silly girl
you were so naive
he was never going to make you whole
he was always going to carve a hole in your heart
his hands were never yours, even when they were
they were always hers
oh and hers
and theirs too

silly girl
so naive
those lips like sweet honey were never yours
even when they were yours, they were always hers
oh and hers
and their too

silly girl
you were a part of his silly game
and as long as he's still playing
so are you
because you're a silly girl with silly feelings
and he's just a beautiful boy
with soft hands and softer lips and a silly, silly smile that will never be yours

Darkness and regret-filled air encumbered the scene,
Always working towards my dream,
Serving endless amounts of spirits,
Providing delusions and exchanges for all to enjoy.
You sat at this table hesitant to introduce yourself,
But kindly smiled at me, and let your friends take care of the rest.
You had a bouquet of home grown roses, waiting for me, why?, I’ll never know.
Again your friend suggested we dance, and in agreement I went.
You were a quiet soul in a bar, you did not fit in.
Yet here you were to see me, and when we danced close, the world seemed to fade around you it seemed,
but at the time, I was consumed by an illusion, ******* in tangles with someone else I thought meant so much, I discounted you from the start.
Funny how the universe plays with our fate,
Giving us all of these chances for us to mistake.*
05/24/2016

it's strange,
but it is always after the storm that i feel the most hope.
call it faithful, maybe brave;
but possibly i'm just naive.

to me this is proof the fight is still in me.
somewhere, a small spark, in hiding.
but not gone,
and this is the most important thing.
i am alive still,
i whisper to myself,
and it means the most:
that the breakdown has not broken me.
that i have survived still,
and will continue to survive.

call it gullible,
but i still think to myself:
if i can survive this,
i can survive most things.
what is everything else
compared to what has just been?

I feel stupid.
Only I could be this naive
You're not to blame, I was so deluded
And now I'm left to grieve
Over all the could've beens that never were
What should have happened and never did.

God, I'm naive, but I don't care.
At the moment I am young and beautiful
And I ache to experience the world twice over

Once upon a time,
Where I knew that you were mine,
I felt like I could fly,
That our love would never die.

I was so naive,
Thought that you were with me,
But maybe, just maybe,
Your new found love is in your screen.

I felt I had to hide,
Had to run away for the night,
Had to fight or flight,
You made me feel alright.

Nowadays you push me away,
How can you say,
That you want me to stay,
When you make me feel decayed.

I'm tired of staring at my ceiling,
For hours on end just wondering,
Where I went wrong, did I hurt your feelings?
*Maybe I'm doing harm by existing.

There was a storm
Where I played in the wind
Tree branches  mimicking my movements
Looked at them in a strange way
Wondering what they were doing
And I didn't know that there was a storm
You looked up to the sky and you saw it but
Said nothing and walked out
like saving me was out of pocket

Laziness maybe was what you had
But I know you don't care
What gets tangled in my hair
Or what wraps around my lungs
Or how my death will be soon because of all the things you flung around

The storm was  brewing
Poured in all the perfect ingredients
That's what you were doing
Recipes
That's what you had
Looked up rainy clouds
How to make
Now you're gone and it's raining out

there are still words knotted in her stomach,
tangled cherry stems waiting
for shy hands to unravel them,
the pungent scent of fear dancing slowly
in a dimly lit room where you
cannot see her

but you feel her,
innocent, blameless—

a soul with runs always sneaking
down the sheerness of her tights,
the one who revolved her days
around messy diary entries crammed underneath
the mattress she grew up dreaming on

and right now,
you can feel the weight of her eyelashes
fluttering against the warmth of your cheek
the desperate wings of an injured butterfly that knows
that there still exists something called love
drifting soundly down a river of juvenile apathy

it is at this particular moment in passing time
that she decides to dedicate her youth
to the one with enough courage to hide it
in the pocket of his brown overcoat

tell her you love her
before you grow old