Shouldn't it hurt
more than it does?
It almost feels as if nothing has changed...

Bye.
I'll miss you
and I love you
-obviously-
but the lack in communication this brings
was already here
has been here
for months now...

one single, solitary tear
it will always be alone
few drops may merge on its path
but the wind will separate all

and to what do we owe this
separation, this displeasure?
Pushiness, infatuation. Love.
Five days, and it's already gone?

Don't bother playing with me
Don't you want to show up to church
In one piece?

I have to ask
If you realize the quantum
Of things I'm thinking on a regular basis

If you knew my thoughts
I think you'd be scared to learn
What it is that I see
When I shut my eyes at night

Old ways, schmold ways....

You forget yourself, darling.

I know not of your ways, do you remember those five days? And then silence?

I don't know well enough to know old  as I should when it applies to you.

I am so sorry
That I loved you
More than you could handle

but the rust still remains.
between your fingers, in your hair, cracking across your lips and the birds you admire from your broken window.
did you ever stop to think that it made you appreciate being clean?
it's not as beautiful as silver, not as strong as titanium, not as effervescent as chrome.
it covers you head to toe and still you insist that you've moved on.
i see your true colors, and right now they're all varying shades of red.
what happened to you, what did you lose?
and what did you think i turned to?
drugs and ******* money, i can hear the birds sing
maybe it's deliberate if it's lacking substance
somehow that's not where i ended up but the birds are still tarnished and that honestly just makes me thankful for the temptations that gave me more than the color red
did you scrub yourself raw trying to burn the memories away?
can you still hear the birds?

sometimes i just wanna watch the weeds in my mother's herb garden grow and not in a monotonous way like i have nothing better to do with my life cause i mean i don't but i just want to have the control of saying i could destroy you if i wanted but having even more control in never doing it don't you think it's sick and sadistic don't you think my mind is a poisonous **** itself wrapping itself around the places it doesn't belong and when it finally leaves like those summer breezes that blow leaves around then leaves them sad and despondent cause they can't fly once the breeze deserts the place and the branches and the feelings it ******* loved most and isn't it ******* ironic that a monster like the wind can feel it can destroy and destroy and destroy but it also has feelings and in the aftermath and all the torn up branches and weeping children's voices crying over look mommy my clubhouse got crushed by that falling tree and the wind was mad, honey, that's all and no i wasn't mad i was torn torn from myself and from feeling what i wanted to feel when i wanted to how i wanted to because my feelings can destroy you and me and everything else everyone else and when i look back over my shoulder those weeds have grown into a plant so spiky and forbidding that i feel helpless and know i had the control to **** it earlier but didnt and dont you wonder what it would have been like if i had just killed it at its source and just eradicated all this useless pain?

Well, that makes sense.
Waiting can be hell but if there is a prize, I'm game.
Competition? Yes. I can sacrifice.
But when you go away, I'll be so sad.
But I'll wave and smile
As you go off
To fulfill your dreams
And that smile is on your face
Permanently

Do you know
Your words
Are disobedient?

They defy gravity and fly off the page
Racing up and down my spine like wild horses

Just tell me once and for all
If this is real....
Pinch me.

You
obviously
                    love
                                   O                                 A     c   Y
                                         b     s t   I       N

She sat. And she waited.
The crowds were about to roar themselves into existence within the thin blue air next to her, but that did not cause her to fear.

But that day....it's coming will scare me.
What happens will make me happier
And invoke in me a feeling I've never known

But then what....
Don't disappear into the night,
Called back to the duties of the home
And not of the heart.
Stay with me
And help me make up
For all the lost time
We left
On the racetrack

"I just wanted you to know that if you deserved my time, I'd be making it free for you."

It's there
You may not be able to see it, but you can hear it;feel it;smell it;taste it;desire it

It's here
In my veins, running strong like liquid gold that can melt souls and burn hearts

It's everywhere
In the minds of the young that hold our generation in the palm of their hands and in the eyes of the old who watch the world they knew deteriorate

It's there
It's here
It's everywhere

To cleanse oneself
Of the blood that flowed
Between their
Conjoined bodies

you've changed things- location is gone, all personality is gone.
no, we haven't talked in six months.
yes, i miss your company; does it have to be more complicated than that? i don't think so.
i'm worried.
are you overseas somewhere bound up after your last trip there for christmas?
are you at a completely different school and every time i walk past your classrooms i get anxious for no reason at all?
have you changed your hair, changed your major, changed the way you walk?
i can't find you, and i know deep down i don't need to.
but i wonder, and i worry.
where are you?

it has finally stopped snowing
after how long?
steam and fire
blood and breath
it's all gone.

thank god, right?

but it's not exactly fields of flowers now.
because now i have to figure out how to swim
through the newly melted
floods.

