I've always known how to name my feelings. I've grown up in a home with people that have raised me to be very emotionally mature. I don't recall when it begun, but I feel like everything that I once thought I knew about my feelings, is slipping away. The way she looks at me. Her dark brown eyes make my heart beat in a way I can't comprehend. I know love. I'm very aware of that concept... but is this what it feels like? Helplessness? Weakness? I can't stand on my own two feet; when she twirls her hair, my knees buckle. Everytime I see her laugh and smile I can't help but mirror her, I smile and laugh, too; she unintentionally takes my free will. Love should make you feel strong. Love shouldn't make u feel weak... right? Maybe it's not love. Maybe. Maybe it is something else. It has to be. I can't be caught off guard. This is odd; I've always known how to name my feelings.

I am a China vase, so divine, Shattered to millions of pieces. And the question remains, Will I ever be reassembled? If so, will I ever be, Worth anything at all? Cracks trace a map of what you’ve held, Memories of vibrant flowers, Now ghosts of color linger, whispers, Of a life before the fall. But within the broken pieces, A resilience stirs, a hidden shine, Perhaps I’ll never be hole again, But I will be, One beautiful mosaic.

Him; Wonderful, brilliant. Dark eyes and hair. Funny, bright. A cute smile. Someone that any girl would be lucky to have. Stay strong, because you’re a man. Don’t tell her what you think. Don’t tell her how you hurt. Hide it, because she’s troubled. Hide it, because she’s hurting too. On the outside, we’re a perfect match. Holding hands, long gazes. Kiss him slow and watch them stare- at how our stars aligned. “Special.” “Happy.” “Lucky!” “Cute.” “Aww.” He’s everything I don’t deserve. He’s careful, patient. All I did was ruin him. I should’ve stayed away. My dark ways, my pain- Leaked onto him like ink spilled from the bottle. All I wanted to be was loved. .•.•.•.•.• Me; Aichmomaniac, psycho. Rude, horrible, traumatized. Golden brown hair- No smile. Someone that any boy- Would be petrified to have. There’s not much to say. You said it all. “I forgive you. I know what they did to you. It’s not your fault. They made you this way.” Disappeared and left for hours. You didn’t text, didn’t respond. I needed you- you weren’t there. When you promised me you would. Ouch… and it hurts so bad. But I’m use to wounds ripped open. I love the way it hurts, love the blood. I love the pain it gives me, how I smile. The adrenaline, the blades, the grin. I love it when you hurt me. I’ll always be me; insane… I’m twisted, far from good. I don’t get sad first, no, I get mad, you should know. Then I blow it off, dust from a box. I shrug, forget it. I go numb after I throw some. Friends call me insane. People stare on. Watch me burn- I won’t go alone. Afterall- We have a throne to rule.

Our hearts are made of stardust, But stars are fragile too, It’s constant beating and repeating relies not on me but you. My heart can’t handle the heat, And as stars eventually die, When you leave me, as I know you will, I’ll say my last goodbye.

do you have the same pain in your chest? is your doctor telling you you need rest? i’ve spent hours searching my symptoms online the results are conclusive my heart is no longer mine it took me five weeks to remember your face but cut me some slack you move with such grace this poem’s sat in my drafts for the past two weeks i would have finished it sooner but there are secrets i’d leak everything i write seems to be about you don’t call me delusional i know you feel it too i’m uncomfortable with the turn this is taking i’ve broken the fourth wall too much with this undertaking love makes fools out of us all though i’m not sure this is love but my god, you’re so tall perhaps this is childish a silly attraction but dear, isn’t it fun? to analyse our every interaction let me break through my screen once again to admit that i’m stressed i’m no longer ten the act of growing older takes its toll on us all i’m sure i’ve written those words before jesus, why am i rhyming again with all i’m sure this makes no sense can you tell i’ve had a rough day? but that doesn’t matter, dear because what i’m trying to say i like you a lot, this might be love but you’ll never read this so i hope you, dear reader, enjoy it because to produce this poem i’ve sent myself into a bit of a crisis

