I am tired.
Tired of feeling alone.
  Tired of feeling unneeded.
   Tired of feeling ignored.
    You only talk to me
      When you need help.
        When you need advice.
           I'll ask
            'Hey how are you doing?'
-Silence
              'Hey what are you doing today?'
-Silence
              
                   I am Sick
                     Sick of feeling useless.
                       Sick of feeling stepped on.
                         Sick of being spoken to
                           only when those around me need help,
                               For they know I will never turn down a 'friend.'
                                    A 'Loved One,'
                                        A 'Confidant.'

                          To whom do helpers turn in time of need?
                                             In times of sorrow?
                                              In times of panic?
                                     What holds the mighty rock?
                                  The rock that breaks the waves?
                                     The rock whose sole purpose
                           Seems to be protection against the sea?
                                            Who helps the rock?
                              When the ground begins to tremble
                                       And open its mighty maw?
                                            To whom do I turn?
                                            On whom do I lean?
              When I am Sick?                                     When I am Tired?
        
                                                                ­                              Because I am Sick,
                                                           ­            And I am Tired
                                          And I am closed.

I got three hours
Of sleep last night
And the one day
Something new
Or exciting happens
I’m too tired
So when I notice you
Starting to stare at me
From across the room
Watching you find ways
To touch me
Brushing my arm as you go by
Moving your knees
Back and forth
Until ours touch
But I was too tired
To think about you
All I could think about
Was my cozy bed
Waiting at home for me
And now
Writing this poem
I realize that maybe…
I should try to get more sleep

How do I ignore you when
you're right next to me?
God ****** we keep bumping elbows.
I can't blast my music
loud enough to tune out
your presence.

I thought of the boy who has yet to be the best of himself. I thought of how the love I felt for him seemed like a crooked line, wanting to bend and curve into any shape possible. I thought of how his words enraptured me like a tornado with its never-ending cyclonic movement; a cycle of feeling the rush of breathlessness. I thought of how the boy has my heart and mind racing in a circle. I thought of how he was soon to grow into a hurricane, ready to captivate others beside me. I thought again of how he has yet to be the best of himself; give him a thousand rotations of the clock to grow. But I realized how much better I can be for him by then, when now he has already gotten the best of me.

Higher and higher; my love sinks down
I lose the sun, in exchange for the moon
Day by day; it's how we'll get by
I'll dance in the rain; I'll steal your sickness
Breath by breath; I'll be so gentle with you
I want to kiss your pale cheek, give you life.
Lower and lower, but my voice won't falter
I'll sing to the slow rhythm of you heartbeat
And I know you'll smile even though you'll
Be afraid and it will break my heart off into
Another piece, but it's okay, I'll give it to
You, so you'll have something to hold on to.

We’re fading, fading.
And I miss how you always felt like a fresh spring day under my fingertips.
I miss the colours you brought with your laugh; life wasn’t just all black and white.
But you disappeared into thin air, just like the smoke from my cigarettes.
I inhale, I exhale.  
I’ve tried to keep a piece of you with me in every word; in all those songs we danced to.
Why is it I can never cry, but I think about you telling me that god’s plan involves you leaving too soon, I can’t stop.
Crimson stains every pillowcase and the oceans of your eyes look like something I could get lost in but wouldn’t be able to get out of.
It all fades away;
The feeling of soft lips against pale skin.
All that’s really left is the ghost of your touches and this black and white sky I've been stuck under.