When I say to my family, I don't mean the ones that raised me, I mean the ones that saved me.
When I say this is for my family I mean the one that raised me from the ashes of my past, the one that took the broken pieces of a girl and made her a mosaic, and showed her that even though her pieces don't fit she can still be beautiful.
When I say family I don't mean flesh and blood I mean heart and soul.
So, to my family, Thank You.
You have shown me what it's like to be loved, what it feels like to have someone there when you need them the most.
Thank you to the friend who stayed up messaging with me one Facebook, the one that reminded me that progress is progress and relapse happens and that messing up is okay.
I now know how it feels to know that someone will be there when I fall
Thank you to the friends who were there for me and screw you to the ones who weren't
Thank you to the abusive friend who hates how much I dye my hair, for making me strong.
There aren't enough words in the english language to express how much I love you all, and even if there are enough words I can't seem to find them. So I will just say I love you, thank you for inspiring me and making me strong.
Ohana means family, but Hoaloha means friends and to me those are the same thing because the both mean no one gets left behind, even the awkward girl who makes bad puns.
I hardly remember
a goddamn thing
about that day
before gazing into his eyes
once again, for the first time
rushing toward the exit
running from the baggage claim;
it was all a blur,
as walked through those doors
all I remember was the vastness
of the first sight,
stepping into the bright, unfamiliar place
& nothing else, but him
I scanned the crowd
the strange faces waiting
for loved ones
emotion thick enough to touch
in the air,
but just to my right
in the front
with his body pressed up against the metal bar,
I saw him
it was the first time I saw his face
not through a photo or webcam
in a time that was so long it ached
I think I lost my breath
did I leave my things behind when I ran?
I don't remember,
I just ran to him
it was too surreal
I can't remember a moment between
seeing his face, & kissing his lips
nor what kind of kiss it was
or how long it lasted
I just couldn't fathom it
I was really there
it was really him
& it didn't matter where we were
it was all a wonderland
to me, I was holding his hand again
everything was bright & new
it was magic, pure magic
There is a river, of blistering cold,
With a history unknown, and a past untold,
I hear it's waters, are like liquid fire,
Doused in hate, and tempered with desire,
I've seen its violent tremors, and jarring quakes,
The bones and destruction, it leaves in its wake,
But I've heard it's melodies, and sweet lullabies,
That lift my spirits, and dull my cries,
So I long to sail, upon this river of strife,
I long to sail, upon this river that is Life.
There is a lake, I long to cross,
It carries burdens, and too much loss,
But if you wait, till the midnight comes,
You may find your lover waiting, with open arms,
I've felt its cold, like the hand of death,
Yet it brings revival, and new birth,
I lurk by its waters, waiting and watching,
For stories and legends, or at least something,
For I may leave tonight, and I pray I can cope,
With the life I'll lead, upon this lake that is Hope.
But there is an island I long to shun,
Filled with man, and filled with sun,
It's rivers are sweet, and flow with grace,
And life goes on, at a leisurely pace,
There are fruits heard of, only in legends,
Where heroes roam wild, with their days to spend,
On this island there's a home, waiting for me,
Filled with those, that I long to see,
But this island I must shun, for though filled with mirth,
Is nothing more, than the island, that is Death.
Weight off your shoulders
With your mistakes
Today is the start
Of a brand new day
And I plan on taking
Your breath away
To its' fullest
To your fear
Because fear is
The devil in disguise
All he wants
Is to make you cry
Open the gates of your heart
Is a brand new start
The fireworks make me nervous this year.
I dream of aliens by the back door,
their lenses centred on my idiocy,
and the ghost of my father
is haunting my every mistake.
I wear hats indoors to feel like someone else,
a costume for my solitude,
to play the poet,
and hide my head from the night.
What does it mean to "Be in Love"!
Does it have to be so all consuming?
Why can't you put as much effort into loving yourself as you do in loving someone else.
Maybe, just maybe, if you changed your priorities towards loving yourself Love would be drawn to you like a magnetic attraction.
Traveling with such force knocking you off your feet.
Not being able to pull away because once you love yourself love can't help but radiate out like a beacon in the night guiding true love to its ultimate destiny home.