My heart is having a hard time staying in my chest where it belongs.
But it can't just keep floating around like this-
soon, it'll run out of oxygen.
Give it a temporary home?
Or maybe not so temporary.
I digress.

Brush away the tears
Cover up the scars
Can you feel your limit to this pain inching closer across your wrists?

I understand
Who you are and what you are just can't
be hidden anymore

It may seem
Like your angels and demons won't come clean
and keep on plaguing you

I've been there, done that
I don't pity the blood covering your wrists
you hold the key
not within your heart
but within your soul, the cracked thing that is wisping out of your body faster than steam from a warm cup of coffee on a winter morning

I don't really have much to say today
to the ones who felt what I have
and those who still do
except that it's your own job to heal yourself

others have the potential to help contribute to your happiness
but you are ultimately the only one who can create it

Don't let your head be filled with doubt
I really didn't feel like rhyming....
but hear me out.

Why can't I find the words
To fight for what
I want

Or even say it right?

Because it isn't a "what".

It's a "who".

Blaming someone for addictions doesn't just do nothing, have no effect.
I have always disdained the idea of cigarettes, drugs, and lies. Always. I will never know how you lowered my standards forcibly enough to tell me it was my fault for not helping to get you off them and when I tried that it was my fault for making you anxious.
Anyone could have helped you. You could have helped you.
But you leaned solely on me and bit me when I tried to give you what you needed.
My mom always told me cigarettes were bad, that they stunted your lifespan, that drugs got you into legal trouble, and lies lost you those closest to you.
How did I somehow acquit you of all three of those charges...and blame myself when you refused to face it, how did I poison myself into thinking your choices were my fault?
My roommate likened it to her ****** abuse she faced when she was younger. She blamed herself for not saying no enough. I feel like I didn't tell you emphatically enough, but every time I told you it was bad that you were doing it again, immediately I was the villain and you cajoled me into apologizing by saying that it made you too anxious to think about or try to resolve.
But that you would be better.
You never were.
Being in college, that holy trinity of sorts is what stems all my fears. Cigarettes, drugs, and lies run my anxiety, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for letting you make me think it was my fault you couldn't fix yourself.
The difference between us is, I'm going to fix the impression you had on me.
But it seems you'll never fix the hole those three left in you.
If you had, perhaps the past would be different.

No matter how wittingly you phrase it
I'll never laugh
At your demeaning
My sexuality
Even though
Society always will

her black wings
flatten with the weight of the world
cancer ward

I've been pushing this piano
up this steeping hill
with no thoughts of taking breaks, no,
or of pushing harder still.

I've been dragged by this piano
down this slowly sloping ridge,
for music makes a heavy soul
that'd overweigh a bridge.

I've struggled with this piano
to traverse the gravel ground,
but there's no easier way to go
than down, just markedly down.

I'll pull up at this piano
with the fervor of a few
that will help me even though
it's getting harder to pull through.

So away I'll fly with this piano
though the heaviness is grey;
for the music that I do know
could well save me someday.

You didn't understand, did you?

My jaded lips cannot speak quicksilver like they used to.
Broken hearts are much better at writing.

I meant falling, falling,
Into the light that your eyes capture
When you read my raw emotions
Falling into an emotion I swear I thought had died in me
Falling for a figment that, for all I know, could vanish any moment.

Understand?

If I'm the demon you say I am,
What does that make you?

The question is, what flame are you referring to...?

I wouldn't know, would I?

If you were any less intriguing
I'd be able to tell you
Why you draw me

It's not that I'm making a rash statement of love
-aren't those usually too hasty anyways?-
But I have to ask if there's a possibility
If you have slightly begun to feel
The connection that I can feel
Inside your amazing self
Too?

I feel like I'm betraying you
Slighting you
Pressing you
I feel like I am asking you
For more than you can give.

I feel like I've astonished you
Bewildered you
Scared you
I feel like I have pushed you
Farther than you wish to go.

I wish you'd just tell me
How you feel
What you feel
If you feel
I wish you just push me away
Instead of leaving me hanging in despair.

I know you don't mean the silence
Or the emptiness
Or the cold
I know that if you read this
You'll feel guilty and think I'm too bold.

But I'm telling you right now that I can't think much more
On the time we should be spending
On the hearts we should be tending
On this rent we should be mending
Before my heart begins to crack.

Apparently
Just because I write poetry
That isn't always the happiest
I'm emo.

