flower petals; long dead
scattered about my empty bed
they symbolize the wilted love
the shriveled heart
the plucked feelings
they lay as worthlessly
as she feels to him
nothing special to these petals
the sad pedicel
the crying pistil
why did your flowers die
as soon as they touched my hands
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 2:14 AM UTC
from the balcony i stand
i see it
o, the great relief
through the rain
it shines through
to remind even me
that the worst
is over
but not completely
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 4:16 AM UTC
petals.
petals everywhere.
flower petals.
they flood my stomach, overfill into my throat, and spill out of my mouth.
i wretch.
i heave.
i grip the skin on my legs for purchase.
the petals just don't stop.
petals.
petals everywhere.
in the morning, when i first wake up, petals.
in the evening, when i'm settling in and feeling lonely, petals.
at night, when i'm alone in the dark with my thoughts, petals.
more wretching and heaving.
the petals just won't stop.
petals.
petals everywhere.
when i see your face, petals fly out of my mouth.
out of my mouth and onto the cold, unforgiving concrete.
my knees buckle.
you whisper in a soft voice that could lull me into a blissful slumber.
"are you alright?"
i wretch.
i heave.
why won't these petals go away?
petals.
petals everywhere.
my stomach has become a garden.
has become your garden.
your smile blooms inside of me.
your voice blossoms like a morning glory.
i could get the surgery.
i could get it and forget about you.
about the wretching.
about the heaving.
the petals could go away.
slicing.
dicing.
dissecting.
petals.
petals nowhere.
petals no longer litter the ground i walk.
the bed i sleep in.
the clothes that itch my dry skin.
the sight of your face is now a reminder to me.
a reminder that you are a person.
a person who never appreciated gardening in the first place.
no more wretching.
no more heaving.
no more petals.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 3:19 AM UTC
you lie so easily to me.
why me, darling?
why?
you ditch me daily
you ignore me nightly
petty excuses flood my window
but none go recognized as sincere.
sincerity?
are you capable of it, my dear?
are you capable
of not making me feel like
i'm absolute dirt?
are you?
riddle me that.
you leave me hanging.
almost as if
there's a branch above my head
but open air between my feet and the ground.
you lie so easy.
you're never sincere.
have you ever really liked me?
maybe you don't know
what a friend is, sweetie?
a friend is loyal
a friend is honest
sincere
nice
you know, a friend.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
Here's to the last four years.
To the English teacher that changed my way of thinking. Forever.
To the friends (and enemies) I've made along the way.
To the friends that left and the ones that stayed.
The ones that stayed up with me until all hours of the night
When I felt like everything was going to hell.
Here's to that innocent tenth grade fling.
To the feeling of falling in love for the very first time.
To the feeling of telling him how I felt over the phone.
To the feeling of him saying it back.
To performing onstage with friends and goofing off behind the curtain.
To all of the people who told me, "it's not worth it."
Here's to the Health teacher, who I have the utmost respect for.
To that band that I owe everything to.
To that boy who walked to my house in the freezing cold at 2 AM,
The one who ultimately broke me.
To the people who put me back together in the aftermath.
To that other boy who would never give up.
Here's to the times I've said "I hate this so much."
To the countless times I've skipped a day because I didn't want to get up.
To the choir teacher that everyone loved and looked up to.
To the choir that felt like a second family.
To the shy boy that I didn't include in the group project.
To the guilt I'll feel forever because of it.
Here's to the smiles, the tears, the fears, the stress.
To the people that helped me get a grip on reality.
To the boy that everyone poked fun at, the one I hugged everyday.
To the beautiful girl who made me tea and took me to Winter Homecoming.
To the three boys who hated me in eleventh grade.
To the boy laying dormant.
Here's to the girl who will think about all of this
And so much more when she walks across the stage.
Head held high, holding that piece of paper in her hands.
She's defeated a beast, she has.
She tosses her hat up in the air and lets out a cry of victory.
She's won. She's moving on to bigger and better things.
Thank you.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Come, my darling.
Climb to the top of Melancholy Hill with yours truly.
We'll count cellophane stars
While laying under plastic trees.
I'll play my sad guitar and you'll sing along,
My blue-haired blue friend.
Why do you look so sad?
I'll try my best to pull the corners of your mouth
Into a small smile.
I'll dare myself to lay the gentlest kiss
Upon your lips
Because I want your rhinestone eyes to shine;
Never stop shining.
I would swim across an ocean of toxic waste
To be with you on Plastic Beach
Atop Melancholy Hill
Counting cellophane stars
While laying under plastic trees.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC