Behind the darkest clouds
The sun can still shine
You just have to embrace the storm
Dance in the rain
And scream with the thunder
Until it passes
And then you can lie in the sun

Us... With The Rest Of The Unfinished Poems
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a secret box on a high shelf in the locked closet of my mind
is where I keep my dreams of
me and you...
me
comfy living in your
too big shirt
you
bare chested and
doing what you do...

smiling softly in my direction
simmering gazes and
kisses in passing
while...  at our table
in our special space...
I quietly watch quiet you
and
write poems...

simple and hazy and softly lit dreams
of things that we will never do...
For me only...
in the treasured place of
my unfinished poems
and
my rhymes that don't rhyme
is where I keep
my dreams of
me and you

i was 14 days clean
before it happened again
i knew that i shouldnt
but i did it anyways

the pain has never fully left me
i dont believe it ever will
but this time
it might have been too deep

now i walk with a slight limp
cause it hurts to walk
and people
are starting to stare

ive got so many problems
so where do i start
ill just bathe in a pool of sorrow

ill do it tomorrow

mom said i'm spoiled
but i watched a spoiled girl cry
cause her mom sang her happy birthday
so am i really?

Okay, you think I'm pretty
But will you walk in rivers barefoot with me?
Will you just sit there in silence and pick flowers with me?
Will you be there even when I don't want to be anywhere?
Will you stay after you see what I've done to my ankles?
Will you dance in the rain with me?
Will you hold my hand when something reminds me?
Will you understand when I want to be alone?
Will you be okay with not being okay?
Will you love me even when I hate myself?

I know it's unrealistic
And that the books I read set the expectations high
But I can dream

My poetry is the result of an influx of thoughts.

My head can't hold them all,
So they spill out onto paper and soak and stain,
Leaving these tangled strings of words.

I try to arrange them to something comprehensive
But it's mostly an indecipherable nonsense.
I suppose thats what makes it poetry.

At least, it makes the mess in my brain
Just a bit more tangible.