I hear wedding bells in the distance
and don’t think for an instant I’m not panicking,
because it’s too early, it’s too soon,
we’re growing up and sometimes I feel like I’m losing you.
But she’s beautiful, she’s perfect,
she’s everything, and she’s worth it.
I would’ve killed you for letting that go
because no one,
and I mean no one, deserves this more than you do.
Still, I feel as though childhood has blown through the window.
Soon I’ll be in college and you’ll be on the edge of thirty,
and while I’ll be laughing, I’ll be crying too,
because more than anything I’ll miss growing up with you.
And I realize you won’t be gone, and I won’t be away long,
but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to call you when I’m scared,
or broken, or in need of some emotional repair
because I know, no matter what, you’ll always be there.
You’ll still feel the need to chase off boys,
and I’ll still feel the need to annoy you,
because after all, you’re my brother and I’m you sister
and that’s just what we do.

It’s a masquerade,
a sick sort of parade the day
for fools and their gold,
aged and old
like ashes to ashes
it all falls down.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who’s the most desperate
of them all?
It won’t tell,
and you can’t see yourself
through there
cause it’s a two way,
a paved road to hell
with good intentions,
the rather sad inclination
for the better things in life
like a lost paradise.
But you don’t have the golden
ticket, only a heart breaking
smile, one that won’t even buy
a nursery rhyme
or the comfort that comes with it.
Come on girl, wake up, live it.
The lie you painted of yourself
with enchanted die
and a heart that won’t lie still,
not even for a night.
Your finger pricked the spindle,
you’ve got to swindle all your
closest friends for a quick mend
in a dreamless sleep
you call your own
when really
you’re just lying there
counting sheep in
a never ending
cycle of secrets you’re bound to,
a promise you’ve sworn to keep
by Cross-Your-Heart-Hope-to-Die
before the deathly dance
comes nigh.
Hide behind the mask
you’re destined to die in,
because you’ve got a made bed
to lie in.
So count back from ten
and with each decreasing number
breathe in
because it’s come time for your
fairy tale story to end.

There is a line
between young and old,
it separates children from adults,
and it is infinite in its definition.
I am 16, 17, 18,
and I am old enough to have
Those Nights
that go on for days, months, years
(and I am also old enough to know
that they never end, only pause
for seconds and minutes).
I am five and I am being scolded
with sharp words and a slap on
the wrist,
but the next second I am
23 and closing my eyes,
whispering regret for hasty
actions unfounded.
I am old enough to know
it isn’t you against the world,
but me against life,
that vindictive *****,
but young enough to still
point my finger at her
invisible, irrevocable force
and blame her for my problems.
I am 34 and shaking my head
at the whimsical sighs of my peers,
and I am 21 dreaming big dreams,
big enough to fill a real-life snow globe.
And hell, sometimes I feel older than
the Tree of Life,
and sometimes I feel youth running
through my veins like fire.
I am old enough to know
that I don’t know anything,
and young enough to act like
I know everything.
But I am so knowledgeable,
because I know the worth in books
and learning and truth
and won’t take opinions as facts,
and I am so wise because I see these
mistakes that children and adults alike
make and repeat, and never learn,
but I am so ******* stupid,
ignorant, foolish for taking gold
that isn’t real.
I am 50 years ahead of my generation
and ten years younger in virtue alone.
Where do I fall?
Where do I fall?
Into the giant chasm between
where knowledge isn’t worth a penny
and stupidity can **** you.
I am stuck here
eight, eight-teen, eighty
moving between past and present
like a wraith.
I stand, fight, fall,
breakbendbreathe,
inhale, breathe, breathe,
don’t stop, not ever,
but God, breathing is the hardest part.
But I have to, keep breathing,
in and out, one at a time,
and even when I can’t anymore
I’ll be breathing in memory, conviction, faith
because I am not a number,
but all of them at once,
and I am here in this Great Divide
I call my lonely own
and I am ageless and breathing.