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?

Maybe he will finally understand
Why saying I Love You
Took me five months

Please, be safe.

Please, know I love you.

Please, know I didn't mean to miss you.

Please, know I can't wait to see you more than anything.

And please. Know I'm scared.

"I'm not really bad, I'm just made up of bad things...."
It's my fault that inwardly I'm a twisted maze of black thorns.
And does it scare you
That I like it that way?

...to mingle?
I dunno.

I wish I could unravel
The cords in my head
That electrify my wants and needs
That are never fed

Loneliness is cool
Really, it's fine
It makes you feel free
-he don't miss being mine....

And I can talk
With whomever I choose
Say what I want
With nothing to lose

Ensnare me and take me
Make me forget
And remember that feeling
I'm trying to forget

She told me no against my lips
I accepted

She told me maybe through a screen
I shivered

She told me yes through confusion
I waited

She told me goodbye
*I broke

Dowse me in the spirit of consciousness
until that inner dwelling where I've chanced to hide
is incinerated with the fire of a billion moons

Until I can forget the hurt I've caused
to a sparkling star
a dying planet
and a lovestruck machine.

Grant me the power to hold in my gloved hand
the ashes of the past
and to further crush them
until they can't infiltrate
the filters within my dreams.

And then, pray give me endurance
that I may learn to dance among the constellations
with the grace of a newborn faun,
to fall and to stumble among the comets
and to learn to love
with the disadvantage
or a hurling meteor.

For what good is there
in claiming to know togetherness
when you live
in a
**BLACK
H
                      O
                            
                                
                               ­           L
                                                    ­                                E

if the crumpled paper
graced the rippled water
with the severity of a Siberian
and the grace of a Grecian

if it soaked up the
gel beneath with the pull
of an underworldly sheen
and an overworldly strike

if it did-
so what if it did?-
what would that mean
to you?

whispers can emanate from all over
angels on shoulder pads
devils on shoulder blades

but the whisper i'm hearing comes from below
whispers from my heart
telling me to start

hope can form in the murkiest places
and i believe that we
aren't quite finished yet.

I am a wrapper
a safe guard
a wall.

I am the outside
that won't let
me fall.

I am the cov'ring
the foil
the start.

I am the paper
that protects
my heart.

I don't think I've ever longed to taste something
-someone-

or feel the brush of a light feathery touch
across my skin

more than now
...her...

Just a feeling
That's lain dormant
For three years now
You're back

Dare I summon the strength
To ask
Why?

In my head
There's an image of you
But I'm sure it does you
Absolutely no justice
Case closed.

I've changed, I've grown.
I've come to realize that words in and of themselves do not, in fact, mean what the dictionary pleads. Oh no, for those of us brave enough to venture out and discover our true selves on our own, it is easy enough to divine the truth of the situation.
Promises, yes, those; as a child they meant so much. I promised I wouldn't walk on the stone bridge by myself because I knew my mother wouldn't want me getting hurt, and I promised never to be there after dark. But I've grown. I've changed. I've made a conscious effort to become mature in ways other children I played with never cared for, because it took work and wanting to mature instead of a foolish desire to ignorantly play for the rest of their days.
So I can now walk to the bridge, and after dark too. I can enjoy the moon drifting over the river water, and I can appreciate the lull of the quiet night air. I promised to be good and not go or do what my word meant I couldn't.
I'm older now. Situations have changed. I'm strong enough to swim without my father's hands, and tall enough to stand in the water on my own.
Why would a mother hold her daughter to a promise made in a situation that no longer holds true? To do so is to be confining and cause stress and pain.
A daughter should be able to swim if she wants to.
If not allowed, how will she ever learn to fly?

At precisely 10:10 AM, August 15, 2016, there will be a wall erected around my heart and mind. This will be here to stay until I"m able to get a ******* hold on myself and get these dark thoughts out of my head that just happened to choose today to try and wreck previous construction.

We are sorry for the inconvenience.

is watching raindrops easier from heaven?
perhaps if they're still streaming down my cheeks
it'll be easier
from up higher

Really, just go ahead.

I know you have a way better alternative to spending your time than reading my little scribbles.

I may not reach more than ten viewers.
I might not ever receive a sun.
No one will ever hear my name spoken from the same lips that bequeath honor to the greatest silvertongues of our time.

Who cares?

Writing is, in and of itself, a formula.

One can choose to follow the rules, write what their audience wants to hear and so doing gain the popularity those shallow enough to wallow in their own words seek to gain.

I write because it gives me freedom.
There is independence in these paragraphs. Somewhere admist the commas and the apostrophes, there is meaning that perhaps only I will ever value. But nevertheless, it is there.

So go ahead, read this and move on, not giving it a second glance, a second chance.

Writers- TRUE WRITERS- are used to being rejected. It's our pastime.

Go ahead.

Congratulations to your eyes
and your mind
and your soul
for making the perilous journey
to the end of the ink
staining this page.

You read my words.

And you read me.

fire doesn't always burn out.
once it's there, it is always there.
it may not still be roaring, but embers have a way of incinerating you, just at a slower pace.
that's why i always keep a canister of gasoline handy-
you never know when you need to douse yourself to feel alive.

Falling like the rain
Shattered shards of glass
Wiping 'way the pain
Broken by the class.

