I gave you my last piece of gum after you left
After we spent an hour alone in my room.
I never threw away the empty pack and now it is sitting on my desk.
On my desk is a few notes from you. Things you love about me. There are 10 I think.
There is a bible that seems to open to the same page
God is love.
I do not know love
So do I not know God?
There is also a broken pencil sharpener.
It was brand new, given in an art kit.
I smashed it with a hammer
Grabbed the piece I wanted
And created two red railroad tracks on my right hip
I hope those tracks lead me to a better place
While you are at the concert
Plans made with my friend
So he can tell you to leave me alone.

Happiness?
What is that? Do they sell it in bottles?
Tell me, if I could ever obtain strange beast.
I think you mean a bird's song
Or a flower's laughter
But happiness? It's nonexistent to me.
If they could perfect the smell of a breeze
Or the beauty in pearl drop tears
Then let me know.
If they sold it as a perfume or lotion, I would buy a lifetime supply and share it with all.
But happiness?
I have no clue what you mean.

Your heart is empty, did you not know?
There is no room for anything to grow
There is not land for flowers to bloom
No your heart is full of empty room.

Your head is the sea, does it ever call?
Ye waves are crashing twenty feet tall
There is no safety for a boat to glide
The waves are the thing that cause you to hide.

A poet could lie and make up his own
Or hers, whatever, and steal someone's home
They could capture ones heart but that I couldn't do
I could never capture the empty heart of you.

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens*

So much depends
upon
a girl who
can
barely stand up
on
her own two
feet.

there once was a girl
who had walked for ages.
it was winter, and there was not much hope for her.
she was all alone.
it was dark.
it was cold.
the path she took was rocky and she ached.
and so after walking by a deserted farm,
she found a spot to lay down.
an angel appeared before her.
"my darling girl," the angel said. "why do you rest on your journey of life? has no one told you there is no breaks in life as such?"
the girl, who was simply tired, replied
"im sick of walking, my feet hurt. i haven't seen the sun for days. its cold and lonely and dark. i forgot what birds sound like, or what a summer breeze feels like. i have decided to take a break now. just rest and take a break. so i have chosen here. and if this happens to be my grave, then so be it. i have nothing to live for."
and the girl closed her eyes and laid on her back.
"dear child!" the angel exclaimed. "look! with your eyes. for the sun is right on the horizion. can you not see spring right there? you must walk a little further. do not give up hope. remember that, when all is lost, do not give up hope."
and so the angel disappeared into the heavens, and the girl turned to see.
on the horizon, was the shinning sun. there was spring,
where everything was alive.
and although she was sore, the girl kept walking, and with every step
the new day seemed farther,
until one moment,
the snow was gone and it was warm.
there were birds chirping and the sounds of children laughing.
the trees rustled with a breeze,
and everything was bursting with life.
it was bright and warm.
and all was well.

What would you have done that day
if i asked you, begged for you to stay
but now i wouldn't want you back,
for feeling for you i do now lack

you are heartless, cruel my dear
you never cared, oh how my heart did tear
and looking back, oh now i know
to the devil you had sold your soul

so close your eyes, lets say goodbye
go on and tell some other grl your little lies
and now im utterly thankful for that day
the day, the day you walked away.

She stayed up quite late many nights
Pricking her fingers raw sometimes
Telling herself that it did indeed matter.
She would thread a ribbon with such care that it seemed as if the ribbon was her own life
And each stitch with such precision!
Lined with words, with nouns, the adjectives kept together just perfect
Yet no one would wear her sorry stories
No, no one read the tear-stained woven fabrics
In such brilliant hues that even a cardinal would be jealous.
Scarlet after all is such a lovely color.