Open those eyes, I know they have something to say.

And if you won't open them, I'll open them for you.

How can I wait for something that I cannot see, a wisp of the imagination that flies through my life unwanted and untouched?
How can my eyes discipline themselves to hold on to hope for the one thing that will open them and set their visage free?
How?
The white darkens- I can feel but none and can do but one thing.
**Wait.

she was starstruck
until the black hole consumed her

Can we please take a moment
To abject from our minds
The unrelenting stubbornness
Of a mind that is told to shut the hell up
And who does

And instead plagues the conciousness
With memories.

Because we all ******* know
A picture is worth
A thousand words.

Do you ever wonder what small miracle it is
                                    to be able to talk?

Do you ever have those moments where it is
                                   unnatural to talk?

                                                                                                               She yells.
          
                                                                   It's not that she means to be mean.

                       She just appreciates the small miracle it is to be able to talk.

                                                       But sometimes it's unnatural to even talk.

How didn't I get here is the real question.
How didn't I become the person I am?
How didn't I lay down my life for you?
And how haven't I given up yet?

Yesterday, I was tired.

Today, I am numb.

Tomorrow, I will be strung tight.

And after that, who knows?

is it possible to become
someone you know you
would frown at if you saw
them walking down the street?

She gave herself an A
Because her aspirations flew free
She gave herself a B
For her broken abilities
She gave herself a C
For lack of conscious time
She gave herself a D
For finding doubt all over her mind
She gave herself an F
Because failures ruled her life
She gave herself every grade in the book
And so ended her eternal strife.

it raises up to meet me
and unfurls its flag
i should've known the warning signs
but it's hardest to see the things
that are right in front of you

I've never been in love*
But I had thought that I could learn

ECHO
               e   c h   o


                                      e        c     h         o

You are

wanted.

What would you say
If I told you
I knew you wouldn't
Accept me?

You stopped picking up the phone
And starting picking up cigars

If you told me what you feel
Perhaps I could find a way
To reciprocate

But I think I'm too jaded
Too biased, too empty
To understand

Do you want me?
Not sure....

Tell me how to identify
What's running through my head
Cause I don't know how to clarify
Anything that you have said.....

All I want is a distraction
to slow the panic rising in my chest

why are all the poems I read
about love?

Can I please
Take the liberty
Of ringing your bell
Once
More

Ask me
And I'll tell you
I need the life
Stored within the parting
Of your lips
That I've never seen

Help me

"If you can wait till I get home
Then I swear to you that we can make this last."
You never specified how long of a wait....
....it took you a month and a half.
And for what?
The end of us
was over the phone
anyways

Pinning my tongue to my cheek
with needles of ice and strife,
I grow weaker every week
Thinking of my dead life.

Happiness is all I vie for
with the strength of thousands of men
................

my mind is too boggled with emotions to rhyme,
and as it turns out, it's a waste of time

she's not going to read me, or want me, or find
that I'd give up everything for the sake of her mind

what she never will quite understand
is that I'll never leave her, let go of her hand

even as a friend if I'm doomed to stay,
I'll be happy for the sake of today

cause it means she'll be happy, and that's quite a lot...
and mine's nothing in compare. With hers? It's not.

There is a sort of twisted art
                                            *to letting go

shaking, shaking,
all i know is shaking
quaking, quaking,
you warned me and i'm scared

If I can't write this whole AP outline
I might die

But somehow, I can survive
months of your ignoring me

Funny, isn't it?

I'm sorry, no I'm not sorry*

I'll never ever apologize
For loving you
As much as I did
Even though I don't anymore

Who can bedrudge
My having
Human feelings?

No one.

I just want to let go of everything, feelings, emotions.

"You've never had it together."

It was only a joke, but wasn't it true?

I'm so ridiculously easy, and I don't even realize it. Why not spare myself the hurt? Why not push for a life alone?

I'm better alone.

No one to hurt and no one to make feel guilty and no one to constantly ask me if I need anything and no one to love me.

It's better that way.

Excuse me while I go choke on my words and my thoughts in a bathroom stall and shake until I can't feel my fingers.

It's better this way.

Excuse my while I lean against the cold stall wall and wonder why I'm even here, why my heart and my head hurt me so much.

