i was a
hidden treasure chest;
you saw me as an
open book.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
i think about how music
captivates, how it magnifies
emotions i did not quite know
i could express.
i realize
you are my favorite song.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Buy me forget-me-nots,
Because roses are prickly
And violets are violet, not blue.
And besides, I want to remember you forever.
Sometimes I don’t quite understand
What happened to me,
Because I used to be filled with angst and
Ridden with grit and gnashing teeth.
And all my poems have turned
Sappy and for some strange reason,
Something in me doesn’t seem to mind, because
If I’m sappy I may as well be sappy for you.
So, cheers, you’ve got me
Conflicted, wondering if I’m this way or that,
And if this makes you happy then
Perhaps I wouldn’t much mind it one bit.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 7:04 AM UTC
culture is:
i. something earned
ii. something fought to preserve
iii. a part of a race or group of people
that you simply cannot take away from them.
iv. an essential part of their being
v. a heritage
vi. a legacy
culture is not:
an accessory.
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
there are times i think
people could never be so incredibly
selfish,
but then i remember
how you left a mark
in every portion of my heart
so with each beat
i would be reminded of
everything we had,
everything we could've had.
my universe,
you consumed me like
a vortex.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
that when you were
39
and i was
37
and we were
still single
we would marry each other
in that church over there
when we got together
we joked that we would be getting married
a lot earlier
than
expected
so why is it now
that the chimes of
"happily ever after"
seem so
far
away
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
step one.
you drink. you drink like alcohol is your life source and each gulp is necessary for breath. you make a game. when you say his name? three shots. when you think about him? three bottles. you drink until you forget his name — but really, you’re only going to forget your own.
step two.
you write his name on a messy sheet of paper, your handwriting about as slurred as your speech. you fill each gap with his name, every empty space filled with the curve of j’s and the dots of i’s, the lines of t’s. you step back, look at your masterpiece. crumple it. toss it. then repeat. repeat until you’ve memorized the way your pen curls when writing his name - as if you haven’t already.
step three.
you burn his clothing. all the boxers, the band shirts, the beanies, toss them into the flame. retrieve them after five seconds; burn your hands in the process. wash them. sleep in them.
step four.
fall in love with someone else. but their eyes will not be his eyes. their smile will not be his, his that lights up his entire face, his that did not mend your scars but held your heart in hands and did not break it. they will try, try so hard, but they will never embrace like he did, so
step five.
you don’t.
you don't get over him. because you will never meet anyone who will pierce you like he did, who could melt you with a look and freeze you with another. you were cracked and flawed and broken and he saw you and he loved you, he took you and cradled you and your scars can never be taken away, there will always be pain; love is not an easy ride. but where there is pain there is joy, in an amount overwhelming, and in all things bad and good they are wonderful. as he is, as you are, as both of you are together.
you never get over him. you never stop loving him.
i sure didn’t.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
doors open
and doors close
and sometimes
change is
good
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
i dreamt of bright stars,
but when i had you, dreaming
was needed no more.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
i wish that you saw
the movies inside my head;
you just saw reruns.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC