Been running for some time now,
had some fun, a couple “close calls”
and everybody wants a try at me
but you can’t tame a wild heart
I’m a free spirit
that’s sick of being wasted, beaten down
took the reigns and my hands up
let my hair down, turned up the bass
Single never felt so free:
no more games, endless bullshit
I’m not pointing fingers, only one in the air
got the crimson lips, left my mark
hope you received my message.
Yeah, you break my heart
come back and swear that you’ve changed
said you loved me, but
changed your mind when I said “no”
you want to “still be friends”
but turn the other cheek
told me “it’s not you, it’s me”
a starved ego begging for modesty
convinced me that we’re meant to be
then claim you don’t want strings.
Now, I just want to have fun
don’t want the lies, the “he said, she said”
don’t want anybody to answer to
I’m not trying to tease, just want a good laugh
I’m doing me, and I don’t care
a lady like me won’t settle for anything less
than a shot of whiskey, and someone pouring
the next.

Nothing ever happens when you expect it,
so go with the flow and take chances
because somewhere in all the unexpected
comes a moment of opportunity to discover something
beautiful, breath-taking, life-changing.

When you love something, fight for it,
even on days when you want to give up;
And when you love someone, find a way to show them every day;
They want proof, not another promise to break,
good things are worth the effort.

There are gong to be situations that force you to choose
and do things that you don’t want to do
But sometimes the hardest decisions provide the best outcomes
Trust what you believe to be “right,” do it with innocence
and just know that He will help you through the rest.

All the mistakes you make eventually lead you in the right direction,
so take the “wrong turns” as detours and lessons learned.
Don’t stare for too long, ‘cause you’ll get stuck in a memory
and don’t stray too far from the speed limit:
go too slow, you’ll ever get to where you want
go too fast, you’ll miss the finer details.

Never lose faith in your dreams
because what’s meant to be will always find a way,
no matter how many people try to discourage you, don’t believe in you.
Sometimes when you’re in a battle, you must be your own hero,
persistence, acceptance and adaptability will help you grow faster
and understand that some things take a while to work out
in the end, everything happens for a reason you must accept.

“No regrets, just lessons learned.”
That’s what I’ve come to live by
But tonight I made a terrible mistake,
A lesson I learned long ago,
I failed tonight.
We were friends, never wanted anything more
And we were drinking, and talking,
And laughing as we drank, and we talked
Said goodnight, and as soon as the lights went out
The “no” that has been calloused, the same “no”
That became my favorite word,
Yes, the “no” that slowly forgot it’s meaning
Forged my only regret.
His fingers, I’d felt this before
His lips, his teeth, upon the line of my jaw
Tracing down to my nipples, his tongue between my legs
And I can’t say that I was impressed.
He had wrapped his arms around me,
His fingertips carving every curve of my naked body;
For the first time, I didn’t feel an emotion.
I felt disgusted, disappointed, distraught:
He wasn’t you,
And all I pictured was you holding me so gently,
The safety I felt just being near, and the way your eyes lock mine
I wish I could say I didn’t feel bad, that this wasn’t a regret.
I didn’t feel safe, I wanted to escape:
I felt smothered, violated.
I thought of what it would be like with you,
To fall asleep to the beating of your heart,
Feel the warmth trickle out of your fingertips,
Could I close my eyes and be wrapped in pleasant dreams?
Because it’s 4:41 am, and I’m lying on my bathroom floor,
Deserted him in my bed beneath tangles of sheets I’d rather burn than wash,
“I haven’t been with a guy in over two years,” I told him,
my body convulsing, my nails digging into my own flesh in clenched fists
I want to say I’m sorry, for all the things I cannot explain,
And when he paused to reach for the back pocket of his pants,
I knew in that moment, yes, when he asked my permission,
I should’ve said no.

I am not thinking of you

I have replaced every memory of you,

with the laughter,

moments of true happiness

that he has provided me.

And for once,

the good finally outweighs the bad.

I’m grateful,

happy, smitten, touched,

sincerely motivated, inspired

everything you taught me not to feel,

above all else:

I’m alive,

liberated; loving every second of it.

I want you to look at me
and when you see my smile,
I want you to know
that I want you to smile, too,
and I want you to say:
“Yeah, I did that.”

“Yeah, with you, I can feel again,”
OneRepublic wrote my melody
I’ve been singing since we first met.
You see, I met a few too many
deceivers playing the name of love
and I needed something closer to real
‘cause the only love I’ve come to know
is the kind that spirals, splits and scars
They all claim that they’re ‘different’
had lines to convince me of it
but they’ve all been practiced to perfection;
of the time they wasted, all those pennies spent
could never add up to the truth you offer
in that smile that assures me of one thing:
I can be me
I’ve given you my past, all my flaws
and you didn’t budge, stood your ground,
still smiled at me the same;
You encourage my dreams
and find a way to make me laugh
undoubtedly, so effortlessly
I’ve never felt so beautiful
than I do when I’m with you
Tonight, I’ve made my choice—
that even though I’m terrified—
I’ll unclench my fists,
and lay down my walls
because if love has taught me anything at all,
it is to appreciate who you have
and when its with somebody as amazing as you,
fight for them, let it breathe, let it live
freely, fearlessly,
even if momentarily,
for every heartbeat needs its rhythm, and my God,
I’ve never heard anything more riveting
than the chorus you have me singing,
our song stuck on repeat, and we know all the lyrics.
So turn it up, let us come together in this moment
and sing along.

I know people look at me
and wonder where I find strength,
why happiness is absent,
a smile that holds a thousand lies.
I’ve sculpted a face, a tone
that deceives you to believe I’m okay,
four walls build to shield you
from the surrender I succumb to
when you’re not around,
and there’s nobody I need to be strong for.
But if you look closely, you’ll see
the days I’ve spent contemplating my purpose
all the friends I’ve lost along the way,
those small aches lead me to a palm of pills
because I can’t sleep, their faces haunting,
their memories blurred, all I can hear are whispers;
and I’ve had that blade pressed to calloused flesh
trying to drain the guilt and shame
from the gaping wound to the drum beat fallen out of key,
the gentlest pounding against hollow innocence that I miss;
clenched fists and burning knuckles
forging rage upon defeat, splintered bones,
hands trembling, ‘cause my fingers move
while I scream, my voice paralyzed.
I take a drag, take a sip, alternate:
I’m suffocating in my sorrow.
Broken blood vessels surface, my cheek to the ground
and I’m careful pushing off, fingernails penetrating filth
a melody plays in the distance, I can hear them singing along
barely able to stand, I’m convulsing, but I take a step forward
determined to make it back to the good times
when we joined hands, and as one, we stood our ground
raised our voices on battlelines;
We were brothers, sisters, friends forever
bound by laughter, happiness and peace
brought to acceptance through the love we spared each other
a short breath of hope that restored the rhythm
to dead hearts laid to rest long ago,
the anthem to our triumph in overcoming hate,
and finding the grace in true friendship between strangers.

I want a man who…

Never gives up on me
Can make me laugh
Believes in my dreams
Encourages my future
Accepts my past
Listens even when I don’t speak
Understands when I’m confused
Finds me when I’m lost
Kisses my forehead
Holds my hand
Hugs me from behind
Sticks his hand in my back pocket when we walk
Brushes my hair out of my face
Dances with me even if there’s no music
Whispers sweet nothings in my ear
Lets me play video games with him
Will hold me in his arms when we sleep
Calls me beautiful instead of hott or sexy
Acknowledges my intellectual abilities
Uses darling or young lady, not sweetie, hun, or babe
Confesses his dreams to me
Trusts me with his story
Doesn’t get jealous when I talk to other guys
Wishes me sweet dream before bed

I have pages of words once spoken,
moments captured with blurred faces
because I can’t remember what I did
to always be second best, never good enough
like the girls at the top, the ones before me;
they say it’s not me, but how could it not?
He was mad that she always blew him off,
and lied, even the little white ones,
told me he loved the way I understood,
that he didn’t deserve a heart like mine.
but he always went back to her,
til she finally shot him down and walked away.
He was flirty and young, not my type
had a kind heart and outgoing spirit,
I wasn’t looking, and he just wanted to have fun.
his girl he had for two years now,
left his side for another man,
and I thought maybe we could be
but he still left me, shriveled and wondering why.
He fell in love with a girl from Germany,
a foreign exchange student whose heart he won,
and I could tell how much she meant to him;
she left to go back after one year, brokenhearted
I met him playing tennis, my partner in crime,
had me laughing and on the run, we dominated
but he became a longhorn, breaking his promise to me
that he wouldn’t forget me.
He was very intelligent, had a wicked sense of humor,
devoted his time to his faith and helping others;
I admired his strength and compassion,
wanted to be somebody else, less fragile and down trodden
the girl that could sing along to his guitar,
and play team sports with him, even attend services
but he fell for a girl more stable, more pretty,
she fulfilled her faith in Him, and their higher power
denied me from being the “one.”
I’m so sick of competing, of wasting my time
just trying to make men feel special,
I don’t want to be an ego booster,
or a best friend forever.
I want to be a priority, I want to give you my heart
and to make memories full of laughter and happiness;
I want a man to make me feel beautiful every day,
to make me feel appreciated for the things I do
and to love me fearlessly, completely and sincerely.
For once, I just want to be looked at—not through,
and admired deeply—not from the surface,
to be accepted—entirely, not just parts of me.