It's better this way.

Excuse me while I try and drown the emotions that have been drowning me since day one.

It's better this way.

For everyone. But for me?

No, it was never a question.

15+ elderly relatives
States away
Parents and sister
States away
Friends from college
Hundreds of miles away
And me?
Stuck in my dorm alone
Watching for the sun

What if I were to tell you that what I deserve
makes up only a pinch of
you that makes up
you?

One day, perhaps, I can show you
what exactly it is that makes
you so alluring, so
you.

But until then,
arms. Please.
Only the arms from
you.

Being perfect
Is living up to
Someone else's standards.

i never realized how hard it would be to write
when i am being asked to
words flow like water when i'm writing for me
but unfortunately for her,
now they're moving like mud
sorry if my poetry seems messy?

I'd like to feel something, please.
May I have a plate of happiness to start, extra sentiment on the side?
And after that, perhaps a steaming mug of anger, completed with some frothing frustration to top it off.
And for dessert, well, I suppose I don't really get to choose; a cold bowl of depression will end the meal..and back to numb, I'll be.
Until it starts all over again.

Writing songs doesn't come easily
To an unbroken heart.

Taylor understands.

I don't like the feeling of
My affections for another
Fading into an abyss

When time is your enemy
You have two choices
Race the hands
Or get crunched

Perhaps one day
I'll understand just why
Those flowers we keep on the counter
Wilt so very fast.

Pages feel longer
When they mean something true
Arms feel stronger
When they are brand new
Life goes faster
When we want time to slow
But here comes disaster
And it's time for you to go

And I always thought it was funny
That the first letters in “hello”
Spell “hell”

this is just to say that i'm sorry

sorry for holding my coffee cup that way, and not your hands

sorry for letting the rain kiss my cheeks, but not your lips

sorry for wearing my perfume, instead of your jacket

it's just that i feel more alone

when we are together

Lace your words through my fingertips
You’ve got to tie me down somehow

your words hurt
more than any punch i'm scared you'll throw
your glare is sharp
but not as deadly as the pentameter you hurl

why yell at me
let loose on me
when I knew I had done something wrong?

why  be forceful
why be rash
when I was already hurting enough?

your eyes make my heart want to speed
unfortunately, it's out of gas

the animosity to which you attach me
is nothing but the mirrored
presence of your
fantasies

i miss writing hearts into my eyes
and drawing bombs over my heart
and dipping it all in silver,
claiming it came from my tongue
instead of from a paint can

did you ever think about
how we could have been as famous
as those burn outs that write
songs for girl groups with lyrics
talking about *** and heartbreak
when what we wrote about was
more real than the goosebumps
i got each time i pressed "post"?

i miss the vagueness, the inspiration
that flowed through me without
my even needing to try, just
sitting down at a keyboard and slamming
it against my forehead until songs
spilled out of it like silver

we were the best of poetry pen pals
that only looked to each other for
the words to say that guarded us
against the words said against us
when we got off our computers

write to me again?

Sometimes, I wonder why I’m even here.
Why I need to be. Why I have to be.
What purpose it there in these rusty gears
That have forgotten how to turn?
Who wants a bluebird that can’t sing,
A butterfly who has lost her wings?
And how the hell can I begin to live
When all I do is crash and burn?

It hits me.
Without warning, without a sound.
Sometimes, I don’t even know it’s there.
But it is.
Weaving itself like a web through the crevices of my soul,
It infiltrates me. And it knows me.
It knows my weaknesses, my fears, my failures.
It knows it can manipulate me quicker than I know how to deal with it.
And it knows that it will win.

How can I let it win?
I’m trying, really, I am.
But it would be better
If I just understood
Why.

and i thought they were safe from you
that him being a smoker and her being immunocompromised
were nothing but the way of the world, untouched
by your reach and unperturbed by your body count

your lust for my family has reached its peak
and you've found them all at once
and i'm too far away to shield them from you
or to take the hits with my own body

who are you to choose the weak when it
would be more impressive for you to prey on the strong?

if i can ever peel myself off the ground,
i'm coming for you.

you're the rarest emerald i've ever seen
but i prefer pearls