I hate that you look at the galaxies
and are overwhelmed with a feeling of
dull insignificance,
because if anything,
you are not just a speck of dust scattered in the cosmos.
you are the very substance
that this universe is thrilled to be written about.
you are its incandescent gas,
you are nuclear fission,
you are a galaxy's lifeline,
it's reason to celebrate living in the darkness,
baby, your every breath is intergalactic motivation,
that if you were to stop smiling
I'm almost certain that a star dies as well.
and in the magnitude of spectacular phenomena this universe will never cease to offer,
somewhere out there,
I promise someone notices.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
When I said you could think of me as your therapist,
I meant, could you leave the room and I’ll make notes?
Allow me to turn
Watching you leave
Into a profession.
Mind you, I’m pretty good at this job.
There’s the creaking of the floor panels
Under your converse,
The jingle jangle of car keys
In your back pocket,
And the death-like glow of light bulbs
Seeping through the door hinges
Of when you exit.
But you didn’t notice any of this.
You hardly broke a sweat.
Meanwhile,
On the other side of the room,
My tears are stars
And the sound of your departure
Has me painting
Galaxies
On my cheeks,
Turning my chest into steel
Until you’ve convinced yourself
That God locked this heart in a cage.
Don’t worry (I know you don’t),
I am built for this,
For your soapy self
Slipping in and out of my life.
And it will happen again.
See?
I have my notepad with lists of
Heartbreaking theories and
Scientifically correct ways
Of sending you off.
And when I will,
Know that it’s just
What every good therapist does.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
My friends
Write of lovers they miss
Everyday.
I don't.
I write
Of a knight in shining armor
Who has
So peacefully rescued me
From
Terrifying,
Fire-breathing,
All-nighters.
It pains me
That in these next few days
Away from his embrace
I am left
Staring at his weaponry:
Hot dog pillows
Duvets
Comforters.
With them,
He's won many battles.
But now I'm back here,
Locked up in this tower of
Unfinished requirements.
The essays
Have destroyed the stairwell.
Lab reports
Have blocked up my doors
And he left me,
Sleep left me
A damsel in distress
With caffeine and homework
Running in my bloodstream.
I peek out of my window,
Stare at the ground below,
Still not a sign of Sleep anywhere.
My friends
Write of lovers they miss
Everyday.
I don't.
I write of one I miss
Every night.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
I'm pretty sure
Eyes glaring
At the surface of my soul
Isn't supposed to feel
Any less like a stabbing to the heart.
But it does.
You have cupped
My burdens
In both of your hands
And sprinkled them over
The driest corners of my mind,
Watered them,
And let them grow
Slowly
Into something lovely.
I'm pretty sure
That every hiccup of an
'I miss you'
Isn't supposed to
Cause my blood
To blush warm.
But it does.
You toy with words
In the best way
Making sure each syllable
Is coated in
Silky persuasion
And I try,
Believe me, I do,
To let them sink
Into this heart,
You've called beautiful
Far too many times.
I'm pretty sure
Your lips have quivered
And tired of
Grinning encouragements
And whispering warmth
And uttering
'I love you's
But they haven't.
For this, I am pleased.
And this fluttering thing
Residing in my chest
Can't find a way out
To tell you,
To thank you.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC
Maybe
The falter of her step
Will trigger a
Mini tsunami.
But
There still is
The sound of gravel hitting stone
And
Brick upon brick;
Reconstruction
means
Beautiful noise, too.
She'll cause the world to
Stop and stare
Either way.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
Is that you?
I knew that smelled familiar.
It's your heart again, isn't it?
I can almost imagine it
Helplessly perched
On the palms of your hands.
It reeks of heartache.
You should really get that checked.
It means
You believed in a boy again.
And I don't know
How those lies
Made it's way to the port,
Hopped on a ferry,
And voyaged to your bloodstream,
Making it's way to the arteries of
Whatever it is you have left
In your hands.
But it's fine.
Don't blame him.
Don't blame you.
You're both
Growing
A lot quicker than your skin expected
So
You have cuts and wounds but
Don't panic, I've got the thread.
It's time for the stitches.
What happened to your hands?
Did you play with fire?
Did you test the waters and were they hotter than you expected them to be?
At least
Now
You know that love
Was never really a game of trial and error.
The realest kind only comes around
About once or twice.
And I know your hands
Liked to fiddle around with the idea
That it would only be him.
For a while it was.
But that fire was extinguished.
And it's nice to hope that some flames would last forever
But
My darling, you deserve the sun.
What happened to your eyes?
They don't sparkle how they used to.
I know the sight of him
Knocked the wind right out of you
And lifted your spirits so high
And filled you up with enough electricity
To power that spark.
But the opportunities to gaze at him
Are only so temporary.
Things only glitter
When they're exposed to
The Light.
So, better fix those eyes on the
One thing
That is eternally bright.
Trust me, when you do, the tears
Will evaporate from your eyes,
Making everything clearer,
And the world will start to make sense again.
What happened to your ears?
You've pierced and stuffed them with
All the wrong syllables.
I know those phrases and letters
Sounded like a good idea for a while.
Maybe you heard them at the
wrong time.
Or
Maybe they were never meant for you.
I know how it stings.
But uncover your ears because
There are people who still want to tell you more
Beautiful truths.
You must listen.
Now,
The sight of the word "people"
Makes you wish I meant him.
But my darling, I can only
Assure you that there is someone
Out there
Carrying all the right words
In the pockets of his hoodie.
All you need to do now is
Be still.
Remember,
You are a princess.
For a while, you've kept your head down
And your crown
Is slowly slipping from it.
But a day will come when your heart will
Heal from the lies,
Your eyes will sparkle,
Your hands will work again,
Your ears will only hear songs
And it will all be because
You waited.
Let me tell you, my darling,
True love is more than worth it.
So,
Keep your chin up.
You can't miss it.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
I remember when you told me to
let it go
The words slipped out of your mouth but never did you let pride slip out of your fingers
I know, because every syllable still stings
The surface of my heart.
Mr. Building, you let go.
Allow the wind to blow against your hair and
create wrinkles on your clothing
But never let it
Knock the dreams right out of you
Because
I believe in them and never will I
Even stutter those words to you
le-le-let
Me take your hand and help you carry those burdens
Don't ever drop your ceramic hope,
Cling on to your glassy aspirations because dreams
Are made of fine china
So precious
So fragile
So so so beautiful
Please don't let your chin fall to the ground.
Lift yourself up,
Because the world deserves to see
How tall He's built you
But prove to them
That when the earthquake comes,
You height's got nothing on your
Foundations.
And if telling me to let it go
Is to break me back into concrete,
Powder,
Cement,
Then by all means demolish these
Stories and hammer through these
Crevasses
Because every broken window
Is worth seeing you succeed.
It'll hurt me to the very ground,
But your standing tall
Will help me recover.
I remember when you told me to
let it go
Your breath smelled of coffee.
I can tell you've had a rough night.
And maybe
Just maybe
you spent
those sleepless nights
Deciding whether you should
Let it go, too.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
I love how
Paint chips off the
Walls of this house
And how my sneakers
Are dirtied,
Maybe even torn at the edges
With their laces in fringed bouquets
Or how
My friendship bracelets are tarnished
And my books have coffee-stained, tampered pages
And I don't mind you
Bruised
Or scratched,
Speckled with flaws,
With wrinkles when you smile
Or your childhood memory's scars
Or the dark circles under your eyes
Or your rough hands
Because
You've been worked to the bone
And
There is nothing more beautiful than something that has served it's purpose.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
You are the hurricane in my chest
That can't seem to move along.
Your winds
Mess with the way my heart beats
But I wouldn't want it
To pump your love any way else.
You are that
Stirring
Flicking
Killing feeling at the pit of my stomach.
But I would
starve,
Deprive myself
of the most delectable words
If it meant keeping these butterflies forever.
You are the fallen eyelash
On my eyeball.
I can see you.
I can feel you.
With the slightest movement,
I know where you are.
But I can't seem to get you out
And the more I try,
The more it hurts,
The more I convince myself
To let you stay.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
I watch my mother
Watch the colorful static buzz
Out of my television Set.
It was a show about dancing and synchronized steps
Bending bones
And malleable movements.
The screen was painted
With graceful bodies
And it echoed of
hip hop music
And I watch my mother
Scratch her head cause
She could never really get her
hips to hop
And she didn't know how that was different from
the pop
and the lock
and the shuffle
and the dougie
And I heard her murmur under her breath
"This is my biggest frustration"
I guessed that's what people say
When they just can't get something Right.
When
The feeling
The longing
The want is in them,
But their body
Still tells them to trip over their
Two left feet
When they watch
The way I watch my mother
Want to be a dancer
And I watch my mother
shake it off
and smile
and change the channel
And it is the saddest thing in the universe to me
That she could just forget
that one thing
she so desperately wanted to be.
You
Are my biggest frustration.
That no matter how hard I seem to try
I just couldn't get you right.
I swear, staring at you
Makes my eyelashes
Flutter a hip hop beat like no other
But you just can't dance
To music you can't hear
And you can't see
This amazing
Choreography
I have mapped out for us in my head
I know you're great at that.
You can
Pop
Lock
Shuffle and dougie
as far away as possible from me.
But just like my mother who couldn't get her hips to hop,
I couldn't get you lips
To talk about
Anything that wasn't her
And I know your mouth can speak
But why are you so at loss for words
When the lyrics come
Are my syllables not worth your breath,
Is my rhythm not worth your
step
Because
I promise you I try to catch up
But I trip over my two left feet
When I see your eyes glisten
When you watch her
The way my mother watches the dancers and I know you wanna be with her
So you finally hear my music
Or so I am convinced that you do.
And you shuffle
And take each graceful step
To the beat of
The wrong heart
But I just can't change the channel.
I can't smile and shake it off
Because I have to wait and see
If there'll ever be a time
You'd dance to me.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC