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this is about the girl who drowned in fate.
the rain came down and she danced
but one missed step
brought her to her knees,
begging forgiveness from a god she didn't believe in.
this is about the boy who loved the stars.
he could feel the echo of their loneliness
inside of his bones
and thought it was
his own.
this is about you.
the one who fought.
the one who lived to tell.
the one who gave me hope.
 Sep 2013 Life's a Beach
ASB
I wrote a lot of poems
about a lot of people
and many of those poems
mentioned love.

but I like to think that you're
the one who'll read them when
you're eighty, sitting beside
me in your chair.

I like to imagine your hair
as it turns grey,
your frown lines and wrinkles
of your smiles and your worries
and the sound of your laugh
that has not changed with the years,
and the way you'd wipe away my tears
of both pain and joy.

I like to think of rings and kisses
and your hands on mine,
of you asleep next to me on
winter nights, of newspapers
and car rides and Christmasses
and all those things that make
a life together.


I wrote a lot of poems
about a lot of people
and many of those poems
mentioned love,


but I like to think my best ones
are about you.
 Sep 2013 Life's a Beach
abysmal
Waking up next to you is scary.

And before your vehement self-loathing causes you to interpret this as an insult; I'll explain what I mean as best as I can.

I'm scared because I always wake up before you; and I know that all I'll want to do is watch you.
That's dangerous because it only makes me love you more.
The way you heavily breathe through your mouth as a result of a congested nose, the way the relaxing and contracting of your intercostal muscles cause your small body to bounce up and down in a perfectly rythmatic manner. The way your heartbeat fills the entire room. So much so that I have to susurrate the bed sheets to mask the sound so my unforgetting heart doesn't fall any deeper into the enigma that is you.

Then you wake up.

You look at me with disoriented green eyes and matted brown hair and smile. You smile at me exactly the same way I've been smiling at you for the past ten minutes.

It's scary

Because by that point the clamorous sound of your heart beat is quickly replaced by mine. Sometimes I'm scared that you'll hear it. And you'll know.
 Sep 2013 Life's a Beach
R
when he said, "this is
my note, after all, thats
what people do, right?
leave a note?" my heart
completely caved
      >     in.    <

when my teacher said
that a lot of people
commit suicide due to
bullying or because they
feel unaccepted,
i raised my hand to
speak up about the
facts.


the true facts.

how more than half of the
homeless teenage population
are gay. they were kicked out
by their mums and dads.

how its not just the
bullying, how its
them too.

they feel so alone and
we always wonder why
there is a new name in
the paper saying,
"Suicide--Age --"
and yet because of
someone being p    u s h  e       d
to                                                      far

it made them take
their own life.

i wish i could stop
suicides,
i wish for once
i could be the one who
closed the door on
death.

but im no rolemodel,
i always let death
back in.

but that doesnt mean i
wont help you take
him out.
if you ever need someone to talk to, please please please dont hesitate to either talk to me or one of the other HP members. call a hotline or call your friends. write it down, talk to someone. 1-800-273-8255 heres the suicide hotline. please, if you need it, use it.
I bought a rose for every night not spent with you.
Now I'm drowning in petals and thorns.
I want you to give me bruises around my neck,
so that i can put you behind fear.
I hold your music in my hands,
the notes falling off each page,
i don't feel the music like I used to with you.
Eyes burning, face burning,
waking up with Kleenexes underneath my fragile body.
Paper filled with tears to hold.
Warmth in your smiles,
hatred in your eyes,
rage in your hands.
I file our disturbing memories.
This is not a home but a psych ward,
the only protection is a lock on my door.
I didn't give you permission to stroke me,
to rip me from my pride,
to destroy my only innocence.
The flowers around the house begin to die slowly,
they smell the yelling and the throwing.
A girl weeping in a corner, a memory of my recent past.
I wish I could go back to ignorance,
when all I knew was the word "light".
I don't want to hold things in anymore,
i want to let my words spill all out onto the page.
Don't want to become like you,
but am already half you.
You know what they usually don't say,
like father like daughter.
It's a black and white picture,
no more differences.
Always your shadow behind me as I look into the mirror.
Your fingerprints are on the piano,
staining the keys.
The piano is your music,
voice is mine.
The times we spend together are the times I want to rewind back,
to make them into perfection instead of what they really are,
pain and dysfunction.
I am eating up everything,
but so empty inside.
I need something more,
a touch of love from you.
You don't know me at all,
but i know everything about you.
Your heart has broken into many pieces,
spreading through your body,
you just don't show any piece of it.
Who will fix your mess when everything you touch breaks completely?
I will, I have to, since I am your other half.
If you want the background/inspiration to this poem feel free to message me
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