David. The first one.

There are plenty of things I will ask you to remember
Like that first hello when you awkwardly
Sat behind me and patiently waited for me to notice
I did... Notice
But I waited for you to tap my shoulder blade
So I could feel something besides the guilt
Yes
Is the only thing I have to give you
A thousand tiny heads all nodding in agreement
And a million tiny hearts dotting all the i's
When I say I will always keep this promise.
Promise me that you will never lose your innocence
Promise that even after I'm gone you will still believe
That every dream you've ever dreamed can come true
And that nerf guns don't stop being a valid accessory
When you've outgrown your teens.
Promise me
That every kiss meant something and you'll never forget
No matter what you think of me
Now
I'm slowly becoming a memory
A year-long escape from everything you knew
And I know I haven't decided if that's a good thing
And you're probably still on the fence
But this is what I do know:
what I hope is that you're dreaming at this very moment
And I hope, so selfishly, that you're dreaming of me.

if you see her
tell her there are dew drops
where she kissed me
Once.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Faisal

I can still see the stitches,
little tiny marks that remind me
of the first time we met
and the last time I felt guilt.
This is something true:
I waited in a hospital room
staring at the yellow parts
of my thumb
and hated myself for not
being able to text you back quickly.
I found out two weeks later
that wounds to the tips of
your fingers, on the pad of your thumbs
heal rather quickly.
I found out one year later
that hearts left at trains stations didnt.
I swear I can still see the sutures
and the tiny little holes
that you once kissed and blessed whole
even though i couldn't feel it
and I pretended, just like I do now.
It's funny.
I never thought about the dangers
of loving me, never though about
words being stepping stones
and turning into boulders,
softening into slurs.
We are more than what we've become.
I swear it.
We are stars, picked from the tiniest flames
and molded into something beautiful.
We are little white flags, tattooed and
scarred  and we are little tiny bumps on a page
so that even the blind can feel our shame
and our numbness.
We are tiny little stitches
on tiny little hands
with little white flags
waving surrender.

If you see her...

We carried guilt, folded up
And buried in our closet,
in the shoebox where we kept
Our letters, which were never
Signed 'love' because we
Never wanted to be that vulnerable
Or that taken for granted.
I kept your pictures folded
Into tiny little squares,
Inside a seashell, held up
To my breath like a bullhorn
Calling for last hope.
I tried to bury you..
But I always double back to
Sketch your gravestone and
Pretend you're not lost,
and pretend I'm not lost too.
The things we carried
Are hyphenated and split into
Poised corners of mistrust and
Remembrance, daring our
rigid lips to open up and
say something true.
Truthfully, I never wanted to need you
I never wanted to breathe you in
and use you as my balance beam
when nothing felt like Justice
I didn't want you to hold my hand
and tell me I would never stop writing
There were so many nights when I
drew the letters they laid on top of you
and hoped that they would
reassemble into something more
beautiful. They never did.
So now I carry this rugged note
that only says your name
over and over again
like I'm holding my breath
and dying to wish it true.