a boy so passionate that he melted the stars like wax,
his words so powerful they wriggled underneath the asphalt pavements
and cracked their way back up again.
his voice so soothing it ran into dreams
and made its way into peoples’ minds.
his smile so breathtaking that once it was gone
you forget how to want to breathe at all.
his laugh so happy you swear bubbles of light
could burst inside of you and make your skin glow
like a thin layering of the sun, and you wouldn’t find it strange.
his love so real that it could’ve created cities, actual ones,
with houses and skyscrapers and black gum on the cracked gray sidewalk
and lost pet papers taped to the lamp posts and flickering street lights in need of repair.
he was surreal, everybody he knew he had wrapped around his entire being,
protecting him and loving him
to the maximum point of love.

all except for me.
i was held in his palm,
ready to be curled into a fist when he was angry,
ready to run through his hair when he was nervous.
ready to rub at his face when he was tired,
ready to be slammed on the surface of a table when he was outraged.
there through it all,
every single wreck of an emotion he had inside him.
it didn’t make me love him any damn less.

i miss him so much.
oh my god, i actually miss him so fucking much.
what i would give to live on his hand again. if only to fall off a second time.

I am that helpless fly struggling to break free from a spider's web.
The one that awaits inescapable predetermined death.

I am the moth who quietly hovers above a candle's open flame.
The one who could care less about if its wings caught fire or hadn't.

I am the girl.
The one who silently sat by as her heart shattered within her chest;
pain filling her.
Pain that bore a familiarity to the first time she gained hope that everything would turn out for the better.

I am the girl.
The girl who would carelessly make the mistake of letting you back into her conciseness.
The girl, who no matter what she progressed through, continues clinging to the fondest fleeting memories.
Ones that only, with imitational happiness, shroud the grief and agony she has been put through.

I am that foolish girl,
who even after all this time still welcomes you with
open arms and tear stained cheeks.

This one time, in biology, we learned how to take samples of fish in water, I don't like fish
And I don't like this feeling of churning up old stuff
You had to scrape the bottom ten times and then take a step and repeat
Going back over the things that happened between me and you is the very same
My stomach churns like the water in that lake
And I'm a little fish getting lost in the chaos, finally to be trapped in the net
And all the dirt, the mess and the muck, that's  
Those days, after you left, where everything was dark again
Like that one time, not in biology, I felt that I was stuck down a well, and I was clawing at the mud but I couldn't get out
And in Chemistry, I got some acid on my skin
And I let it burn
Because it was nice to feel something else
Other than the murky, brown mess
And now, I'm that little fish, churned up and confused, waiting for the water to settle so I can swim away
They say you can't swim in the same river twice because every second it's changing
And reliving this and reliving us is a little different each time as it gets further, more distant from the first time
I hope that the little fish keeps swimming til she finds the ocean, I don't think the little fish could cope being churned up and caught just one more time

Freedom is a myth.
There is no time,
no place,
and no society
where it can be real.

And I can offer proof...
with actions comes
responsibility,
an ethical lifeline
which ties you to
humanity.
Judgement's forever
threatening scissors,
resting on it's pulse.

I see the reason,
I see the logic,
the neatened box in
which our world is
folded sweetly,
but...
I crave release.
I crave a freedom
to break the bonds of
judgement,
judging faces,
judging stares,
judging whispers...
to just

escape

and be me.

Be mad without the fear
of imprisonment,
to experiment
and probe
and explore
and run
and jump
and be happy
and be free
and to not be scared.
To still feel safe
because I don't,
and I really rarely
have done.

I am yearning...
for an impossible dream.
To have a day,
an hour,
a minute,
a second-
which I don't calculate,
and analyse,
and wait in fear of
repercussions.

And that is what it'll stay...
a dream.
And hauntingly wonderful one
at that.

We should of heard
your cries for help
Walking about so wounded
You cries for mercy
were  dismissed
No-one listened
They were caught up
in their own strife
Nobody thought
for one minute
How you were coping
You lay in the gutter
hungry and homeless
Did they feed you
or give you a place
to rest your head...
They hid from you
afraid of Your fowl
temper ..
They were unaware
Of just how vulnerable
You were .....
Now they are
acting as if care
but only because, they have too.......
A t least you are now safe ....
About time too.............

Sippy cups to shot glasses
Skinned knees to broken hearts
Puppy love to marriage

Why must the bliss be replaced with
Remorse and sorrow?
What ever happened to the time of cooties and boys being “icky”?

Soon baby dolls will be replaced with infants,
And sports cars will take the place of your hot wheels.

Sleepovers turn into obscene rumors.
Chubby cheeks turn into eating disorders.

I’m not ready to grow up yet.
I want to stay naive to reality,
Let me stay ignorant.

It’s inevitable that we have to grow up sooner or later
But why sooner than later?