Two decades in and already swamped with memories
And only the desire to make new ones.
Walking to class or coming home
People ask me what I want to do,
What do I want to do with the rest of my life?
I can feel my throat constrict and my heart skid,
Don’t they understand how much of a commitment that is?
The rest of my life.
And what if it’s not something I want to do, but something I want to be?
I’m 20 years old and don’t ever have my head in this atmosphere,
So how can I ever hope to decide the rest of my life?
I want to write with the raindrops that kiss the grass
Or sleep on the waves of the ocean
And hold the stars in my hands.
I want to climb the highest tree or the highest mountain
Just so I can jump and call it flying.
I want to read the faces of others
And put them into stories.
But mostly I want to run,
Not literally,
But running still.
I want to catch time as it passes by
And go to all the places in the pictures
Enjoying adventure upon adventure
Until the end of my days,
Surrounded by the select few that I love.
I want to be nothing short of me,
And who I am isn’t a constant that can be applied to a formula,
It’s constantly changing, growing, fighting, loving.
How dare you ask me to define what I want to be,
When it’s plain that I don’t even know who I am?
I’m 20 years old and what I want to do for the rest of my life
Is nothing sort of a mystery, an adventure,
Like a storyline leading to an epic plot twist,
But it’s wrapped in uncertainty
And the only way to find out where it’s going
Is to keep reading the book.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
Changes happen quickly
That’s what happens when you have a fickle heart
Oh to be human
Oh to feel –
But wait, aren’t those the same?
A complete paradigm shift
Like an earthquake of the mind
Leaves wreckage in scattered memories,
Beautiful trinkets lost in the rubble of broken homes.
What a metaphor for the heart!
Can you dare to believe that someone will heal you?
How could you put that weight on someone’s shoulders?
Your pain is yours to bear
Despite sweetened words and rosy promises.
You can’t fix anyone from the inside out either.
Eyes only see the surface,
Only see the façade, unintentional or otherwise.
Truth does not exist for you to see.
Truth. What is truth in love?
Is there truth in love?
Or is love a woven contradiction of hopes and fears,
Bent on the naïve wishes of teenage girls longing to be adored by boys with bright blue eyes and midnight hair?
Does the heart have a shape?
Curves and straight edges?
I think it’s a gooey blob that drips across the barroom floor
And if you’re not careful to clean up the mess you leave behind
You leave yourself behind.
Funny how that works. Ironic perhaps, but definitely cynical.
And if you don’t clean up like your mother always told you to,
Then it’s really your fault if you ask me.
Shouldn’t you know better by now?
After years of hearing what’s good for you and what isn’t
Why do you still have to be so stupidly stubborn?
You’re wrong, just face it.
Your heart is a useless lump that pumps hot red blasts through your body
That splashes pink across your face and lips
And catch his eye.
But don’t say I never told you, no don’t you dare say I never told you
That this silly little love story would end,
That it wasn’t even a love story to begin with.
Hell, it wasn’t even a story -
Just a ****** poem written in a lost-in-the-rubble diary that’s falling apart.
Yeah, I told you so.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
She’s a mystery,
A mosaic of broken pieces and complications,
Experiences he’ll not soon understand,
All sewn together by strands thin as spider’s web.
She's something fragile
Yet has walls so high.
He’s determined to knock them down,
One by one.
She hardly ever speaks,
All her thoughts are secrets that she keeps.
Slowly, gradually she’ll give away pieces of the puzzle
For him to put together.
Gently she does this, quite possibly terrified
That he’ll run away, in the end.
She doesn’t know that he wants to put the pieces into place,
That he’ll trace the scars, smooth the seams,
Until she doesn’t want him anymore.
And that is what he fears,
That one day, he’ll be too much for her,
And she’ll retreat into herself again.
Just like the way she turns on her heels
When their paths split.
She says “See you later,”
Never goodbye,
And always turns to look back at him
When she thinks he's not looking.
But one day, she might just leave without a sound
Walking pointedly in another direction,
Away from him
And never look back.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 7:36 PM UTC
I hope I haunt you
In the darkest hours of the night
Or the brightest moments in the sun
By the shore
In a car
Or shaded grass…
Feeling feelings that we felt
Reliving the moments
Hearing the words
Wishing it didn’t hurt anymore
‘Cause it’s been so long.
When you see someone from a distance
And she looks vaguely like me,
I hope your heart skips a beat
And your feet miss a step
And your breath catches in your throat.
When you realize I’m not there,
I wish your stomach to drop
And your head to hang
And your forehead to crease
As you fight tears.
And maybe this makes me a horrible person,
But all I want is for you to know
How I’ve been feeling
Since you’ve been gone.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
Standing in the sand,
My feet sunken into the softness,
I feel a sort of longing,
As the waves kiss my ankles,
That is more than the tug
And release of the water upon the shore.
I lose a bit of myself,
Feeling pulled to the ocean,
That is more that the grains of sand
Scraping away at my skin.
The foamy waters come
And take away pieces of my soul,
And with each wave,
I feel a greater desire.
The roaring of the sea
Seems to call my name,
And I look to the distant boats with envy,
For I wish to be in their place.
Looking back to my feet,
Feeling the water come and go,
I draw patterns in the sand
That disappear, quickly erased.
And I think how much that is to life:
A force that lets you create
Then takes all away in an instant,
Leaving behind a blank slate.
I draw a heart
And I smile.
