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I wish I could forget who I am

and slip body and soul

into the books whose pages

I caress with my fingertips

inked scribbles that carry me

through dark stretches of night

I wish I could keep the feeling

of being loved by you

and lose everything else

falling deep into a tornado

of whirlwind colors and laughing danger

living all the stories I once wished

were mine

the event starts at 10:30

and I’m ready to go to bed.

heck, I know  I’m like an old granny

but that’s my bedtime now– 10:30

9:30

not later than 11:30

and I’ll sleep as long as sleep lets me

10 hours, 12, 13

either that or I won’t sleep well at all

fitful nights and too early mornings.

you were always the early bird.

I was always the night owl.

I miss how we used to make

compromises for each other

you more than I.

I’m not the kid who could stay up

all night lying in the grass

looking up at the stars

talking to you.

if you were here, I could do it again.

on my own I only want to do

the living that happens in my dreams

where no one tells me things are

impossible.

but if you called me up tonight

asked me to come out on that green

I’d do it. no questions. no answers.

just the two of us

and the sky.

at work my favorite place

is in the back where I can

submerge my hands in the

warm dishwater and not

talk to anybody.

in the front the music that I

used to listen to reminds me of

brick walkways and dusky green

and you

and the essence of those moments

slips into my soul and I

ache.

this is just another moment

when I know I could never

stop loving you

even if I wanted to.

I keep telling myself

love in the absence of someone is not

depression

love in the absence of someone is not

anxiety

people keep telling me I can’t

love you and be happy

but I keep insisting that they’re wrong

all the while hiding in my room telling myself

I’m not waiting for you to rescue me

I feel like it’s possible to love you

while one day, in the future

not now, heaven knows

to be happy

it has to be

but I honestly don’t know how

when the missing echoes

echoes inside even when

I’m trying not to pay it any attention

and as hard as I try not to

ask myself the unanswerable question

I do–

how in the world does this feel

to you?

I call him up because I’m

worried about him. because I

want to know all about the craziness

that is the first two weeks of college

and make sure he’s still doing laundry.

turns out he’s pretty much fine

still standing on his own two feet

challenging the world to a fight

with a mischievous smile

as he always is.

turns out I’m the one who needs

to talk. turns out I’m the one who’s not

fine. turns out I’m the one lost

like I usually am.

he always tells me what he actually

thinks, not what I want to hear

and I’m grateful for it.

but tonight we’re not talking about

economics or music or climbing.

we’re talking about love.

we’re talking about my story.

we’re talking about the thing I never

talk about.

because this week it’s been eating me alive.

he’s an atheist. a nihilist. stubborn and

scientific to a fault. but also

compassionate. also my best friend.

a person I let in when my number one rule is

don’t let anyone in.

he says that I’m not holding on to you.

I’m holding on to air.

he says I’m worshiping the past

not anything in the present.

he says I’m destroying myself

every day

denying myself happiness

denying myself a future.

he says he doesn’t believe in soulmates

(neither do I) but says that if

anything changes for you, and if

you’re right for me,

you’ll come for me.

that if I really believe in a God

and in a plan

then I have to believe that if I

let go of you

you’ll still come back to me

if it’s right.

he says that I chose my faith

but in the end I haven’t chosen anything

if I’m still holding on to you

not trusting my faith at all

letting it wither and die inside me

chewing me up from the inside.

he says he doesn’t care if I believe

I deserve love. he says I can come up

to New York, and fight him if I want.

but he says I do. he says I have

so much compassion inside me. so much

love that he hates to see pooling inside

festering, never to be given away.

never to be loved in return. he says he thinks

I want that. to be loved.

I do.

I say–letting go feels like a betrayal.

I say–I didn’t have a choice.

I say–I don’t want to love anyone else.

I say–I’d rather be alone.

I say–I’m afraid to open myself up again.

I say–dying would be easier than this.

they’re all true.

he’s not saying I need someone. he’s not

saying that I have to be with someone.

he’s saying I deserve to be.

he’s saying he wants me to be happy.

I do too. I do. I do. I do.

I don’t know what to do.

all I know is that I can’t imagine not

loving you forever.

all I know is that I’m afraid

you’ll never love me enough to try.

all I know is that I’m afraid

that it’s over for you

when it’s not for me.

I know I want to be happy.

but I still want it to be with you.

he tells me to be selfish. to choose myself.

I don’t know if I can.

I’m terrified of boys

perfectly innocent boys

guys like the one who says

let’s play music together

and I’m terrified he means

more than that

’cause I know all I can say

to the question of more

is no

I’m not sure why I go

but here I am driving in rain so thick

I can barely see

flashers blaring my location.

I know I’m drawn to these meetings

this little house in the city

unlike any other church

I’ve ever been to

and so I go even when I know

I’ll probably just sit and cry and try to sing–

It’s been a hard, hard week.

A house church, that’s what it’s called

bewildered me the first time I showed up

young people with a few older sprinkled through

a living room and den

just two guitars, a cajon, and impassioned voices

decaf coffee in the kitchen

people who live what they believe

and don’t make a big deal about it.

worship isn’t like I’m used to

one song flows into the other without borders.

the people have no borders too

stand close or sit far away

couch or floor or chair or wall

sing or be silent

come early or late

shout or whisper

jump or dance or stand or hug.

there are no pews here, no screen with words

no lines to follow.

