to fight each other for each other

"i know- i've known for a long time- that you don't like poetry, and you don't like meanings in things,"
i remembered telling him that shakespeare was overrated and i liked my own poetry better.
"i don't know if its just because of how you are," i paused here, "or because of how you were raised, or because you're a boy, but it just doesn't compute. i get that."
"what is it?"
emotion-
feelings-
i couldn't find the right word,
"sentiment." i hoped to god that this was right.


       he never really meant to hurt me.
       it was always accidental, i just-
       i feel too much, i just get so caught up,
       i needed something like this so much.
       i've never seen him cry;
       no tears and no red eyes, just
       sky-colored clues and
       evidence i already have.

i don't know why i speak half the time.


"what song were you singing?" he asked.
"youth, by glass animals. also on the list." something you should know already, i thought.
"i put that on there because i thought you would like it. i made this list for you, so you could find release and escape. that's what you wanted, isn't it? i found things i thought you would like, i organized them for you to listen to, i put it all together for you. they're all things that you need to hear. i thought you could use them."


       i gave them all to him.
       all of them, they are his now.
       he owns the title aquarian,
       his aura is on every song i love,
       he takes up space, but he doesn't waste it.

       i thought.

       he's playing chutes-and-ladders with his pedestal,
       mostly down (on his luck). he's
       just another human being, i can't
       do this to him, i don't think he'd let me. but i'm realizing
       that i've never had this before, i give but
       he doesn't take. we share.
       he takes up space, but he doesn't waste it.


"you deserve to be treated like a king and a god," i shoved out of my lips. my eyes were racing across the popcorn ceiling, as if looking for some words to tell him. i could feel my eyebrows knitting up together in confused determination, my breathing quickened, i was about to fall into the pit of where my poetry comes from and i just couldn't do that because if i did, there would be no getting those words back down on paper. they'd be his forever. he had said something about how he knows, he knows, what i do and he realizes all the meaning and effort and i put into things about him and things in general. i understood it, but my insides were shaking. he had been complimenting me all evening, its almost tomorrow and i'm scared that this is just the night talking.


       what if he'd never tell me this in the light of day,
       what if these are starlight secrets that he's only confessing to
       because he thinks i'm attention seeking?
       oh honey, daylight-me is the pretty lie
       and what you see now is the ugly truth.

       but when the truth is pretty,
       kiss it like those lips are air and you can't breathe.


"mmhm." he kept- he kept changing the subject.
"don't 'mmhm' me! don't give me that sarcastic 'mmhm'!" i said. and then i didn't know what else to say.
"i've said it a million times in poems: make demands of me. you've earned it. you have all this power over me, but no one i give that power to ever seems to understand that. and recently, i realized that you might make demands that i don't like, but i thought, 'he's my best friend, i love him, and i'd do anything for him.'"
i just spoke. i spoke and another tenet of my poetry came out.


       this was unplanned, and maybe that's why it went so well.
       but it feels like i just ran my mouth; only now did i stop and think
       of what he's feeling. (what i made him feel. ooh, gives me chills.)
       he had me open, raw, and honest. just devour me, you already
       have all my mind and soul.


"you know i love you, right."
"i love you too."
there was silence between us. even the static was too stunned to speak.

"goodnight, namesake."
"good night."