Trouble's the name,
Makin' up mischief is the game.

I wasn't the type of little girl
In perfect dresses
With big fancy print hand writing,
That was completely legible.

I wasn't the one
That boys had first crushes on.

No, I was the girl
Dreaming of fantasies,
Hoping for a someday,
Resisting the temptation
To run away.

I am the blood that pools in your mouth,
When you try not to gag from pain.
I've been there,
Done that.
Not again.

I'm the chalky taste of medication,
When you dry swallow it
And it gets stuck in your esphagus.
I'm the head ache after you try not to cry
After an hour long therapy session.

I'm the piece of gum
You chew to keep from having an anxiety attack,
But it's lost all flavor,
But you can't spit it out or you won't be able to breathe.

I'm an imagination
That goes a little too far,
I'm the not plausible,
The impossible,
The "I-want-to-save-the-world" complex.

But I'm also
The I-Will-Love-You-Unconditionally feeling,
And the smell of snow
Right before a blizzard,
And the feeling of knowing
Your fire place will burn and you have books to read
While the snow comes down.

I the burning of your hands
When you come in from the cold.

But you are
The relief when the headache from crying finally passes.
You are
The sweet taste of air
When the anxiety attack passes.

You are water
When dehydration gets the best of me.

You are the safety of a warm blanket,
When it feels like my world is caving in.

You are the familiar pulling sensation
On my heart
When I crave holding your hand.

You are the familiarity
Of autumn and laughter.

I may be the intensity of fire,
And the audacity of ice,
You are the temptation
Of watching the sky become a whole color
When the sun sets and fades into night.

You are the perfect balance
To my lack of a center of gravity.

I remember the snide comment,
I went home and googled the term,
It made sense from where I had heard it from
Previously.

But I'd do anything,
To find you.

So why be a wallflower,
If only for nostalgia's sake.

And it's funny,
The shy part of me sat back,
And watched the wallflower wilt,
And the wildflower bloom.

All for the sake
Of nostalgia.

And it's funny,
How easy it was
To catch feelings for you again,
As though they had ever stopped.

I don't believe they really did,
Because meant to be is meant to be,
And I know I'm meant to be yours,
Whether I'm a wallflower
Or not.

I've got that itch
that feeling
that maybe I've outgrown
my little section of map

It's time to blur the state lines
It's time to expand the boundaries
United States of whatever the hell I want.

There isn't much to it, really...

Just me and a gas pedal and a general direction

a little classic rock to keep me company

Simplicity.

Driving is so much more enjoyable
when you have nowhere else to be

Chasing the sun
Until the moon catches up

**** roads.


Bring me that horizon

I'm overcome with sadness

It's not the biting sadness
  The choked sobs
that are brought about
by the jolt of a sudden death
or the fresh sting of
a broken relationship

It's not the aching sadness
  The somber introspection
of missed opportunities,
of wasted days
of long lost loves

It's not the oppressive sadness
that depression brings,
wrapping around your head
in suffocating silence
that leaves you numb to the world
that makes you believe that happiness was
only a fairy tale

Rather...

It's the warm sadness
as the tinges of autumn begin to show
and you realize that the summer
was never meant to last forever

It's a familiar sadness as you realize
that everyone changes
and the person you once were
no longer exists, for better or worse

It's the sadness that nostalgia
tows along with fond memories
of summer vacations
of drunken antics
of foolish lust
of fading friendships

The sadness that tells you that
"Things will never be this way again"

But also reminds you that they were never supposed to be

   and that's perfectly alright

one day you'll ask me why
i hate the smell of beer,
and i'll have to tell you
it filled the air when he hit her,
then you'll notice
how i avoid red wine,
and i'll look away to say that
she reeked of it when she screamed at me,
you'll pick up on
how much ***** makes me gag,
and i'll be ashamed to tell you
i washed it out of my hair at 3 am while sobbing,
i'll push away jack
and you'll be sure to ask why,
and i'll cry and tell you
i can't remember why i hate it,
that i can't remember much at all

and then you'll know who i was
when i wasn't me

She rises above Monamoy Point
on her wake—a Tenebrae of carbon
Then bolts back
careening cross blue-black—
through her lucent clouds of hair
from which on radii spray a diaspora of stars
Mistress of Metallurgy
tempered, tampering
Darkness forged to alloy with light

Men have always wondered...
how anything could be so round?

To arouse a sullen tide
her fingers palpate night-water’s lead
tingling light of limbs so spread
to her lover!

Close him in—
a pewter path of trembling touches
that ends in the small of her back

Men so wooed, still shudder
“How anything so tender...?”

could expose such stone!

She eclipses the sun!
She commands the sky!
...to hone his steel on that!

closer than this dream
of summer,
closer than your fingers
linking mine,
we melt like
candles,
burn like the night’s
distant stars.