But just like that,
It’s gone,
With only a vague imprint
That, too, fades.
And so I draw a conclusion,
Standing here upon the shores of time,
The call To Be is strong
And unavoidable,
But, in the end,
The sea will erase it all,
Leaving a faint shadow to call memory,
Which is doomed to disappear in the horizon.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
Wisps of memories grace my mind
Like a cold mist in the morning
Upon my skin.
Phantom sensations of lips and hands,
Threads of touches that grazed my face
Make me smile.
A voice deep and comforting in tone,
Whispers of sweet words ringing like echoes
In my ears.
Images of you, fading and blurry,
Stand where you stood, smiled where you sat
In my mind’s eye.
Dreams of fantasies that never came true
Haunt me as I struggle between what was
And what wasn’t.
Wonderings of where you are now,
How you feel, and if you think of me
Often or never.
Realizations that goodbye was inevitable
And hurt because you disappeared so quickly
Like a ghost.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
Shouting a hello to a dark and empty room,
Hearing my cry echo back to where I stand
Alone without friends in the space of my mind
Facing the harsh truth that my soul demands.
I look for sunshine even though I only see grey.
A level deep within takes pleasure in the despair
Of the vast empty sky, bereft of warmth and light.
Sitting here I loathe that which I feel I cannot repair.
Curled up on the bed, clutching the sides of a hollow body,
Wishing for comfort, for a companion to understand,
I know that I’ll be right here again tomorrow,
Even though there are some willing to lend a hand.
Because this darkness has become familiar,
Making it a comfortable, though destructive place.
I unleash the usual wealth of tears and hatred,
For frustration with who I am and who I’m not is a losing race.
Rubbing at the itchy tearstains on already-red cheeks,
I remind myself that I am not alone and that I am strong.
But I no longer wish to believe that for how can it be true,
When I’ve been crushed under this weight for so long?
Pain is a feeling, which is better than feeling nothing.
Crying for a faraway love, for feeling lost in my dreams,
Shattered under the expectations of others (and of myself),
Spiritless, with no motivation to sew the torn seams.
Ironic really, how this feeling can hurt so much,
Yet be craved with an incredibly forceful need.
Like an addiction, knowing that it is wrong,
But still I always choose the mind-numbing ****
For it takes away the hard reality of life
Allowing an escape into a world surreal.
Because that seems better than the truth
Of a world that I can no longer feel.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC
It’s horrible, you know.
Not having a home, I mean.
My feet want to grow roots, and just when they sprout, I have to rip them up
And start the process over again.
The place of my childhood is not where I belong anymore
It is comfortable in an odd, other-worldy, dream-like sense.
The place I now sleep will be different tomorrow.
I am a nomad, with no place to call my own.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t desire a safe place to call mine.
Home is where the heart is, they say.
My heart belongs to no one.
Not anymore, anyway.
I used to believe that I had given it away,
But I hadn’t,
Or maybe it was thrown back at me
I can’t seem to remember.
But I still feel the pain, and I remember that I don’t want to remember.
But in my dreams I can recall it all.
They are like nightmares, reminding me that I don’t belong
And that running won’t save me.
I wish I had a home, a heart to call mine, friendships nearby,
And a warm fire to bring life back to my weary bones.
But it’s raining now, and I need to find shelter.
So I’ve got to go,
I doubt I’ll return.
I won’t ask you to remember me,
Though I’ll remember the empty space that you might’ve once filled.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
He said he’d come.
He promised he’d be the one.
And I believed him.
And here I sit alone,
Staring out at the gray sky
Thinking and wishing for him.
This is the first time,
The first time I've wanted to fight
For love.
I've waited for too long.
Hanging on to what they tell me
Are empty promises.
But I don’t believe them.
I believe him.
And I sit alone.
He’s the only one
Who steals my thoughts,
Who understands.
And I believe that he understands,
Even if they doubt him.
I trust him.
But time passes.
And I realize I cannot wait forever,
Even if I wanted to.
So the doubt finally begins to form.
Is this meant to be, or not?
I wonder as I sit alone.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
Stars shoot across the midnight sky
And the drunkards shout outside my window,
Screaming about nonsense that I don’t hear,
Because I am dreaming . . .
Behind my lids lies blackness,
But in front of my eyes I see wonderful sights;
I am an adventurer, strong and fearless.
I have wings.
I am me, unhindered by this-worldly chains -
Chains like time and space and gravity
(Which together are quite a tragedy) –
Watching as the universe unfolds.
Suspended in mid-air, haunted by places of the past
And impossible visions of an invisible future,
I see faces familiar and faces strange,
Mixing the stages of a conscious life.
Snuggled in the warmth of my worn blankets,
I feel the comfort of your unseen arms around me,
Holding me tight in my dream-world bright
In a corner of indiscernible dark.
I watch as the plot unwinds and thickens
And disappears again to a timeline surreal.
But the adventure grows stronger and the will more determined
And I watch more vividly as my consciousness begins to stir.
But before the war is won and the kiss received,
Before I say the words unspoken,
Before I die a victim of tragic death,
The wish remains unwished.
My eyes open and I’m left to the sound of alarm
And the light of a morning too bright.
My heart is beating fast, captivated
By the wish it made that can never come true.
A smile alights my waking-up face,
Remembering fondly the adventures of my mind.
But the day is to begin and will take from my memory
The dream that has already disappeared.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC