I’m the electricity powering the city lights that Boy and Girl see from a parking garage.
Boy and Girl love the view
They feel it within their soul
Boy says that he’s only ever gone there alone
And Girl finally recognizes how much she loves Boy
I’m the rain,
or the flowers,
or the airport attendant,
as Girl Runs Through The Airport To Reach Boy Before He Boards

See,
I love to love
And I do so with abandon and without condition
And so maybe that’s why
The only heart I ever seem to break
Is my own.

People like to tell me how they hurt
Why they hurt
Who they hurt
And I listen.
I listen like the moon listens to Romeo serenade Juliet
I hold my tongue better than the cat who caught it
Until the breaths I didn’t realize I was giving
catch in my chest
My lungs are shriveling
Shrinking like violets
Yet I part blue lips one last time
to give them everything.
Still,
I’m suffocating.
I’m suffocating for those half-genuine smiles
And the influx of clients as I am deemed the Best Therapist
And I am (sort of)
I was born to listen,
But I live to be heard.

And so maybe that’s why I write.
I write uninterrupted by agitating passions or moral conflict
I write so loud it’s like I’m screaming
I write as passionately as I love
I write to be heard.
Because it’s hard to be heard when you stand alone in a crowded street
Bodies against bodies
Voices against voices

I can see it now
My headstone:
Here Lies Girl
All-Too Loving Daughter and Friend
Died of Asphyxiation From Offering Breaths She Did Not Have.
May She Be Remembered Through Unfinished Love Poems.