This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in these poems are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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First published in the US by St. Martin’s Griffin, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
First published in the UK by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
FIRST EDITION
© Lili Reinhart 2020
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
Cover illustration © Curt Montgomery 2020
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
Lili Reinhart asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780008365677
Ebook Edition © May 2020 ISBN: 9780008365684
Version 2020-06-10
To my nana, who always
loved my voice.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Acknowledgments
About the Publisher
I believe that we read poetry to relate to the world.
We see our lives through the words of a poet when we are incapable of expressing ourselves.
I started reading poetry as a way to comfort myself through spells of depression. Discovering poems that closely reflected the thoughts in my own head became reassuring in a time when I felt severely misunderstood.
It’s hard to imagine that anyone out there could possibly feel the same things that you do, to the depths that you feel them. Therein lies the beauty and surprise of poetry.
Once you see that someone understands your feelings, suddenly you’re not alone anymore.
I decided a little over a year ago that I wanted to share my own collection of poems in the hopes that they could bring comfort to whomever is looking for it.
The inspiration for this collection came from personal experiences as well as experiences that are not my own. Emotion can be explored and felt through the fabrication of a story, and some of these poems were crafted out of pure empathy for those around me.
Each one of us leads vastly different lives, and yet we can all relate to the fundamental feelings of happiness and sorrow.
I hope that you, the reader, can see yourself reflected in my words.
I can’t seem to write
perfect words
or make them flow as
they should.
They don’t sound
particularly profound.
I can’t paint you
pretty pictures
or blend colors like
other artists do.
My watercolors don’t
bleed beautifully.
But I can say I love you
in as many languages
as you need me to.
I can be fluent in
loving you.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a
moment to miss you,
and to cry.
This warm, summer breeze
on my balcony makes me think of
Cape Cod,
and your floral swimsuits.
How you never wore sunscreen but
always told us we had to.
Even in this loud city,
quiet moments exist where your
spirit is present.
And I feel like you’re sitting next to
me on the beach again.
So I’ll wait until the sun goes down
before I go back inside.
For now, we can sit here and listen
to the ocean.
“I love you, darling,” were the last words you said to me.
And although I don’t have a recording of it,
and although I forgot to save your voicemails,
I will never forget the sound of your voice.
I see you in every flower and every hummingbird
that happens to be near.
I’d like to think that it’s your spirit, just saying hello.
You surround me, always.
I miss you.
And I love you, too.