Steaming like the fire
Stoked by your friends
That dims when need is dire
And leaves you at the end.

"If I die, let me die
Let him live....."
What else could I do
In a relationship
How was I to know
The output would
Exceed my input?

What is it that I can do to impress you?

How much higher than gold do I need to strive for in order to earn your praise? How much higher of a mountain, how much higher of a grade?

What is there that I can improve upon that will entitle me to at least a  scant amount of your love?

And I'll tell you
Who you really are
To me

when i blink
*i can blow out an entire candle

To convey how much
you loathe a person
in their very own
personalized font

If you were ever to worry that no one would be there,
I would.

And even if you didn't, you've said it yourself, I'm pushy.
I'll be there whether you invite me or not.

But what always bothered me is that everything just always seemed different in our friendship.

Why is it different when we are together? Why do the regular old motions invoke different emotions?

tell me you hate me
scream your words through cracked glass
and mend the renting vocality
push me against a wall and
give me a reason to cry
because i gave you one to
hate me for

do this for me
be direct
for how can we learn from our mistakes
if we don't know we're causing them
in the first place?

he threw fistfuls of stars at the sky
and they sprinkled back down onto his hair
how could he have known that to be in love
first you have to fall

when they pulled her down the stone steps
down to the dungeon
where they put all the little girls
who had done everything right

when they locked her into her own private heaven
in the golden dust
where the cherubs all sang
a new dirge every night

i was there, when she was too perfect
i was there, when there was just too much light

Perhaps it's a little
Rushed, a little
Harried, a little
Early

To love someone.

Perhaps.

I can't force you to sit and listen to me rant
But I can request
That you simply
Stay

Presence
Is everything

I wish that I could find my clothes, bedsheets, and a morning rose*
But since I can't
I'm gonna borrow yours....

Just because I think you're perfect
Doesn't mean others do

But just because others despise you
Doesn't mean that I'll stop loving you

pressed petals
stained with ink and memories;
he left.

If I asked politely,
or poetically, God forbid,
Would you write with me?

Write me a reply
in your own poetic guise

Correspondence within pentameter
means more than anyone will ever realize
even if it's faux

I can manipulate my vocal cords to sound sweet as a bird's chirping
or croon like Ella Fitzgerald
or hum like a buzzing machine

but hand me a notepad
defaced with the scrawl
of words....

and they'll break

I guess I should just make it completely clear
I'm not expecting much

I'm just like that at this point
give me physicality
and I'll be fine

Not that I'm using you, I'm down for the romance
I'm just sick
of being tired

Breathing, breathing,
all I can do is keep breathing
living, living,
I've lived and now I'm bored.

Knowing that he
will never love you
as much as you
love him

In a world full of
                                                                ­                l
                                               ­                            y
                                                               ­       i
                                                        ­                 n
                                                               ­                g

                  I am growing increasingly fond of
                                                              ­                  b
                                             ­                              l
                                                               ­      u
                                                               ­ n
                                                           t
                                                      n
       ­                                           e
                    ­                         s
                                         s
                                      .

I really hope you don't
take this as pushing it
But I hope you know
-in a non-weird way-
that you have someone to
turn to when things
get messy

I mean, I'm much more
of a mess than anyone has
the leisure of knowing
but if I can help someone
else clean up theirs
mine doesn't seem
so overpowering

You can fill the cracks in my mind
with as much compliment cement
as you wish

But there's only one type of glue
that can fix me
and it comes from you

We are not always.

We are not forever.

We are not okay.

We are not fine.

We are human.

Always, because we cannot change our makeup.

Forever, because we cannot alter our DNA.

Okay, because we tend to drown ourselves a little.

Fine, because we have to make it through somehow.

Human, because that's how we were made.

And perfect, because we are made of imperfections.

******* right, you should be scared of me
Who is in control?*

Agh, I can just feel my mind smirking at me right now.

Who gets to decide when I can breathe, when I can cry, when I can laugh, when I can live?

Who?

I may be in control of my fingertips, but my mind? It controls everything else.

Why is it that spoken word holds more weight
than written word?

If I threatened to tear you limb from limb, you'd be more terrified than if I left that note at your door.

The words would ring in your ears until your mind fell apart...

You've read Perfection.
It's subjective.

But your opinion is perfect to me.
No matter how much I disagree
I love the way you are,
The way you speak,
The way you think.

So perfect?
Perhaps.

his hands ran down my cheeks like tears
until they were just that

Was I not good enough
For you to make
An effort?

You handled it well. I know you're strong.*

You can do this, you did all you could.

Words floating between ears and mouth
are easier to decipher when one is yelled at,
easier to comprehend emotionally when
points are pulled at.

Out of lives and into holds I can
fall, but into hearts I never will
chance to venture, for fear of
hurting more people still.

One day perhaps I'll understand just
why I'm made this forsaken way;
big mouth, shriveled heart, no love
but until then this is how I'll stay.

For to grow, I think, is a means
of hurting, a means of letting go
of the things we want most in life
and to which we can't say no.

So goodbye to feeling sadness
and goodbye to feeling blue
The anger and destruction stays
in the place where I kept you.

To need
what you don't
necessarily
want.

I need you.

the memories in the back of my mind
rattle their cages restlessly
but I won't let them escape