Leo “Y-You, what?,“ I stuttered, removing my hands from his shoulders. “I love you,” Israel snapped. “I’ve loved you since I first met you. You make me so fucking happy, Leo! Your the reason I’m gay. And I know that you could never love me the same way, but here I am, telling you anyway.” How could I be so naive? Now it all made so much sense! When he walked up to me in the lobby, talking on the roof all those nights, him constantly staring at me.l, when he was so mad about Olivia asking me out. And don’t even get me started on Israel’s constant need to protect me. “Israel, I-,” I started. “Please, just reject me already so I we can just move past this,” Israel begged, his black eyes melting into mine. “No, Israel-.” “Leo, just say ‘no’ already,” he insisted. I wanted to tell Israel how much I loved him, how I wouldn’t reject him, how he meant the world to me. But that would work, not with this persistent attitude. Before I could even have another thought, I made the bipolar decision to stand on my tippy toes and gingerly kiss Israel’s lips. It wasn’t a romantic kiss. It was brief and not long lived, but I sent my heart rate through the roof. When I pulled away, Israel’s face was brighter than a cherry. “I-I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I just didn’t know any other way to tell you that I do love you. A lot, actually. And, well, you make me so fucking happy too.” Israel seemed as if he was about to have a heart attack. “Y-Your serious,” he asked. “Like, your not just doing this to make me feel better or make me happy?” That’s when I slapped Israel across the face, jolting him to the side “OW!,” he cried, placing his hand on his even redder cheek. “WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?” I glared at him in an annoying manner. “To snap you out of whatever’s going on of here!,” I shot back. “Listen, I love you. I really do. If I didn’t, I would be completely honest and blunt about it.” Israel stared at me for a moment, then smiled. “You are something else, Leo Astelli,” he muttered happily, shaking his head. I shrugged. “Yeah, I know,” I replied, a very sim smile on my face. Israel’s wide smile grew even brighter. “God I love you,” he whispered. “It feels good to say it, you know?” I shook my head. “It does feel good,” I agreed. And in that moment, that moment, everything seemed perfect. Israel loved me, I loved him, those gorgeous black eyes melted into mine. And from that day forward, I knew that everything would be alright as long as I was with Israel.

Leo Ding, ding, ding! Finally, the bell rang, interrupted my geometry teacher, Mr. Mendoza’s, lesson on all of the major geometric formulas. Quickly, I grabbed the notebook that had been given to me by Mr. Mendoza and walked towards the door, being pushed by other kids. Once I was out of the small door frame and the flood of students had moved on elsewhere, I made an attempt to find Israel. I stood on my toes, giving me an extra inch in height, but everyone else was by far taller than me. One boy to my right scoffed. “Can’t see, short ass?,” he asked, his friends snickering behind him. I rolled my eyes, as if it didn’t bother me. But being 5,5 since the 6th grade and not growing any, I tended to be made fun of quite a lot. And it became really hurtful. But I must give that guy credit. I had never heard “short ass” before. Ignoring his comment, I attempted to maneuver my way through the crowd. I glanced nervously around. No sign of Israel. I silent slid past more and more people as I desperately searched for my friend. After going down all 3 major hallways, dread started to creep in. Did Israel lie to me? I mean, he’s probably already in his class. He didn’t want to be with me, better yet around me. He probably didn’t even want to be my friend. He must have lied about that. He probably doesn’t even like me and was trying to make me happy. He left me. Why did this always happen? I’m happy, then someone comes in, leaves me, and screws up my happiness. And for the first time, THE FIRST TIME, I fall in love, i get lied to and he leaves me. Such luck. Angrily, I clenched my fists. Whatever. I can do this. I’ll be fine without that lying son of a bitch…yeah, I can survive my first day of high school without the hottest and sweetest and kindest boy on the face of the planet. Yeah, I’ll be fine. • • • • • “How was your first day of school, Leo?,” my mom asked the second I walked through the door as she sat, reading her book on the couch. Okay, let’s see. First, that lying scum bag’s (Israel Niccolo Gonzalez) ex friend, the 2005 bitch (Olivia Sanders) asked my out. Then the bitch was punched the scum bag. Next, Israel lies to me. School was extremely boring. And, oh yeah, a car sprayed nasty sewer water all over me. “It was good,” I replied, then walked off to my room. Quickly, I changed into my other pair of black cargo pants and. a baggy shirt that had the Italian flag on it. To be honest, I would rather be anywhere else but my house, because Amari was going to bug me about my day, my mom would make me help with dinner, and Stella…well, Stella would be Stella. So, I went to the only other place I could think of: the roof. And if I was lucky, Israel wouldn’t be there. • • • • • I was not lucky. The second the large, metal elevator doors opened, I saw him, sitting gorgeously on the concrete with a large piece if paper in front of him. Quickly, I pressed the down button aggressively multiple times. Unfortunately, Israel turned around and saw me. A beautiful smile broke onto his face. “Leo!,” he called, stumbling as he tried to stand up. I continue to press the button. I thought I was safe, but Israel jogged over and put his foot in between the doors, causing them to retract and go back to their normal position. “Oh my god, how was your first day of school?,” he asked, giving of golden retriever vibes. I clenched my fist. “You,” I growled, poking his chest. Israel stumbled backwards. I followed, continuing to point my index finger angrily at him. “You *left* me,” I hissed. “You lied to me and left me, you son of bitch. I thought that we were friends.” Israel’s expression flooded with pain and sorrow. “Oh,” he whispered. “Leo, if you would let me explain-.” I cut him of aggressively. “No!,” I cried. “Don’t even try to come up with some *stupid* excuse! I have heard them all, Israel Gonzalez. You should have just said you didn’t want to be friends in the first place!” Israel shook his head. “No, Leo-.” “STOP!,” I yelled, throwing my hands the air, a single tear rolling down my cheek. “JUST STOP!” Israel’s eyes seemed to fill up with tears. “Leo, my father sent me home because of my nose,” he whispered. “Leonard Octavian Astelli, I would never, and I mean *never* lie to you. Or leave you. Leo, I-.“ He stopped suddenly. My curiosity shored. “I what, Israel?,” I asked, my voice calmer. Israel shook his head. I grabbed his shoulders with my hands so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were bruised. “Israel Niccolo Gonzalez, tell me,” I demand, my hands still firmly gripped his shoulders. Israel pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “I love you, Leo.”

