You are so lucky 
I thought 
Walking past a broken down car
In a turn lane

People asked 
Where are you going to live now?
and I just stared 

I drive away at 5am
it is darker than it’s ever been
The tears fall 
For the screams we heard in our backyards 
For Photo albums and guitars and baby dolls and family heirlooms that never stood a chance 
For every tree that couldn’t bend with the wind
For childhood innocence and passion projects that were violently carried away 
For the accountability that will never be held

I am driving with Asheville in my rearview mirror  
Knowing I’m not really capable of leaving

Because home is still home
Even if home only exists within oneself 

When everything washes away I wonder…what is left but the contents of our hearts? 
Will love and empathy and all our Sunday school values be enough to nourish our bodies? To rebuild the bridges and roads? Can it restore our power and purify our water?
I don’t know. 

To me, you are summer.

Watermelon streaks on my face and shirt
Tears that I cannot hide 

You hold my heart in your hands
This is how we take care of each other
You say.

You are a secret swimming hole,	
	The best goodwill find,
	 A roadside fruit stand
	A never-ending phone call
            A Waffle House all star breakfast
	Bottom shelf tequila
	But only because you insist on it

With you
I am undone but I am loved.
I am tired but never hungry.

We are two sets of brown eyes
The same freckles on our cheeks
That darken in the sun

We are arms and legs
On a red couch 
Covered in layers of blanket

We are regrets and histories
And transplants

We are  laughter that echoes
In every direction

To me, you are a home away from home.

Our elbows are sticking to the table
At a restaurant with 3.5 stars on yelp 

I know this moment
Memorized it even

When the doves become pigeons
The flowers turn to weeds
And SURPRISE
the brownies have beets in them

You are not
That guy in the Disney Channel movie
With that haircut

And to your dismay
I’m not Jennifer Lawrence

And don’t worry
I definitely won’t be breaking out in song
With a rousing rendition 
Of "Send in the Clowns" 

We dab at our red wine stains
On our laundry day shirts

No magic or glitter
No fireworks

At least
I can laugh about it

The waiter hands us the reality check
I guess we’ll split it

I don’t want to love until it burns
I don’t want to win the marathon
And exit swiftly to the emergency room
Retire and die the next day

No, that’s not how I intend to love

When I love you
When I really love you
I want to collapse somewhere soft
Tired of hair-pulling and lipstick I hate
Tired of dropped phone calls

Falling so softly
I would have hit the floor 
Had you not realized
How fragile I can be
You dove with your arms out

I want to be seen in the dark
To be heard when my voice is too hoarse to speak
To be felt when I’m miles away

I wish they’d study me 
The way academics dedicate their lives
To texts and letters

They’d follow evidential dead ends and dovetails
Through their frustrations and victories,
They’d conclude their cause is still noble

I fear sometimes
That is the only way
To understand what’s in my heart

And on that fateful day
When they’ve finally published their findings
I’ll eagerly hand them to my lovers

“Here, I’ll say. Everything you could possibly need to know is here.”

They’ll pinpoint the exact cause of my tears
The meanings of facial expressions that betray my words
They’ll describe the very day that I cut my hair
And saw someone entirely new in the mirror
They will show every crack and crevice
But as a feature rather than a flaw

They’ll do what songwriters and poets could never do.

Sometimes I really do wish for that.

But at other times

I want the stepping on toes
The tripping and stumbling
The accidents
The surprises
The unfamiliarity
Even to be scared

And then
The recovering
The process
Dusting things off
Sweeping up the glass 
Gluing pieces back together

I want to be messy
Because I am 
Because you are

We won’t be the same tomorrow as we were today
Or next week
Or next year

So I won’t love you until it burns
But I would love you with a botched haircut
And a shirt color that’s questionable at best
I will love you when we accidentally cut each other off
I will love you when we have to settle on disappointment for dinner
I will love you when the punchline doesn’t land

I will love you even when there’s no possible way to fully understand one another
And I will love you when all we have to offer the other are sleep eyes
And a hand to hold.

I
Will love you then.

The faces of the strangers around me
Blur together
Except for the guitarist

I am wearing your stupid shirt
And I let the room spin
I let the bartender take advantage
Of my sorrow

I am listening to a song
That I know all of the words to
I am proving to myself
Just how fun I am
Without you by my side

Trying to forget the things I did
When I felt weak
The men I let occupy space in my head
			          in my bed
The times I drank myself to sleep
The bathroom floors I cried on
The tiny little faded scars

Because if I can let go of that

Then maybe I’m not:
The 28 year old who failed you
The apologetic antagonist
The cautionary tale

Maybe
I am a country music stereotype
I am the witty heroine
In someone’s coming-of-age novel
And I am brave enough to request
The song that Jackson wrote

Maybe I am someone worth fighting for
Even if I am the one fighting for myself