I don’t agree with everything but that’s okay

I don’t have to believe the same things

to walk through this door

to be welcomed as family

and somehow they still talk to me

the girl who enters quietly

leans against the door frame

either sings with all her might

or cries through the melodies

and says nothing of why afterward.

somehow they don’t mind

that I’m a mess.

I don’t think they’d mind

anyone’s mess

or questions

or unbelief

whatever form it took.

and so here I am tonight

I don’t have strength to stand

I curl in a ball, knees to chest

arms squeezing tight

trying to make that hollow hurt less

trying to keep the dark out

asking question after question of God

struggling to believe that he loves me

when I have been in so much pain.

they call him Dad here. they call us kids.

I gravitate toward those powerful

unassuming words.

this is how I fight my battles, the song goes.

this is how I fight my battles, people sing

bare feet on wooden floor, swaying.

I’m glad I don’t have to run from this place

like I’ve been running.

ordinary church makes me stop breathing.

can’t sit through a single service anymore

find myself running through the neighborhoods

till my feet still their panic

hiding in alleys and looking at the sky

or stuffing everything deep inside till I’m dizzy

with the pressure of it.

there everyone seems content to stand

in their rows

praise God without mess

seeming so perfect so happy

when I can’t pretend to be normal.

when believing cost me everything I most wanted.

when it still does.

I still need Jesus but I’m done pretending

I’m okay anymore.

Here I can be whatever I am.

Here I can sing or shout or leave or

stay or be completely silent, watching.

Here I can do as I am now and cry

through the verses

letting myself feel in ways it isn’t safe to do so

other places

’cause people and places aren’t safe for me anymore.

there’s no shadow he won’t light up,

mountain he won’t climb up,

coming after me, they sing

there’s no wall he won’t kick down,

lie he won’t tear down, coming after me.

I couldn’t earn it, I don’t deserve it,

still he gave himself away.

oh, the overwhelming, never-ending,

reckless love of God.

I wish you were here to hear it.

tonight I can only mouth the words

I don’t have the strength to do much else.

I tell God to show me how he loves me

Because I’m too blind and dumb to see it myself

Because I feel alone and abandoned

Because I’ve prayed and prayed and still

it hasn’t happened

not that I can tell.

Someone places a warm hand on my back in passing

you’re doing a good job, she says.

she has no idea how much I needed

to hear it.

it’s a wedding, not a funeral

I tell myself

white dress

vows traded through

clasped hands

eyes of two people

happy to drown in the other

it’s a wedding, not a funeral

but I’m wearing black

heart just a deeper shade

of bruise

processional music begins

couple walks down the aisle

wedding, not a funeral–

all I can see is my love

walking out the door

leaving me with a list of

(maybe) nevers

tombstone heart pushing away

the finality in the tolling

of the bell

I tell myself–

there’s always maybe.

you’re a fighter, my mother says

so where did your fight go?

 

I bought a punching bag off Facebook

from a guy in Fredericksburg who doesn’t care enough to spell

because I thought it might help

release

all the emotions inside me that never get out

 

I can’t very well tell her

I can only seem to fight for you

when you won’t even fight for yourself

or for me

or for us

she’ll just look at me like that again

and then I’ll really want to punch something

 

I like the feeling of fist hitting plasticy fabric

the satisfying smack, the opposing

force, I used to love doing this back when

I had dreams to fight for

stories of other lives keeping me up

at night with their excitement and danger

 

you stopped fighting for me walked away and I

kept facing off with the devil or whatever

opponent kept you in the dark kept us

apart but now I’m just

pawing at the air

can’t seem to stop

 

one, two, one two three

jab, cross, jab cross hook

heartbeat climbing up my throat

throat small with breath

breath trying to run away with me, as usual–

don’t know why I can’t seem to fight for myself

I met you and myself didn’t seem to matter

anymore I couldn’t think of myself

singularily and yet when my

whole being aches for you I can’t

stop thinking about myself but only

in relation to you what I used to fight for

doesn’t seem to matter can’t

bring myself to care

about me without you

 

now I’m just trying to punch down

the wall between

me and myself

or am I?

I’m scared of what’s behind it

what’s behind the one after that

and the one after that

so maybe I’m just playing

shadowboxing

after all

 

he’s not fighting for you, she says

over and over, so many ways

why can’t you just stop

fighting for someone who doesn’t

show up for you

why don’t you start

fighting for your future

something you can control

something you can win

 

I don’t tell her that as a child I always

imagined falling in love during some sort of war

couldn’t understand how I’d know I loved someone

if we couldn’t risk it all for each other

now the concept of survival for its own sake

baffles me

how could anyone want to live so badly

they’d fight through anything simply to breathe

what about me is so worth fighting for

that I’d be content living this life alone?

 

I’ve always told you I think

we can win

that I know we can

if we give it everything

together

I know you always wanted to believe me

while always fearing I was wrong

 

if you want to join me

I’ll be fighting anyway

you can find me facing off with the dark

she finds me curled up in the front seat

crying knees pulled up to chest

asking why over and over again in a voice

that’s not mine. she rescues me

by opening the door, holds me

until I say, at least I managed to drive first

which makes us both smile a little.

what I really want to say is–

I remember a million details about you

I wish I could share with someone

because I can’t share them with you.

your height and how it’s two inches above

average. the color of your old

tennis shoes, the hole–you have new ones now.

your favorite non-color and the color you think

it goes best with. your favorite

donut. favorite

popsicle. favorite

way the wind blows and the ground

feels under your bare feet.

these words were never meant

to stay inside me.

this body curled in the bed in the dark

was never meant to be alone.