Israel “I am fine!,” I insisted. “Really, Flores, I’m fine!” Flores rolled her eyes. “Israel, you have a broken nose,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “And don’t call me Flores.” “Okay, Mrs. Gorski, or should I call you doctor?,” I sneered. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to send you home,” she replied, then motioning for the door. “But my friend needs me here!,” I begged. Flores’ eyes hardened. “Go wait in your father’s office Israel,” Flores mumbled. “I have other people to see and I don’t have time for your begging.” Is she for real? Aggressively, i propelled myself off the table and then stormed out of Flores’ office, slamming the door behind me. “I can’t go home,” I muttered as I walked down the hallway, past several kids, probably all older than me. “I can’t! I cannot and will not leave Leo here!” Finally, after a little bit of walking, I reached a bland wooden door close to the end of the main hallway. In an agitated manner, I violently opened the door to my father’s office, then slamming it behind me. Suddenly, my father spun around in his chair, his black and grey hair shining in the artificial light and his black eyes hard with zero emotion. “I would prefer if you didn’t break the door,” he informed. “It’s relatively new, and if you break it, I’ll take money from your college account to fix it. But by all means, please sit.” Angrily, I flopped down into the leather cushioned chair in front of my father’s hand carved and intricate desk. “So, why are you so upset you’ve resorted to door abuse?,” my dad asked sarcastically. “Flores wanted to send me home!,” I cried in despair. My father’s expression remained unchanged. “That’s Mrs. Gorski to you, Israel,” he corrected. “And why don’t you want to go home?” “Because I don’t want to leave my friend,” I said simply. “He’s new, and he also lives in the apartment complex, and he’s super sweet and I can’t leave him alone.” My father’s eyes softened slightly, almost to the point of slight panic. “I assume your talking about Leo Astelli,” my father filled in. “Yes and-, wait, how did you know?,” I asked, suspicion rising. My father gave me an agitated look. “Israel, I feel like you forget that I run this school and I know practically everyone here,” he muttered. “And…well,never mind.” Suspicion level still rising. “Dad, what we’re you gonna say?,” I questioned. “Nothing,” he said bitterly, telling me to drop it. “And Israel, you have a broken nose. That needs a little more immediate attention. I’m sorry, but I’m calling your mom.” I groaned. “Dad, please,” I begged. My father ignored me, instead, picking up his cellphone and dialing my mother’s number. I sighed, leaning back in the chair. Now what? What if Leo thinks that I left him? Or that I don’t care about him? What if he doesn’t want to be friends? What if…My thought process was cut short when a soft knock came from the door. “Come in,” my father muttered as he filed through papers. When the door opened, my stepdad, Asher, who was around the age of 40 with soft blonde hair that hung over his forehead and kind, ocean blue eyes walked in. My father dropped the papers onto his desk. “Oh, hi Asher,” my father said cheerfully. “I’m so sorry you have to pick up Israel again.” Considering how Asher married my dad’s ex wife, they seemed to be in good terms, friends, you could say. Asher shrugged insignificantly. “It’s no big deal,” he replied, his voice equally cheerful. “Amanda’s caught at work…*again*, but it’s really no trouble.” My father nodded slowly, seeming to get lost in thought, then shook his head. “Anyway, just rest up Israel,” my father instructed, glaring at me. I raised my hands up in defense. “Yes sir, yes sir,” I replied assuring. My father gruffly nodded. I stood up and walked towards Asher. “Well, have a good day Gordon,” Asher murmured. “You too Asher,” my dad replied, turning back to the papers on his desk. Asher let out a sigh, then walked out the door and I quickly followed behind him. • • • • • “So how’d you get a broken nose?,” Asher asked as he was driving towards our apartment complex. For a split second, I hesitated. I mean, I liked Asher. He was cool for a stepdad. But i still didn’t trust him completely. Finally, I sighed and told him all about Leo, how Olivia punched me, and anything else up to the present. When I was done, Asher was silent, staring out the front window of his car. I didn’t think he would reply, but he sighed and gave me a reply. “This is advice, and you can take it or leave it, but if I were you, I would get back at her,” he advised. “Not along the lines of violence. But something mentally or socially. What she did Israel was dirty and over the line. So the only way to get back at her is to play dirty and cross the line.” It took me a minute for those words to sink in. My peaceful, quiet, and serene stepdad, telling me to seek rw yon my past friend? My trust bar just went up. “Oh,” I muttered evilly. “Get back at her.” Asher nodded. “Just don’t tell your mother I gave you that advice,” he put in quickly. I laughed a little. “Got it,” I replied, still giggling to myself. For the rest of the ride, the two of us were silent. But revenge on Olivia was heavy topic. I loved the idea. It absolutely fascinated me. And slowly, very slowly, a shallow and humiliating idea sunk into my mind. It was good, no, great. But I would need some help. And in the end, it would be far from worth it.

