Green Glass

Have you ever wanted to give everything you have to someone?

I’m talking, shirt off your back, smile off your face

the very time and place you learned love, and give it to them?

This person,

These forever people you want to give every laugh, every firework,

love note, and road trip to; your emotional will, I guess. They get it all.

Like, to Nina,

I would leave every giggle, every nighttime tea,

every sweet thought that might’ve gotten lost through translation,

I would leave an everlasting glow of your sweet sixteen, midnight sparklers that made you smile so big I thought your glasses would fall off.

I would leave you the most perfect parents

to tuck you in at night

have crazy dance parties with you

and hold onto you as tight as they can.

I would leave you (a) life outside of an orphanage.

To Sam, I would leave a million more days of camp because I know its your favorite place,

I’d leave you straight faces and jokes that take too long to tell,

every mathematical equation, “sleep well, tinker bell!”

“good night snow white”

“sleep good, robin hood”

that one summer when I knew I had come out of my shell

when I found myself at your window asking you to the prom and WELL

the main thing I’d leave is a thank you note for

every hug, and campfire, and piece of advice

Every praise to God for not getting head lice from the campers 3 summers in a row

Every inspiring word, (some unspoken),  and every broken smile that was flashed to

serve as a reminder that you’re still human.

And, to my Love,

I would leave every star,

would leave every squeal into my pillow,

every car ride home when I thanked God I’d finally found you.

a cup of coffee, the way I know you like it

our transcontinental laughs and our side-by-side tears

but only because they both belong to you.

I would leave you my secrets too

because you deserve them

because my memories are sun-dried and dying without you

and I’ve become this person who

finds remnants of strangers in her purse

wakes up with headaches and regrets

Usually in her own bed but not always

Sometimes stranded, with dry contact lenses

branded with hickeys and

wondering where the hell she is

I am not this person who

cries in yards at parties and shares her

bed with disinterested men

and I am so sorry

I don’t know where your love went

I’d leave her for you, if I could

I would leave you the language classes I never took

for the mother that would never look me in the eyes and say “welcome”

I’d leave you an apology

for every kiss that wasn’t planted in your garden, (pardon the metaphor)?

for every touch and sigh I lied to myself about wanting

For the arms that caught me that are still haunting me

I’m sorry

and I leave you these things not because I’m dying

but because we’re all dying if you really think about it and

not because I think you need them

but because I can’t need them

because it hurts me to need them

and I need you to take you fireworks and your green-glass eyes back because

you were my forever person but now I need to keep track of someone else