my dad i was scared about the reveal

he said, "well i'll still love you."

he said, "whether you're you, or cornelia, i'll still love you just the same."

and i hope you do too.

it's time we moved back to munich, or london, or dublin,

or wherever it was you came from

it's time we got back to our biology

and to our chemistry

and to sunday nights that involved a lot more reruns than dim computer screens

but paris is only miles away

and just because your skin is a little thinner

a little lighter

doesn't mean you can't be seen

so buy a ticket for the overnight train back where you belong

don't come for the roses,

or for the tower,

or for any kind of heaven sent pastry

because this is so much more than just some beautiful city painted on the back side of any postcard.

this is home.

and if you need me,

how red always has and always will be my favorite color
and how few people know that


i remember the first time my dad cried
and the first time my mom didn't

i remember red cheeks
and bad eye contact
 and enough respect to deserve no goodbye

i remember my first love
and the ones that came after
and how i knew they never would

and i remember you

dark eyes
gluten free personality
the drink you always brought to english
and that boy you chased for years

i remember you

big nose
curly blonde hair
another rubik's cube fanatic
whose morning bowl of cereal
was far less important than the one you skated in

and of course,

i remember you

sweet lips
star wars junkie
everything logical heartbreaker
and you were good at it



i remember the restless nights

and the reckless nights

and the nights i could've sworn i was sailing the moon

and the rest of you.



because how could i forget?

to you they mean spring but to me they mean winter

they mean pink blankets

and teacups

that hit the ground a little sooner than you hoped

they mean teacups

and white dogs

and every stolen chocolate from grandma's pantry

but they mostly mean birthdays

her name was adleen

and she was 2

and she was almost 3 

but she thought she was 8

because she danced like she was 8

because she sang like she was 8

because she spoke about angels like she was 8

and we celebrated her birthday every monday

for 8 mondays

and her favorite insect was a butterfly

because they flew to her

because they always flew to her

she held butterflies in her hands

as 

if

she

were

a

flower

and she was

and her name was adleen

and her birthday was every monday

because we knew

they'd stop coming

and they did.

january 16 2006 - december 9 2008

it's december 5th and everyone has already been asked to preference

the only boy i wanted to take has

but if he hadn't, i don't even think i would've asked him

the last dance i went to was ok. and the one before that was ok. i've never been to a dance where I came back on a cloud higher than I left. maybe there will be one this year. 

who knows. 

the living room floor is cold. my brother won't stop eating chocolate from the advent calendar. it's 7 pm and i probably should've made dinner, but my eyes are too tired.

that's ok

i've been ok for enough weeks that ok is just a drill

it's a fire drill that has lasted one too many class periods, and one too many attendance schools, and it's getting irritating, and unnecessary, and we do this every year, so can we go back inside now?

can i go inside now?

where it's a little warmer

a little quieter

where hands still hide under blankets

but the air,

it never got in between anything 

i went on a drive last night with an old friend who wore a white hat and lies that matched

and honestly,

i just wanted it to be you

i played your second favorite song the whole way home

which was a mistake

i saw street lights just as clear as the last 5 days 

which haven't been

so how are you?

how's your sister? 

are you still ok? 

 sorry if im late

because it's half past 11 and half past your bedtime 

it's half past whispering under made up constellations and half past constant conversation

it's half past the 6th 

and half past dreaming of ever going back.

and i know you're ok

and ill pretend i am too

but im not.