Hold on while I explode,
my mind is pacing,
my heart is racing.
Don't let me go,
I can't be left alone.

Your love is a light
that shines down on the darkness,
that protrudes my mind.

Your love is a guide
through the thick black forest,
of my crippled mind.

I can feel you,
when you look into my soul.

Hold on while I implode,
the feelings inside,
no where to hide.
Don't let me go,
I can't be left alone.

Your love is a beacon,
shining high upon the hill,
high above my heart.

Your love is the reason,
that I have the will,
to try and restart.

I can feel you,
you make me whole.
I can feel you,
when you look into my soul.

These simplistic,
complex feelings,
leave me floating,
touch the ceiling.

But in the end,
something will,
always be there,
to tear me down.

Hold on while I explode,
my mind is pacing,
my heart is racing.
Don't let me go,
I can't be left alone.

lifeless faces
going places
around and around
the merry go round
lifeless figurines
carrying the children
around and around
as the adults stand and watch
the same old rutine
because
everyone and anyone
can notice
can tell
that the adults are not happy
when they were little
they would make wishes
at the wishing well
and then they grew up
had their own children
became something
the wishing well was filled
up with dirt along with their wishes
round and around
without any sound
the merry go round goes
but little do the children know
underneath the merry-go
is all buried wishes
lifless faces
going places
around and around
the merry go round
over and ontop the
wishing well
everyone and anyone
can notice
can tell
that this isn't living
this is hell

Today I made a sad attempt to die
yet I had no rope
To make my thirteen loops
like an old man showed me to do
I thought about where I could find enough
to hold my body above the ground
Where my feet just barely touch
my hands limp beside thick thighs

Failing at my attempt at life
there seems no better time
When I have no hope
this is costly and for naught
I've nothing to offer here
and I have no want to
No being pulled apart and shoved beneath the rug
yet I lack motivation and drive
Even in this
so no progress will ever be made
I made a sad attempt to change my life today

Why do I find myself so
Weak in your arms?
Why do I fall my knees
To the pit of your charms?
Why do I betray my thoughts
For your wicked lies?
Why do I lend my ears
To your mournful cries?
Why do I lean my
Shoulders when you weep?
Why do I stay awake
Just to watch you sleep?
Why do I feel alone
If you're not around?
Why do my feet dance
When you make a sound?
Why do I catch my breathe
While you walk my way?
Why do I see heavens
When I watch you pray?
Why do I hate myself hating love?
When you're a transcedent from up above?

"You are beautiful."
That is what they say,
and you reply,
"Thanks, you too."
A compliment, received and courteously relayed.

But what is really meant by this statement?

"You are beautiful."
Implies the speaker has identified that you exist—nothing out of the ordinary.

"You are beautiful."
Implies something much more—that the speaker not only acknowledges you, but understands you. It implies they have access to the real you, the one beneath the surface, and that they are capable of evaluating it. Notice that "You look beautiful." is not what has been said. No, what has been said is much more than that.

"You are beautiful."
This is their evaluation. Through the lens of their own perception, what they see when they observe who you are is best described by the word "beautiful". From my perspective, this can only be taken as a sign of deep appreciation, of recognition from one soul to another that on some level, they share the same substance.

Yet, knowing all of this raises a great suspicion. Do those who make this statement truly understand what they are saying? Do they mean it? Did they mean to say, instead, "You look beautiful."? Did they even mean anything at all?

Do they know of the tension behind your smile? Do they know of the fear residing in the dark pools of your eyes? Do they know that the way you present yourself is often done in spite of how you truly feel?

Do they know, deeper still, of the tiny, yet unwavering flame that burns inside of you? Do they know that underneath the layers of frost that guard your soul is a core of warmth that craves release? Do they know that deep down, you don't believe the horrible things you tell yourself—you can't believe them—, but that it's much easier to pretend otherwise? Do they know that you numb yourself to escape unrelenting pain?

When they say you are beautiful, is it this you they speak of, or is it the you they see but do not understand?

Does their statement stand against who you are by trying to convince you of a self-image you do not have? Does it attempt to ignore, and by ignoring, negate the fact that you possess flaws, insecurities, and imperfections? Does it try desperately to project an image of perfection upon you, because to acknowledge the truth would be too difficult?

Do they really think you are beautiful, or do they merely want to think it, blindly and without commitment?

Of the answers to those questions I am not certain. But, if I were one of those speakers who dared to make such a bold statement, I would be very careful. For if they are not truly ready to admit with full honesty that they understand exactly the meaning of what they are saying, then they do not deserve to say it.

And if they do not deserve to say it, then they ought to be careful of another thing, too. For if their compliment is not genuine, then the response they receive in return might not be genuine, either.

"Thanks. You, too."
Oh, really,
I am beautiful, you say?
Thanks. You, too.

Eleven Weeks. Is that all it took?
To take us from strangers, to
lovers, to strangers again? I knew
you for eleven weeks yet it felt
like a life time of memories.

Eleven Weeks. Is that all it took?
For me to break every rule of
love for you? To let down my guard
and make you the exception?

Only Eleven Weeks. For you to
become the most important person
in the world to me. For me to become
so co-dependent on you that the
thought of you not being near made me ill.

Eleven Weeks to go from a strong, independent woman to a love sick fool.
Eleven Weeks to sell my soul and give you everything you wanted from me.
Eleven Weeks to lose who I was because I thought you were so great.
Eleven Weeks to rethink my previous notions about love and affection.
Eleven Weeks to become the loneliest I've ever been.

It's not a lot of time and the simple fact that
Eleven
Measly
Weeks
Can change who I am at the core of my being is not okay with me.

Twenty one years being who I was.
Eleven Weeks to tear it all apart.

My year's been like a rainy day
Full of sadness and gloom
Just dragging on forever
With a hope that flowers will bloom

This month has been a storm
Full of anger, aggression, and hate
With thundering people all around me
That make me feel second-rate

I vaguely remember a time though
When the sun was always out
A time when I could do anything
My head wasn't filled with this doubt

Last week my life was a tornado
Pushing me every-which-way
Spinning, rising, and falling
Quickly leading me astray

Yesterday I could almost see the sun
And the weather was almost warm
Light was peaking from behind some clouds
A calm before another storm....

Today my life was a blizzard
And it chilled me to the bone
Leaving me feeling numb
So numb and so alone...

I miss those summer days...
Before life became so gray
I'm sick of feeling cold and numb
Just wishing for a warm sunny day

She said, "You make me feel like I'm in the wrong skin."

And as he sat there in contemplation of this newest revelation

She told him about Thursday
And how he'd kissed her that way
And how it made her feel whole
As if they were one being meant to be
Joined at the mouth,
But had snapped apart and were together
Again

She told him about the way her heart
Raced with anxiety
And her fingers shook every day
But when he kissed her everything went numb
And her brain thought slowly
And the world kept turning
And she wasn't afraid it would stop anymore

Finally, she told him about the skin
She told him that being away from him
Made her snap back to reality
But she had finally tasted happiness
And her old reality felt all wrong
She felt all wrong without him

She asked him if he loved her
She couldn't bear to leave him

He didn't hear a word

"But your skin is so beautiful."

And he leaned in and kissed her.