If times must be counted for fear of forgetting
Then, my love, the second we're betting
Anything beyond what we can put in a box
I'm wagering a wish in the form of chains and locks
Because if time teaches anything, it's the pain of fear
And if my love is quantified, then I must hold all of it dear.

Now I have never kissed you before

But I have imagined it.
What it might feel like
Or what you might do

Some people say it’s magical
But do you think that’s true?

Because my Father says it’s like a raindrop,
Now I don’t understand that too

But he’s had a lot more experience than me
If I had to guess what he meant
I would say it’s soft,
Welcoming,
And sends a chill down your spine,
Is a little uncomfortable at first
But in the end, it will be just fine.

If this is true, then it’s not how it feels that makes it magical
It’s the fact I’ll be doing it with you.

Are we broken babe?
Unmade
By all that remains
Of what made us.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille

Morbid,
Morbid!

Slowly, the dragon coaxes his slow but
precise ambulatory apparatus.

Deep from within the primal mind,
We all exude marvelous exhortations, excretions and exhibitions.

Yet as  the dragons  glassy, languid, beaded eyes
fix upon our hapless hero,

So is his innocence consumed.

i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much

My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
Waiting,
For the better parts.
Waiting,
For the “soon”.
Waiting,
For my life to begin.
Because,
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.

(warm)th, (gold)en
skin, a canvas for parody
warm(th), gold(en)
temperate air of melody
twists the tidal antibody
towards bowing phrase of prosody
(war)mth, gol(den)

i long for a love
that will break me,
eat me whole
and spit me out aching.
i want to love
as achilles loved patroclus,
with a burning in my heart
and a madness
that would tear
even the fates apart.

She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

You're the coolest dork I've ever met
You figured it all out
Accidentally
And lucked into a life of
Luxury
I wish it would make you
Happy
But something inside
You cries
At the weight of the ties
And the necessary lies
The burden of successful tries

I'm sinking farther into the sea
Air cut off, unable to breathe

But it's not all too bad
The water's warm
and the fish look nice

It's a shame I can only see this
By myself
at the end.

you write
poetry on the
wind
and expect me
to read

when I die
do not burn me
or bury me inside the ground
instead cover me in ink
and surround me with papers

- a poet never dies

This place. I don't know.
so many people / want to block..
  their words,
they climb all over me.
one's in particular--

Heart-expressed words bringing down
the healing light of relationship to the parts of me
who up until now
have known little or no relationship of its kind;

      and there is conflict within me as I fight it..
    years the locusts have eaten; and the opportunity of restoration;
      often squandered. in vanity.

none of that mattered much;
until now--

When the unredeemed heart-parts of myself
reveal to me their dormancy:    left detached
from community  with one another--

  an internal community   necessary
  to withstand  the brilliant light    and glory
  brought down by those here who write as she does.

          but she;

    through her unfiltered heart-writes
    brings down the very magic and beauty and fullness of the
    relational dance of the godhead.

     And it's raw beauty is ****** slayin me.
I so want to block her  for the conflict she creates    in me  

                     .
      but I will  press on

and allow her supremely-smithed words--
(words not even written to me)
to have their beautiful way,

in

and through..
the help that has been all around me;
(each and every one of us)
waiting...  
             all along

   --as  if they were cleaning my soul,
      .. re-integrating my fragmented, heart-parts.

Sometimes I am naked
and look at myself.
My tan skin looks less brown than it looks grey
like ashes;
Perhaps it's grey like the burned cultures,
the damages traditions
and bombarded destinies.

When I put my dark hand
onto someone's fair skin
I see the ashes
and I'm reminded of histories we'll never get to cherish.

Everyone matters
No matter who they are
We all come into this world
With nothing
And we leave this life too with nothing
We are all the same as each other
Our skeletons certainly are
We’re all flesh and blood
Our blood is red
And when we’re dead
We’re gone either buried or cremated
Ashes to ashes we’re gone
But our spirit lives on and on!
So come on all ye together
And live in peace
Love each other
Be kind
Because everyone matters
We’ve got to stick together
And put our woes behind!

You.
Are.
A.
Walking.
Masterpiece.

The roses have wilted, The violets are dead. The demons run circles, Round and round in my head. The parents are crying, Their kids keep on dying.
Because that's what modern society bred, And nothing was said.

There are approximately 470,000 words in the English language

4 syllables in “Hey, How are you?”

9 letters in “Beautiful”

3 words in “I love you”

And still

I can’t find a single thing to say

When your smile accidentally makes my day.

Check message
Facebook
Check message
Instagram
Check message
Send message
Wait
Check
Look;

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Now
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat

In between two places again

Never a clean break

I leave webs and tendrils wherever I go;
They draw me back once more

me.gs

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.