Surprising how much I abhorred them,
they made me cringe inside.
But now I love those
little things, they make me burst with joy.
Your bony fingers used to make
my skin conjure up little bumps
Now, I think they are so beautiful
creating majestic works of art.
Your long black hair almost covered
your arched eyebrows.
Thought it was a terrible haircut,
Now, I'd rather you let them down.
your beady little eyes
moved in sync with the curling
of your thin lips,
whenever you made a sarcastic or cheesy
they used to creep me out,
now, I think that makes me like you better.
the shape of your clothes molded around
your small frame,
I always secretly thought
you looked good (whispers great)
Those things I thought ugly
Became beautiful, sweet memories
that make up, add up
to = you.
Snowing like hell, and the cold still eating out my bones
I still lingered on a bit of sadness, of the past
But i was better.
My best friend tried to kill himself
i said to him "Dont to that man!"
he apologized and said he never do it again
"You better not! now lets play some games, you idiot."
he smiled and sat his in chair and i sat in mine.
I got a new haircut
with the sides of my head shaved
i looked like a mushroom
i liked it, wondered if it changed the thoughts of people bout me.
She still talked to me, though i didnt want to talk to her , i did
she made me mad , but i wasnt dwelling in the past.
I'm like a bad
I'm like a cold coffee
I'm the maggot
to your garbage
I'm the parasite
to your plant
I'm the tears
to your sadness.
Here I am
every single thing
always makes you
I really wished that
I will be diamond
to your crown
to all of your diseases
to all of your
I'm not perfect enough
to make us
November 26th 2013, 8:33 a.m
our first kiss was 3 days before we first got our periods together
and one day before you got a new haircut
and a month before your mom's birthday
the next time we got our periods, i was swimming through my sleepover bag, fishing for tampons
the next time you got a haircut, you got a dog the same day that still remembers my voice
and the next time your mom's birthday rolled around, i had a drawer, a toothbrush, and a seemingly permanent spot in your bed
things seemed to happen consecutively
that reminded us of time, and called for our love to consider itself.
i still loved you
at every checkpoint.
I remember every month you would get a haircut
because you couldn't stand the strands touching your face.
You blew it out of your eyes
and folded it back from your forehead
but you weren't at peace until it was gone.
When you left,
it wasn't entirely your fault.
I liked tomato soup while you liked chicken noodle;
you watched television in the mornings while I flipped through the channels at night;
I couldn't blame you
we just didn't work out.
Yet in this moment I am biking past your house,
it is late and I can see the television flashing through in the window shades.
It is when the house is out of sight when I start thinking of you;
the yellow dotted street line is your spine and I am tracing the curves with my wheels,
the leaves strewn across the road are your freckles and I am so lost
in a sea of your anatomy that I do not even notice the headlights.
They say before you die your life flashes before your eyes,
but all I see is the television through the window,
strands of me draped across your face,
and how at peace you must be now that I'm finally gone.
Long brown hair and a smile
Shorter haircut now
Spongebob t-shirt and blue jeans
Still much too naïve
Hair outgrown again
Instead now, dry and unkempt
As his life was then
He is now adult
With buzzed, clean hair and flannel
He knows himself now
Middle age found him
As a keeper of freedom
But no longer free
His now freshly cut blonde hair reflects the sun rays.
His brown eyes have me in a trance.
His shivering body reminds me the Winter is near.
His smile gives me hope.
Sometimes, I wish I was a boy so I could understand myself better.
So I could say blunt things and take more risks.
So I could tell the girl with scars on her wrists that I love her.
His now shaggy hair reflects the sun rays.
His brown eyes still have me in a trance.
His now tan skin remind me that Summer is approaching at an alarming speed.
His smile still gives me hope.
Sometimes, I wish I was a boy so I could do gay things and say "no homo" and not mean it.
So I could hold girls hands and get away with it.
So I could scratch my crotch and not get funny looks for it.
But, then, I think of him and it's fine again.
His eyes still memorize me.
His hair is back into it's cookie cutter haircut.
His smile reminds me of times past and new futures.
you don't have a favorite color
your parents are divorced
your mom dated a man who later became transgender
you have two brothers but you would've had four if your mom had the twins instead of a miscarriage
you like your dad a lot better than your mom
you have brown eyes
you only named one of your dogs - daisy
you've never broken any bones
you're on the swim team
you hate all your friends
you got your haircut yesterday and the lady at the salon was hitting on you
don't you dare tell me i know nothing about you
you like playing xbox
your favorite game is minecraft
your favorite movie is 300
your walls are purple because it used to be your stepsister's room and you never re-painted it
you listen to rock music
your birthday is february 25th
you only have one cat
you have a cat calendar
your background on your phone is a cat
your ringtone is cats meowing
you really like cats
don't you dare tell me i know nothing about you
you smoke weed
WE WENT TO HOMECOMING TOGETHER
AND I SENT YOU A PICTURE OF MY DRESS
AND YOU BOUGHT A BLUE AND GREY TIE
BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT MY DRESS WAS BLUE
BUT IT WAS RED
RED LIKE THE THOUGHT OF YOU ASKING
FOR A PICTURE OF ANOTHER GIRL'S DRESS
HER GOD DAMN BLUE DRESS
YOU LIE TO ME ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT YOU'RE HIGH
WHY DO YOU ONLY TELL ME I'M PRETTY WHEN YOU'RE HIGH?
WHY DO YOU ONLY TELL ME YOU LOVE ME WHEN YOU'RE HIGH?
WHY DO YOU WRITE ME POEMS THAT MAKE ME THINK YOU ACTUALLY GIVE A DAMN ABOUT ME?
IF I TOOK THE FUCKING JOINT AWAY
WOULD YOU EVEN KNOW MY NAME?
I GUESS YOU'RE RIGHT
I DON'T UNDERSTAND A DAMN THING ABOUT YOU
Has become de facto
I'm gonna hitonyou
I'm gonna smack youa kiss
I'm gonna crushyour lips
Youdon'tneed a haircutit's perfect
You're such ahotmess
Years of conflict.
Brothers killing brothers
and petrol filling the ocean between us.
Yet I look at your Jimi Hendrix haircut,
and your fu manchu,
and wonder why things still are
the way they are.