Remember When?

Booze, buzz, and sticky floors

You love me but I love you more

Dressed up like the adults we pretend to be,

But we’re just children, you and me.

Darkened room and tortured heat

The last thing I want is to admit defeat 

You say you can’t, so I say I will

That’s what you do for love, yourself you kill

Tiny buttons and silver doors

Who would’ve known what was in store?
I loved you most, that I know

Because it were you, you wouldn’t have let me go.

We had so much more of us ahead,

At least the next four is what you said.

But then you realized that we weren’t that strong,

That a love like this couldn’t last that long

We built a life we thought we’d live together

Silly us, to even think of believing in forever

Now we know to take a closer look

Reality: It never happens like it does in the books.

You were my prince, I thought you knew

But even that was never good enough for you.

You never stopped to think or even second guess

What would become of such a mess.

I thought I lost my lifelong friend,

But you were just a lesson to be learned—a generous lend

And now I’m just left to pretend 

That you are more than just a “Remember when?”

The Next Time Around

Maybe it’ll be better the next time around.

Because we’ll have grown into the people were were destined to be—- it’ll be so deeply rooted in our souls that even the strongest wind won’t be able to shake it.

And we’ll have grown into our skin and known what it’s like to fit into it perfectly, all on our own, without having to feel like we’re missing a limb whenever we’re apart.

And we’ll have known what it’s like to breathe without our lungs intertwined in our chests and our legs in the sheets and for the first time we will breathe fresh air that is not polluted by toxic love.

And we’ll have seen ourselves in the mirror for who we really are, and stared at reflections that are only ours, not yours and mine or mine and yours.

We’ll be whole, and we’ll be ready, and we’ll be better.

Because we must find peace as two before we can find peace as one.

At least that’s what I’d like to believe about the next time around. 

Maybe

We were the best

Because feet freak me out a lot

And you always made sure to have socks on when we went to bed

Maybe.

We were the best

Because sometimes you forgot to eat breakfast

And I knew that anything and chocolate milk was the way to go

Maybe.

We were the best

Because at night when I cried about the little things

You were there to cup my face and wipe my eyes

Maybe.

We were the best

Because I couldn’t swim to save my life

And you were all but a fish, and a fighter one, at that

Maybe. 

We were the best

Because biology just never made sense to me

And you had a strange love for science that I’ll never understand

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because I don’t know a single country song

And you’re well on your way to becoming the next country star

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because New York City makes you nervous

And I was born in the heart of its busy streets

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because you know you want to go to medical school

And I know that four years is a very, very long time

Maybe. 

It was for the best

Because we both love sleep way too much

And can never get up earlier than noon on any given Sunday

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because you insisted on growing out your beard

And it tickled every time we kissed

Maybe.

It was for the best

Because you hate it when people talk during movies

And I have too many questions spinning around in my mind to keep quiet

But maybe we were the best

And all these bullshit excuses

Are just a way to make it out to ourselves

That maybe, just maybe, it really was for the best

The Problem with Naming Your Theoretical Children on a Drunken Friday Night

The problem with naming your theoretical children on a drunken Friday night isn't that they might not be pretty enough, or that you might not remember how to spell them right on their birth certificates when the time comes, or even that they might be in the Top 5 Most Common Baby Names in America. It's that now, you have full responsibility over those little named rascals, because before, they were just this idea, this possibility, and now, they're the real deal: all six of them. 

And now you both have to pick favorites, and sides, and decide the colors of their bedroom walls and who has to sleep in the same room as who. And who's going to get up at 3am tonight to feed them because you did it last night and he promised, but he's really tired from work and says he'll make up for it tomorrow night. And whether Phil is going to play football like his uncle or swim like his dad, and whether Becca is going to do ballet like she wants to or gymnastics like all the other girls at school. My loves, do what you love because nothing else will make you happier: not money, not fame, not anything at all.

And now you have to teach them how to share and say please and thank you, and that it's not okay to eat in church, but here's a bag of Cheerios Kate, sweetheart, just please stay quiet for the next hour or so, and Matt, please stop pulling on your sister's hair. And how you can only have cookies from the cookie jar after dinner, and even then you can only have one. And how 5 x 2 is 10 but 5 to the power of 2 is a whole 'nother thing, which is 25 by the way. But don't be too hard on yourself, because mistakes are okay and you are so much more than just a test grade.

And before you know it they'll be falling in love just like you two did on an elevator that first day of college way back when, and suddenly they'll be saying they don't need you anymore. And here come the dates and the curfews and the tears-- oh, the tears! And Addie swears she'll never find anyone ever again but honey you will, I promise you, you will, just give it some time.

And then before you know it they'll be getting  married and you'll be giving them away, and then it'll just be you two again. Because everyone has moved to other states to start lives of their own and you'll just be those old folks in some picture frames in their living rooms. And you'll be sitting on the back porch on a Sunday evening watching the sunset with a couple of drinks in hand, thinking to yourselves, "When did this all happen?"

And then you'll remember it was when you decided to name your theoretical children on a drunken Friday night, just the two of you alone in the dark, in your poster-filled dorm room. It was when you were wondering if you'd had too much to drink or if the warm feeling inside your chest was because of the way he was looking at you. It was when he said he loved you for the first time and you believed him, and oh sweetheart, it's okay that you did; I would have too. It was when you didn't know better because you're still learning, still growing, still hurting; but I promise you dear, it's why you're here.