Not that I mind the label.
But it's a vast stereotype.

Normal people can write, can't they?

Normal people have heartaches, don't they?

Normal people may write better than speaking, mightn't they?

I'm just your average teenager, nothing much to see, just pass ahead.
But if you stopped long enough to read not only my poems but me, you understand.

How every poem you think is about death is, in a way. I'm not drowning in my wanting to die and my lust for the attention of others, no.

I'm drowning in your eyes, the feel of your cheek against mine, and moments I can only imagine because I know they will never come to pass.

I'm not emo.

I'm just hopeful.

Is it bad
That I'd prefer your lips
Over anything you could possibly serve me?

They buried thee in roses,
of a soft and lilting hue,
of petals soft and trimmings long,
and virtue pure and true.

Thy faces bore the markings
of a girl buried in rock,
the 'witching cause of scorching pasts
and thoughts that led to shock.

Far be it from the minds of old
to push the past down yon,
to wish away the learnèd pulse
that rules your life begone.

So treasurèd be love itself,
the will to live be strong,
'tis hard enough to kiss the weeds
when they've torn up your song.

We're only getting older
and the air's just getting colder,
but we march shoulder to shoulder
into what our lives may bring.

We're only getting younger,
with new, incessant hunger;
and now we start to wonder
of what our lives may bring.

When your thoughts
Just happen
To rhyme

You think you know every little crack, every crevice in my soul; yet there is so much of my life’s book that you haven’t read. My hair is a carefully styled mess, strategically placed static, and my lips are what they are- lonely. Sometimes I think you wonder about who I am, my origins; I can’t say that I don’t either. How’d I end up as such as mistake? You love me for what you say are perfections, yet you see not the real me, you see the front I put up, my acting. How can one be addicted to a person who doesn’t even know themself? Yet loving you makes me want to learn.

We both **** the life, the very being from each other; yet it is still not enough. I want to hook myself to you like an IV, to pull the gold running through your veins into my conciousness and let it light me. If there was a way to evaporate your essence and save it in a bottle for later, I’d be the scientist who discovered the way to do it. The very scent of you carried on the air from yards away is enough to register me for a few centuries in an asylum. You say you don’t even wear cologne, and I understand it. You wear yourself, a fragrance I wish I could rub all over myself every second of every day, every time I curl up in a ball on my bed after you drive home at night, wondering why it is you can’t just stay.

You belong to the road, you’ve sold your soul to the feeling of the wind in your hair. I can’t break your contract with independence, but I can tag along for the ride. Seeing you so happy, getting your racer’s tan, blaring the radio until the speakers want to scream. Why can’t I partake in your happiness? I wish there was a way for us to share the love for the world that you have; in its’ place in my mind is loathing. The only reason for living I have is you- and all I ask of you is to answer this one question; how have you fallen for this fallen angel, the outcast of society, the girl whom everyone forgot to remember and who you didn’t remember to forget?

I can't believe the day has finally come
for a childhood favorite,
a tune I loved as a little one
to align its' lyrics with the lines of my life.

How long it will be till I see you again, I am not sure.
But until then...

Kiss me through the phone.

I don't drop things.

Not friends, names, or pasts.

Most importantly, memories.

Answer me.

Was it about me?

I won't fall in love with falling*
But somehow,
Gravity and I have become
Best friends.
It's entirely your fault....
....thank you.

...why the hell does it take so long to develop.....

Can you hear me
Are these words wafting
Off the printed page
To your fallen face
Into your eccentric ears
And heating your heart?

Yesterday, my life was almost wished from my body
Into the unknown
By the very person who inhabits it.
But that was yesterday.
I am alive....
today.

It hurts.
You know what I mean.
Like ripping off a bandaid-
Except this one is a mountain high
And firmaments long.
And one thread at a time,
It pulls at my heart and shreds it
With the recollections
Of ideas, loves, memories
We were ready to create
And share.
Is it the end?
You seem to think so.
But is it wrong of me to hope
That this adhesive strip
Pulls up not disgust and forgetfulness
But hope?

They say that poetry
Holds an inner
Fire.

Well, if you're reading this
I hope your hands
Are scalded
Beyond recognition

the orbs that haunt
Your very being
And will hunt your soul
In the recesses of your dream land
Until they open
And close
Silently and swiftly
And you are once more captive

It's about her, isn't it?

The new one.

I don't know the specifics, no would I ever want to.....

I hope her lips tasted
sweeter than
my words
ever
did

it doesn't hurt to lose skin against skin sensations?
maybe i'm extraordinary, but
aching hurts
and i ache constantly