Her window was open
And her eyes were closed
She sat there in the passenger seat,
Music blasting
I could hear her singing
And her voice was haunting
Her green car drove past me
In a blur
But I recognized her face
From what feels like a thousand year ago
But was only a few
Back when she was a little girl
She finally looks happy
She never used to
…
Time passes and one day I’m at a bus stop
Waiting
Just waiting
I sit on the bench as the smell of cigarettes
From the smokers nearby
Engulfs me
And there she is
In the crowd of people
But I recognize her
I catch her eye, and I see her expression flicker ever so slightly
Her eyes narrow in dislike for a split second
But as if it never occurred, she looks away causally
As if she were staring at something just over my shoulder
Another bus pulls up and she boards it,
Flashing a polite smile at the bus driver
She is so much more pleasant to those who don’t know her
But I have given her reason not to like me, of course
One of those regrets you try to drown with an oh well
…
Fraternity party
I’m haven’t even finished my first beer
There she is, in a would-be modest dress, but she made the mistake of accepting a drink from a stranger so the front is unbuttoned more than I know she usually would let be, sober.
The punch was spiked, as usual. I know, because one of my buddies did it.
Too many hands on the giggling mess of the grown up little girl I used to know.
I never really particularly liked her, but something about it bothers me.
She is like a part of my childhood. Nothing important, just a blurred piece of the framework, but still.
I can’t let her be defiled by the man she doesn’t know with clear bad intentions who is leading her by the small of her back out the door, his hand slipping a little too low.
I tap the guy on the shoulder and he scoffs at my request to leave her alone.
She is confused but vaguely recognizes me and earnestly informs me she doesn’t like me because I didn’t used to be very nice to her.
I tell her I know and I’m sorry but she’s got to listen to me.
I manage to convince her not to go home with the man.
I get her to tell me how she got here, she drove herself, alone.
She is far too drunk to remember where she lives and she doesn’t know anyone here.
Reluctantly, I bring her to stay at my house for the night.
She vomits and passes out in my car on the drive there.
I carry her in and mean to drop her on the couch but I find myself pacing up the stairs to my bedroom.
I gently lay her down, and watch her sleep. She doesn’t scowl as much as she used to when I knew her when she is sleeping. I notice she is pretty, then grab a pillow and sleep downstairs on the couch for the night.
…
I wake up and roll over to the sight of her lying on the other side of my bed.
Her eyelids flutter open and I smile at my beautiful 7 year girlfriend.
A used-to-be part of my childhood, and now a part of me.
I whisper her name, and pull out a diamond ring.
…
Hop off the plane when it touches down back from my business trip and dash to the nearest taxi to the hospital
Maybe all those three AM cravings and watching my beloved wife cry because of the hormones will be worth it when I hold my baby girl in my arms
I reach the waiting room, holding the little baby blue (appropriately so) socks I bought for my unborn daughter, and a nurse stops me asking my name.
They take me into a room. Why is no one smiling when the most wonderful baby the world has ever seen is either born, or about to be?
The doctor comes in and as he speak I decode the medical terms and slowly his words fade to a ringing silence. All I catch is: I’m so sorry about your late wife and child.
…
Blue socks on my dresser.
Her picture by my bed.
My half empty bed.
Never to be married again.
Who else could I possibly fall in love with? Besides the girl with her car window open and her eyes closed?
…

Repost if you know anyone with a child or wife or both lost in childbirth.
Comment please! I LOVE to read people's interpretations of my work.

I hope one day you learn what it feels like
to crawl inside the cracks in your soul you made yourself
to feel horribly lonely and unloved
but you never will
because in this world
ONLY THE LOVELY ARE LOVED
and only the wonderful are ever wondered about
and you are both
while I am neither

Repost if you loathe the artificiality of society today
Please comment! I love to read your thoughts!

All the once upon a time stories that end in happily ever after have the flawless handsome Prince charming who meets the sweetest princess or young maiden who becomes a princess after they marry (typically approximately 12 to 18 hours or so after they meet usually because the sweet young lady was rescued by the Prince because she was singing randomly and dancing around with woodland animals who do her laundry and she fell off of a tower or was attacked by some lady who literally has no job but spends her entire life just being evil for the sake of being evil and yet never starves to death despite the fact that her evil plots never actually allow her to aquire money or food of any sort.)
The girl is always polite
Everyone loves her
She usually has a waistline tinier than a flowerstem
And she sees the good in everyone
She is also gorgeous 100% of the time
Well I am NOT that girl
I can't alwaye be polite and perfect
I can't even be pretty
There are more people that hate me than there are people who can even tolerate me
I'm not the likable easy going type
I don't have a three inch waist (mainly because that is completely insane)
I can't find a way to like every person
I'm the jealous ugly stepsister Anastasia in Cinderella
I'm the wicked witch in the wizard of Oz
I'm the wolf in the three little pigs
I'm the hag in snow white and the seven dwarves
I'm not the princess in the story
But fortunately, I don't need to be because life is not a fairytale
And you don't need to be prince charming
Hell, you don't even need to be anything like the lists I make about what my dream guy should be like
Because really, since when do I know what I actually want?
I certainly am always wrong about what I need
So here's the deal
You love me for me, be loyal, care about me because of my soul first and my looks having nothing to do with it, you give me eternity,
And I promise you the same.
I don't need you to catch me when I fall off a tower
That doesn't really happen much
I need you to catch the little pieces of me when I fall apart because the emotions were all too much
I don't need a happily ever after
And you don't need to be prince charming
Because I am not a princess

