The word potential is one of self sabotage.
It is dedicated to those unable to put their dreams to work.
Potential is a word given to the indicated who are poised to have talent but no drive, ambition but no discipline.
Potential is given to the abundant group of people who are able to breathe but never live life.
Potential.
A word made to create your grave before you've died.
I haven't figured out how to stay away from the trap.
However, a promise to myself is that I will do more then breathe.

This is where I grew up broken
And I still am
I'm trying to find my missing pieces

This is where I fell apart
I'm still not together
I'm searching for a way to snap things into place

Understanding is out of my reach
I walk with limited sight
Hoping that the next thing I stumble upon
Will be an answer
Will help me move forward

We shared our organs in the space of one body, one mind, one soul;
I kept yours dear,
Made sure to
Squeeze a piece of me a bit closer to make room
For you -
All of the credits were to you
This physical need to be near
To struggle and push, to not give in to fear
And all of the time I spent saddened to see
The old me go
Left you.
It left you on a lawn of stray twigs
Searching for the old me
The one that you devoured
No,
I didn't spoil and I wasn't savored.
You wiped your hands and mouth clean so easily and I
Well, I made a liar out of you.

As the wind breezed into the meadow, it spoke, "I can't stay here forever. I have to keep moving forward. This is how I exist. This is who I am."

i wanted to know you
not what you were doing
not your latest idea
not your next big project
not how much you would make
not your next inspiration
not the motivation
not the gear you use
or who you're meeting
what brand you're promoting
who you captured in motion

i wanted to know
what draws you to your rooftop
late at night
why you conceal so much
about what you feel
why you can't sit still
and can't slow down
why you show up
but mostly why you never do
what time you brush your teeth at
what makes the hair on your neck stand up
where you'd like to be touched
what makes you feel good
what your favorite food is
if you prefer a sunset or sunrise
how you got to be so close to your parents
why you were afraid to sing
or admit you go both ways too

all of these things and more i do not know
and once wanted to know
but now will sift in the waves of my head
now ceasing the endless search for answers
i am tying down the mast
and giving up the hunt for new territory
in your head
things i wish i'd asked before i let you drift away
things that no longer matter to me
even if you took the time to explain them

all i wanted was to know your humanity
to trace the contours of your personality
with my finger
until i knew each inch by heart
but you don't let people in
for fear of rejection
but by not letting me in
i fear i have no choice but to reject you
again,
it's not what i'd like
it's more heartbreaking to stare at a door
that you're afraid to open
and i regret not seeking to break it down with an axe
all those years lightly tapped the outside
and you couldn't hear me
i never tried hard enough to know you
but you don't try hard enough to be known

it's nothing more than a photograph
with no context
no background
no story
no meaning
but still i can't stand to see your face
beside her
framed by her long hair
you look happy
it's painfully obvious
it's black and white

i feel demolished
you opened me up
and felt my insides
vulnerability spilling out like spaghetti
the quiet of the blade
you didn't sew me up correctly
if you patched me hardly at all

and what for?
years to kiss the pain away
and you dig it all from it's grave
you hand it to me
the backstabbing, numbing sensation
beating alive and well

i wish these walls were barren
so i could scream and scratch out the plaster
the white wash of concrete
spying on us making love
give it something else to look at

you can find me
ripping out strands of my hair
at 11:58 at night

there's a boy who came from boston
but i am reeling over you
one week since you were in my body
your impression left between my hips
against my ribcage
there's a boy
perhaps wondering
why i haven't given a time
for us to meet quite yet
i'm on my way and he has no clue
to the coffee shop you invited me to first
while there was still snow gathered at the curb
he's probably wondering why i never called
to say goodbye back then
i wonder if you've realized
that i haven't yet given you the same chance
because i'm hoping in agony
that there isn't a chance
something is growing inside me
something that's ours
because i'd keep it