And the ashes can't be forgotten
because people can't forget
what they've been taught is
important but others stand there
listening not understanding.

That's how i feel.

I keep a camera in my bag
at all times, I never like to miss
the things going on that manage
to make me smile. Children playing tag
in the street while moms make dinner
or the way petals hang just right on a rose.

Honestly, there's a rhythm to the world
that artist capture on film every day
and all I'll ever ask is that you give me
the chance to be like that.

It's not something you can search for
and find so easy; there's more to it
than that, there's the adventure of getting to
the moment, the right place at the right time.
i keep a camera by my side everywhere I go
in case I find the kind of beauty
I can only wish I possessed.

But really,
in the end,
it's not so bad
hiding
behind the
camera.

And i know im not always the best listener,
i get sidetracked and confused i
lose myself in my own little world.
I know im not the girl of your dreams,
i don't look good without make up
and im too big in some areas and
way too tiny in others.

I know that my heart is falling apart
its tied together with all sorts of
useless things and my memory holds on
to more of the bad than the good
but I try.

I am also a dreamer, so i imagine what life could be.
I imagine me and you.
I think of all the places we could see and things we could do.
I envision you happier than ever before
and sometimes I let myself pretend im
the reason for that joy. So right now I'm
seeing the world so much darker than it
really is, but tomorrow, I promise I'll see
the blindingly good side instead,
so long as you'll give me the night

to make the change.
Oh and I know my heart is small,
but i love you with every ounce of love
everyone alive or dead has ever had to
give and i love you for so much more
than just that.

It seems like I have nothing to say

until I sit behind the keys
and listen to the patterns
in the silence around

watching the rise and fall
of people in their anger,
in their freedom and joy,
anything they might know

currently.

It seems like I have nothing to say

without reopening healed wounds
that no one wants to read
words without pain
or love so sweet it's sick.

And then I think too much,
I really don't think at all,
close my eyes and feel
the keys quivering so

intently

beneath my delicately
disastrous fingertips
unpolished and broken.

It seems like I have nothing to say

but nothing is something too
and thoughts don't have to
be worth much to be sold,

hence that overused quote
"A penny for your thoughts"
sell them because people
people don't know how
to think for themselves

without poetry,

pain,

love so sweet it's sick,

or inspiration.

It seems like I have nothing to say today,

then tell me,
what did you just read?

Dear You,

I am so sorry
that we cannot
keep this going.

Our midnight walks
and three a.m.
poetry readings
over the phone

dotted and dashed
with the sounds of
shattering hearts
and overly rational souls
wondering who else
they could be
in the light of day.

I am not
scared of holding
you or of what
others think
at all.

But we stole
your sister's
car keys and
drove to the
border before
we had any idea
what we were
really doing.

Let's not
and say
we did.

Let's put
up walls
when they
look our way

and dance
on stage
with new
costumes

and redesigned
faces like that
Miley Cyrus girl
and her
Hannah Montana
character used to.

Let's not
and say
we did.

Don't let me
lose you again
especially
this way.

I'm so sorry
but we cannot
keep this going.

We cannot be
friends, not
the way
we have
always been.

Last night I found the ring
you gave me last April
when you learned about my collection;
the growing obsession. . .

It feels like the kind
you find at flea markets
by mistake,
but you buy it
because no matter what else
you look at
it haunts you, the unknown story
is captivating.

I don't think it was
originally yours
and you're not someone
I can see at a flea market.

But of all the rings
in my collection,
the one from you
is my favorite.

So someday
when my collection goes off
to someone else
the piece from you
will go to a child
in my family,

maybe a niece
or a nephew,

and I will whisper,
"This belonged to someone
someone I love once knew,
I kept it safe for so long,
I saved it for you."

With a deep breath
I will add,

"I don't know
where all the scars
came from,
or if you will like it,
but I hope you
at least understand."

In a place to sing
with a little dancing room
I realized what desire is -

the need
to make someone else
to yourself known.

Then waking
like a ghost
hungover on your
pleasures to an empty
bed and a lonely
room with hope
that they'll return
soon

knowing full well
if they do you've
finally met your match
and if not

you're just
another ghost
rotten to the core
searching for a door
to pass through
to another world
a world that
doesn't exist.

And all of this
happened last night
in a place to sing
with a little dancing room

My definition is:

knowing
a person
and knowing
they can

make you laugh
when you dont want
to smile

or smile
when you dont want
to breathe.

Love to me is

when
you want the best
for someone
no matter
what the cost.

When heartbreak
becomes soulbreak
because they aren't around

or because
you know the pain
they encounter.

Its when
you are both
your own person

but can be
someone amazing
and extraordinary
as one

when you
are
together