February 4, 2013
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the names we used to call each other
out of fondness and giddy to be near
playfully punching your arm and then
leaning in for a kiss-
my lunatic
that was my favourite
you would tell me I was beautiful, then
you’re a lunatic
a lunatic I tell you
back and forth we’d go
a lunatic,
crazy for loving me,
walking snowy streets,
my inappropriate footwear filling with slush
as wind tangled our hair together
our hands in your pocket
in January
in Alaska
without any coats
we were lunatics
I with my plush body, wool sweaters, messy hair
and my jazzlisten mind that you never even tried to decipher
writing letters upside down, drinking coffee you hated
and loving my lunatic
and a lunatic for how you let me go
afraid to hurt me
afraid to love me
afraid you didn’t care
you didn’t realize I only cried for maybe an hour
missed you for maybe a day
I was a lunatic
for seeing so much in you
just wishful thinking
that there was more going on in your teenaged-boy head
than sex or being seen
such a lunatic
but it was alright
because so was I.

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Mckay This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jun. 13, 2013 at 5:43 pm
I think I'm at this stage, where I want to feel this way right now. I'm somewhat in this situation. Where someone says they love me, but my heart shut itself up. I finally found out that I have major MAJOR trust issues. Which I hope doesn't end what just started. I'm a lunatic like the speaker in the poem. I want to love and trust. But I haven't learned to tame the mistrust. I really really love this poem. Becuase it's relatable. And obviously well-written. And the emotio... (more »)
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