Leo My heart ached for Israel. For the majority of my life, I myself had struggled with friendships. But Israel…he had it so much worse. “I-,” I began. There weren’t any words for how sorry I truly was, no way to describe it. Israel didn’t deserve that. “I am so, *so* sorry Israel,” I said at last. It wasn’t enough, but at least he knew that I cared and that I was sorry for the pain he experienced. Israel looked up at me with a mix of sorrow and gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you Leo,” he whispered. “But it doesn’t matter. The past is the past and I can’t change it. If I could, i would in a heartbeat. And I’m not saying I might ever be able to forgive Olivia, well, especially after this.” Israel pointed to his nose. “But, at least I have you, and I hope that you’ll never leave me.” I stared at Israel with a blank face. “Israel, I would never, and I mean, *never* leave you,” I assured demandingly. I wanted add how I loved him, how I loved being with him, how he meant more to me than anyone else. Suddenly, the officer who had broken up the “fight” jogged over. “Okay,” she panted. “I think…that everything is under control. But Israel…before you go to class, I would suggest that you go…to the nurse.” Israel shook his head defiantly. “No,” he said simply. “I’ll go see the nurse *after* I make sure that Leo finds his class and everything.” The officer looked at Israel with a puzzled expression. “But Israel, I can show Leo,” she assured. “You need to have your nose checked out.” I glanced over at Israel’s nose. It seemed to be darker than his regular pale skin tone and dry blood coated his lower lip and around his nose. Again, Israel shook his. “I want to do it,” he insisted. “Leo is more important than some stupid injury.” At his words, my face flooded with heat and color. My heart fluttered with joy and happiness. I doubt he meant it, but it still made me feel important, like I was loved. The officer gave Israel a deflated look, then sighed. “You are something else Gonzalez,” she muttered. “Fine. Take your friend to class, *then* go to the nurse.” Israel slyly smiled. “Thanks Lila,” he replied appreciatively, then grabbed my wrist. Another wave of heat washed over my face as Israel led me down the hallway. “So, do you know what your first class is?,” Israel asked once we were a little ways-away from Officer Lila. I searched my memory for a recollection of my first class. “I think it’s Geometry,” I said. Israel nodded. I glanced down at my wrist. Israel’s hand was still firmly grasped around it. Slowly, Israel looked down as well, stopping. He pressed his lips together, then quickly let go. “Uhh, yeah, sorry about that,” he muttered. Without thinking, I slipped my hand into his, gripping it tightly. I didn’t know if it was the blood or nervousness, but Israel’s face turned bright red. He was silent for a moment, but then shook his head. “Come on,” he murmured, leading me forward. A couple minutes later, we had arrived in front of my supposed Geometry class. “Leo, are you gonna be okay?,” Israel asked. I glanced over at him and gave him sly smile. “I’m smarter and tougher than I look,” I replied. “I’ll be fine.” Israel nervous expression didn’t waver. “Are you sure?,” he demanded. “Yes, I’ll be fine!,” I cried. “You don’t have to be so worried.” Israel pressed his lips together. “Okay,” he muttered, slowly pulling his hand away and then started to walk away. I was about to reach out for the door, but Israel’s voice stopped me. “Hey Leo?,” he asked. I turned toward him. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me. I was taken aback for a moment, my hands stiff at my side and my brain on overload. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around Israel’s waist. When he finally let go, he looked me in my eyes. “Find me after your first period, okay?,” he asked, unassured. I nodded slowly. Israel copied my movement, then walked off, his hands stuffed into his leather jacket.