Repost if you are not a princess either
Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have! :)

The hushed twilight steals away
The breath of those who look upon
The final moment of undarkened beauty
Hours before the whispering glow of dawn
The glimmering starlight bathes a child
In a store bought princess dress
Plastic magic wand in hand
She feels the warm evening wind’s caress
She’s crept out of her bedroom tonight
To make her secret wish
The way they do in fairy tales
But hers is so beautifully unselfish
Her tragic yearning she keeps inside
Is for someone other than herself she wishes she could save
She begs the twinkling night crystal
To bring her daddy back to life from the grave

Repost if you know someone or are someone who has lost a parent.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! :)

She met a boy
And she's in love
Her mother disapproves

Her mother says he's trouble
But she adores this boy
He's someone she'll never lose

Forbidden to see him
She meets him in secret
Every single night

He calls her many
pretty things
They keep their affair out of sight

The boy she loves
Has killed a man
Police are on his trail

She has a choice
To hide her love
Or watch him rot In jail

In the dead of the night
She leads him to the house
Through the creeky back door

Gun still in his hand
The pair tiptoe
Across the kitchen floor

Her mother finding out
About this situation
Is among her highest fears

They sneak up
to her bedroom
And she bursts into tears

What have you done?
She cries to him
He shoves her onto the ground

Tells her to shut up
Curses at her
Warns her not to make a sound

There's a pounding on
The door they came in
She follows him down continuing to cry

The stranger he owes
Stalked him here
And tells him to pay or die

Her lover's gun fires
The stranger falls
****** and still as a rock

They turn to see her mother
Who heard voices and came down
Her eyes filled with horror and shock

Without even flinching
Her lover aims his weapon
And says she's seen to much

Her mother's screams
Echo off the walls
She's bleeding and cold to the touch

Sobbing at her dying mother's side
He shoots her too
Saying I'm sorry it had to end this way

Then leaving them both
To die alone
Her "lover" runs away

Father comes down to his ****** family
She whispers Sorry daddy
He calls 911 and they all wait

But by time they arrive
Just like her apology
It simply is too late

Repost...if you like the repost button ;P
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

What's it like to be liked?
To be the one who causes that jolt
In the chest of the one who sees them and likes them?
What's it like to be liked by someone who doesn't just like you because they found out you liked them and they wanted a girlfriend?
Because I have liked so, so many boys
Felt that rush if adrenaline when they walk by
Gotten nervous when they speak to me or meet my gaze
But I have never
Ever
Been on the other side of that
Never even been asked to dance more than one time
And it has been nearly two years since then
And he was basically ordered to ask me to dance
I don't dance
But what I'd give to be asked...
What I'd give to be liked...
What's it like to be liked?

Repost if you are lonely. Makes me feel less alone to know someone else Is too. Or if you have never been liked. Or if you just really like the repost button.
Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

READ EVERY THIRD WORD

Absolutely undoubtedly,  I really truly can't express my hate for despicable him. The memories though, were unforgettable, I won't even try.

(I sincerely mean both sentences within this thought st the same time.)

Repost if your thoughts argue with themselves like mine.
Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have!  :)

I can feel the rough surface of your goodbyes
Little monsters who bite at my flesh
They scar me and cut me and snag the little parts of me you loosened and I nearly let come undone
But at least I get to keep a little reminder of you
Even if it is a wound
A little something left of you to cling to
I can taste the bitterness of your unsweetened words
Their sour expressions like acid on my tongue
As they collide with mine, yours spilling from your lips, mine from mine,
and though you said you wished it and dreamed it, our lips, they never touched
Words words born of ink or vocal chords
Both vicious weapons and a divine form of healing
I can hear your silence
It whispers softly to me
It’s cold and sounds like the quiet night air when you are alone
And make a wish on a star even though you don’t believe for a second it could come true
I inhale the scent of your regrets
They haunt you and plague you like disease, ghosts and demons they stalk you in various states or consciousness
And their drifting aroma reminds me of the final day of autumn before the very first snowfall
I can see your mean streak
It cackles maliciously
Your shards of cruelty
They are silver and glint in the candlelight like blades
There is one intangible thing of yours that I can perceive in you that I really wish I couldn’t
I can’t taste it, or feel it by touch, sight, scent or sound.
It is not quite an idea
Nor a thought
Nor a concept or a fleeting feeling or emotion
But whatever it is It is swirling around your aura
Rising from your mind like steam from the fragile surface of a cup of Irish tea
And it stings so badly
Because whatever it is
I can sense it somehow with my soul
I can sense you not Missing me.
Not one little bit.

Glass is essentially perfect
Clear and easy to see through
Nothing hidden inside
No fractures
smooth
shining
flawless
used to hold treasures in museums
like priceless artifacts
the crown jewels
practically perfect
You could be like glass
Perfect
but keep in mind
glass is just waiting to shatter
and you can't ever fix it
once it has been broken

Society: Love is all you need. Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me. You are beautiful and unique, everyone is!

Me: Oh shut up.

If you just cannot seem to find love and need to live off of something else, if words CAN hurt you, (if you think they can't, I will cheerfully smack you with a dictionary (: ) and you hate being told you are beautiful as if that is gonna change your mind when you just do not see it then please repost.
Comment! I love to read comments!