Starting at your lips
I tilt my head back,
take you all in a moment.
You sting my throat
with a deep breath, you trickle down
twisting in my gut,
and you course your way
through my veins,
a rapid rush, an electrifying impulse;
You’re loosening my hips
as my feet hit the floor,
but I ain’t running this time
got me in sync with you,
the way your tenderness
fuels a passion burning inside,
flushed, you’re making me bashful
choking on my words all night.
You’ve got me trippin,
always coming back for more
because I can’t get enough
of that bite of sass,
and the swish of crazy
that you bring out in me;
one too many nights
and you have me slurring
stories of this time
I met a man—no, not a guy—
He had this amazing dream
of writing screenplays,
spending his days off
locked in a room, writing;
He told me many of his own stories
about when he was an undergrad,
classes he took and people he met;
He had several rants,
one was about banking systems,
another about Mitt Romney
and other things related to that;
He called himself a movie snob—
mentioning the time a customer
actually called him out on it,
and he laughed—that amazing sound.
Ah yes, you have me reminiscing
memories I haven’t made yet,
a future planned that may never be met,
it’s a tangle of lines, broken letters
and incoherent sentences;
it’s a conversation left unspoken
and a lie left untold, seeping, seething
through the clenched teeth,
the swooping black of the night
fallen to your line of vision;
“Just one more,”
and your head hits the floor.

He said, “Baby, you’ll never be alone,”
so why’d he leave me here
with nothing but shame,
severed veins bleeding sapphire
He told me, “I’m not ready for this,”
neither was I, but I was naïve
thinking he’d give me a chance,
just like I hoped I wouldn’t fall
He contemplated, “I’m in love with someone else,”
tried everything to convince him otherwise
and I laid it out on the line,
it wasn’t enough to make him stay
He cried, “No, it’s not you, it’s me,”
unveiled my scars, gave him my secrets
to try and prove that we’ve all been
places we don’t always appreciate.

They’ve had me on the run
and my feet are blistered,
can’t catch my breath,
like breathing in flames;
my vision’s blurred,
I’m shaking, my voice trembling
don’t even know what to say
or if anybody will even hear me.
There he stands;
He’s the warmth trickling down
from the back of my throat to my tummy,
the sweetness in the bitter
like a soft melody whispering to me
“Baby, you’re the brightest leaf
fallen from the strongest tree,”
and he has that peace in his touch
his words I keep in a journal.
He’s the revival of the life I lack,
like a lemonade on a warm summer day,
or the chill of the air after eating a mint.
He’s everything I ever wanted in a man,
yet he’s everything that I can’t have.

I don’t know if this is where I’m supposed to be
but he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.

this is not about me,
and it's not about you
or Him.
it's what i can't give,
and what you need,
all that He wants.
we try to hold our faith
as He challenges us;
it's in the way He
sticks his salted finger
in our open wounds,
has us down on our knees pleading,
frantically searching for something,
mustering the strength to stand up
with stiff fingers gripping the past,
lifting by the roots as the dirt settles
underneath your nerve-bitten nails;
it's like waiting for results
of a test that predicts
our fate, or figuring out
the right dose of medication
to pacify the rage of emotions
flooding an ill mind, and
trying to mend a heart
that's suffering from
a self-tainted mind with
its trigger always clenched tight.
but it's only about what i have,
the life that you want,
what plan He has set for us.
it doesn't have anything to do
with being right or wrong,
where we've been and
what battles we've fought;
its in the scars we hew
and the stories in them,
like singing melodies in our head
and speaking lines of hatred instead,
its in our ignorant lies,
our selfish ways, and we take, take, take
until He has no more;
and when our hands turn over,
in empty palms, what answers do we hold
when we haven't truly lived or loved?
we sacrifice ourselves for others,
because we simply have the realization
that we are nothing, we have nothing
but the air we breathe, and the lessons
He has taught us.