Israel It was December. I was probably 5 years old, at least. When my mother heard about new neighbors, well…she’s a extrovert, so she did her “extrovert thing”, as my dad called it. So, my mother dragged me and my older sister, Cassandra next door. I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. My mother had told me that the family had a kid about my age. I didn’t have friends. I didn’t want friends. But there I was. Standing in front of the door, hidden behind Cassandra, who was 12 at the time. When the door opened, it revealed a tall man with dirty blonde hair, a hat from the 40’s, and scary blue eyes, almost the color of ice. Behind him was girl…my age, with perfect blonde hair and the same scary eyes as her dad. It was that moment when our eyes met. When something…grew between us. “Umm, hi,” I whispered to the girl. She gave me a half-hearted smile. “Hi,” she whispered back. “What’s your name?” I smiled back at her. “Israel Gonzalez,” I replied in a low voice. “Who are you?” “I’m Olivia Sanders.” • • • • • As the years went by, we became close. No, more then close. We were practically inseparable. Like Robin and Batman, Rizzoli and Isles, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. The best of friends. It seemed to be perfect, just us. And we liked it that way. Well, at least I did. As me and Olivia got older, she would always stare at other girls with wanting. “Why can’t we sit with other people Israel?,” she asked at lunch one day in the 7th grade. “Wouldn’t it be nice, not just you and me? Alone, all the time?” “But…don’t you like it?,” I questioned insecurely. Olivia shrugged. “I do, but what would it be like, with other people?” She never brought it up again, but the question lingered. A few months later, Olivia’s dad received a new job, one that would require the two to move towards downtown. The night that they had to move, I managed to put on a brave face for Olivia. I could tell that it was hard on her, so I acted brave. But the second they left, I ran to my room and cried. And cried. I cried for what seemed all night. It was too much. Olivia was my best friend. She was my only friend. We did everything together. Now what? We wouldn’t live next door anymore. For a 13 year old with only one friend, it seemed like the end of the world. And for our friendship, it was • • • • • After Olivia moved, she distanced herself from me. She tried out for cheerleading, although we would always make fun of the them. She started to hang out with basketball players and popular kids. She seemed to be a million miles away. And what made it worse was how it seemed so…easy for her to leave me. To forget about me. Leaving me alone to sit by myself. • • • • • It was finally out last year in middle school. By then , I had become accustomed to being by myself. It became somewhat of a lifestyle, really. And I had the joy of going to high school the next year. But half way through the school year, my whole world was flipped upside down. In January, I heard that Olivia had a boyfriend. At first, I wasn’t concerned. Olivia moved on and I was fine with that. But then I heard who it was. Samual Lopez. The exact same person who me and Olivia would constantly teases about how he changed girlfriends more than underwear. The same person I knew would break Olivia’s heart. And that could not, and would not happen. • • • • • “Olivia!,” I called on the way out of school that day. Quickly, she turned around. When her eyes met mine, a look of confusion appeared on her face. “Oh, umm, hey Israel,” she replied politely. “Cut the crap, why are you dating Lopez?,” I demanded. Her face went white. “Oh, you heard,” she muttered in a whisper. “Israel, it’s not a big deal.” “Yeah, it kinda is!,” i snapped. “You are dating the guy who I could bet my life will break your heart in a month.” Olivia crossed her arms. “Israel, it’s not in your jurisdiction to dictate who I date or not,” she shot back. “It kinda is, because I used to be your friend, and I don’t want to see you to get hurt!,” I cried in despair. “Well, we aren’t friends anymore, are we?,” Olivia asked demandingly. “And frankly, your being to sensitive about this. You’ve always been this way. Israel, I’ve found other people. You need to understand that I don’t need you anymore!” I don’t need you anymore. Those were the most painful words I ever had to hear. It would have been better if she had just slapped me across the face. “Oh,” I sneered. “That’s how it is. I’m just a piece of a garbage, isn’t that right? I mean, you said it. You don’t need me.” Olivia’s eyes widened in terror and sadness. “No, Israel, I-,” she started. “No, no, you meant it, I know,” I mumbled angrily. And with that, I stormed off towards the streets of Chicago.