fifth grade:

when i was in fifth grade

my class went to washington dc

and the other bus broke down

on the way home, so when 

it was my turn to sit with 

the boy i’d crushed on since

first grade (a boy i haven’t 

seen since fifth grade graduation 

when he told me to have a nice

life and i wanted to hug him 

and i’d like to believe he 

wanted to hug me too), it 

was late enough that the 

moon had danced out to 

watch him fall asleep 

on my shoulder and i 

remember being scared 

to move or even breathe

because i didn’t want to 

wake him up

pretty sure

when the only person who's told you you're 

beautiful is your own mother

you start to question whether you even

deserve that because you see,

i have never been pretty anything but pretty sure. 

pretty sure i’d be terrified if

someone turned to me from the driver's seat 

and said you look beautiful and

what would i do then? bleed out on the 

leather seats, put my hand down on the

center console and pray they take it because

i would cut off all my fingers for someone

to ask me to dance, but i'm not the type of 

girl that gets driven places. i'm the type of

girl who blasts taylor swift on backroads 

because i'm scared of highways and i'm scared

of parking lots and i'm scared of gas stations 

and i'm scared of not being enough and i'm

scared of being too much and 

i'm scared of falling in love 

without even realizing it 

for you

i’ve never driven you anywhere. i want you

to see the way i hum along to my music 

and the way i hold the steering wheel. 

i wish i was the age where it was still

acceptable for me to fall asleep in the

car and you would carry me home

you’ve always been good with words

so tell me how to tell you that i've 

been half in love with you for all my life