Been watching the whispers fade
Blowing dust of shaded dreams
Into the chill of this lonely night,
And I’m counting the freckles
The distance between me and you,
Silence that fills the space
Echoing all that we mourn tonight;
The single gray strand in your gold tress
Ceramic tiles pressed to your flesh
Burning deep with the absence of tender fingertips,
Those that traced every line in my palm
Now clenched tight, crumbling nothing
But the air that escapes your mouth into mine.
I take a long drag of sin that never tasted so sweet
That lingers from your selfish lips that plead
A subtle tremble of your tongue behind teeth
The beautiful gems that steal my words.

I want you to write me a melody,
we can sing together
and I don't even care if we're off-key.
I want a microphone to scream
these words, twirling and tumbling
off the page, and I'm struggling
to stay inside the lines
because my God, you leave me speechless,
ignited something I can't stop.
I want you to give me a role,
we can play a scene together;
you can be Romeo, I'll be Juliet
and we can make it a comedy instead;
we'll rewrite history.
I want a day to spend with you,
we can watch movies in sweats,
take a nap, or teach me Assassin's Creed;
I can make us dinner if you wanted,
just as long as you're still laughing
the sound that tingles in my fingertips,
that itch to get it all down on paper.
Oh, honey, you've got me on the ride of my life
and I have my hands in the air,
my hair's blowing from liberation.
You've given me another reason to try again,
the reverberating beat of my heart,
can you hear it? can you feel it?
I've never felt so alive,
and it's all because of you.

He said,
“Poetry is a dead art.”
I thought he was kidding,
but quickly realized:
he just offended me.*
I didn’t show it,
but I wanted him to know it;
so I thought of ways
I could show him
that poetry is very much alive.
You see,
I like the break in the middle
of a sentence,
the rhyme
that never earned a dime.
It’s in the songs we sing,
any variation of words
scrambled, broken, shouted;
it’s the cheese in the heart,
the crumbling of the mind,
and the saltiness of the tongue
that brings it all together,
for a satisfying bite of truth,
an appetizer for perspective
and a punch in the gut,
projectile word vomit.
It’s a showcase of metaphors,
heightened senses, and
handfuls of clichés;
it’s a hangover of thoughts
on jagged lines, staggering rhythm
blurred visions, trapped dreams.
Poetry isn’t dead, silly;
you see, it’s the snapshot
of various memories,
the circles I like to trace,
aimlessly pacing mindless trails
inside a mind that twirls
on blank pages, ink that seeps
from calloused fingers, shaky hands
and sweaty palms;
It is everything I cannot say aloud,
but the brief moment of secrets
I’m willing to unveil, a glimpse
of the spark you’ve ignited,
a slight sting from the bite.

Writing is my first, and only love.
It would take a lot for a person to take it’s spot.
And he is the first person who has begun to make me reconsider it.
Ever.
That says something, right?

I love the glow in his eyes,
like sweet autumn leaves,
warm cider and caramel apples,
and the way he smiles,
that warm, fuzzy feeling
radiating when he laughs.
I love his soft complexion,
cleanly shaven, like pepper
sprinkled onto the flour mixture,
the way he licks his lips,
and the way his eyebrows move
with the many effortless expressions.
I love the way he makes me laugh
with the little rants he gives,
and the strength to carry on
with the compassion he inflects
when he says to me,
“Everything will be okay, I promise.”
I love the faces he makes
at the random things I say,
and the way his fingers move
when he types things.
I love the rubber bracelets
he wears to support non-profits,
the different colored bands
his watch can change,
the pen behind his right ear
and the way he answers the phone,
the way his voice changes between
when he greets a stranger
and when he greets me.
I love the sweaters that he wears,
the darker khakis, the button-ups
under quarter zip sweaters,
especially the red button-up
with the beige sweater.
He's the first snow of winter,
the crisp, fresh breath,
a melody stuck in my head
the kind I like to sing
at the top of my lungs,
with the windows down
and hair blowing freely.

An empty room seeping with silence,
the two of us gently swaying,
wood floors creaking beneath each step,
and it’s spring time, birds chirping
glow from the sunlight cradling your face
as your hand does mine,
your eyes so warm, like melted chocolate
in the center of a s’more;
The hum of the rhythm greets
our racing hearts, slowing us to gentler strides;
And we’re sitting on the porch
watching the start of a new day,
the pen behind your ear,
that smile irresistible
your gaze locked in mine
as I peek over my pad of paper,
scribbling lines that don’t make sense,
yet carry the weight of a meaning
I don’t know, the kind you can’t explain
but simply feel
when you look him at him,
and he has the same expression as you,
my heart skipping a beat,
fingers trembling on each letter
escaping the tip of my pen;
Because I can’t wrap my mind around it
the way he lifts me up, his words
all the little things he does
make me believe in something bigger,
something better than this thing we call love.
He’s that breath of fresh air on a muggy day,
the wind beneath my wings,
a reason to smile for longer than an hour,
happiness in my laughter,
spark for a fire I’ve been longing;
He’s my second chance, another opportunity
to open myself to live again,
to write a story of greater purpose,
something beyond the four letter word
that we fear, that we fight, that we hate,
But the one thing I’ve been missing all this time,
to teach me to love again,
to let go of the fear, the resistance, the hatred
and to embrace the beauty, the elegance of it all,
whether the good, the bad or the ugly,
it is mine to keep, to learn, and most importantly,
mine to protect and cherish forever;
It’s the declaration to admit that I’m wrong,
that I’ve made my mistakes, my stitched flaws
But for as long as you’re here,
you’ve made me feel more than beautiful,
more than human, more than the ordinary,
yet we’re both nothing extraordinary,
We’re just lines in a story, pens in hand,
collaboration at it’s best;
And for the first time, I’m terrified
for the adventure we’ve created,
the way you dare me to take a chance.

Been wandering alone
finding some answers
while losing more along the way,
been wanting someone
to find me, to save me
from falling into myself.
I met him in the summer,
caught me off guard
by being nothing extraordinary,
and he wasn’t the kind
to chase me, or play me
but my God, if this is a trick
I don’t want to be made a fool.
I’ve been trying to find a way
to ask him to hang out,
came up with a few lines
though not very charming.

I could get a truck,
stand on the bed
with a guitar,
and play a melody
I wrote just for you.

I could give you
my life story on ten pages
absent of lines to guide me,
and you could tell me
how you’d like to talk
over a cup of coffee,
or maybe two.

I could write a screenplay
of two strangers
that meet under crazy,
unbelievable circumstances
and cast people
to play us, in a story
we could call ours.

There are so many ways,
so many lines I could write you,
with even more ways to deliver them;
and I just can’t decide
if I am okay with seeing you
three to five days a week,
with my pockets filled with lint,
pennies should’ve kept in jars
but you’re worth much more
than the movies my money can buy;
they remain in their plastic cases
on my coffee table,
in a vacant living room
filled with silence,
as I sit in my room, contemplating,
thinking of ways to convince you
to say yes…

It’s Friday,
and you’re leaning on the counter,
in your khaki pants, dress shoes
baby blue shirt, tie and all
pen tucked behind your ear, as always
and I can just hear you say, “Hey,”
You’re adorable as hell,
and I’ve decided that when I’m done
searching and selected a movie or two,
I’m going to ask you
if you want to get a coffee sometime,
maybe chat about life, or writing,
perhaps movies if we’re feeling adventurous.
And it’ll be super awkward
like that time, I tried the “you should come too”
didn’t know what to say, and neither did you
so I changed the subject
before you could even say anything,
but this time, I’ll be happy that I asked
straightforward, no miscommunication,
then you’ll say…

The lights are dim
and the people around us—
Our closest friends and family
gathered to celebrate today,
I—
in a simple, white gown
a sheer veil draping my curls,
My eyes meet yours
as your hand cradles mine,
And you—
in a white, collared dress shirt
a red vest over it,
Your eyes locked on mine,
as your smile captures me;
And we’re swaying the slightest,
the slow beat carrying our feet.
I can’t help but stare,
let this moment of forever sink in
because today we made promises
to love each other—
through thick and thin,
dark and light, the ugly and worse;
to protect each other—
from the harm this bond
tends to bring others,
don’t they know how hard
we’ve fought already?
to live together—
in an eternal bliss,
to never break these promises.
The people fade,
it’s just you and me,
here in this moment.
Leaning in,
“Are you happy?”
you whisper to me,
I look up, your warm honey eyes
melting into mine,
trickling sweetness to your lips
that now press to mine,
“More than you’ll ever know,”
I whisper back to you—
that smile can’t be replicated,
just like the paces we took,
and the words we said.
You’re mine,
now and forever,
the man I’ve waited so long
to meet, to carry me away;
I’ll never let you go.