It has a way of talking for my father.
Whenever I ask a question, it has the negative response
waiting for me.
Like a snake coiled up in it's own spite against all things enjoyable.
It started talking for him when I was very young.
Daddy, help me ride my bike!
No.
Mommy, where did daddy go?
No.
Mommy, why is daddy in jail?
No.
Mom, who is this man in the house?
No.
Dad, I haven't seen you in a long time.
How are you?
No.
Dad, I have an awards banquet for school.
Do you want to come?
No.
Dad, my friends mom said she could smell the alcohol on you.
Were you drinking tonight?
No.
Mom, why is dad in jail again?
No.
Father, please stop yelling at me.
No.
Father, I have called you 10 times. We're at the restaurant for my 16th birthday. Where are you?
No.
Father, please don't drink today. It's my graduation.
No.
Father, your cough is bad. Please go see a doctor.
No.
Father, please be safe. I love you.
No.
Father, where are you? We found your car. We're worried.
...
..
.
Mom, can I look at father before he is lowered into the ground?
No.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
Alright so you know how if every color was in it's perfect form and they were all combined perfectly, they would make white? And how if just a small portion was off, it would turn black? Well, i think that's how love is. If you have every component (passion, caring, listening, selflessness, affection, attraction, interest, the list goes on forever) in its perfect form and at the right amount, I think it makes love. And if people get in fights, they're taking away from one of those components and distancing themselves from love. I dont know, it's a weird thought and I'm tired but I think thats what love is. Thats what our love is. I wouldn't want to make white with anyone else. I love you.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
A piece of you
Reflecting back
The bitter words in your mouth
Too raw to speak
A poet is
Someone in pain
And someone in love
Someone who looks at the world
Through a kaleidoscope
Who takes a magnifying glass to each
And every
Word you say
And lets them imprint on their heart
A poet is
A star gazer
A dreamer
A chaser of
The improbable
But hopes anyway
A poet is
Tissue paper skin
A heart of glass
And a soul of titanium
A poet is
A sharp tongue
And a gentle kiss
She is a sob
He is a sigh
A poet is
The sun at midnight
Bright and
Burning
Hot
Alive
But cloaked in a darkness
They cannot shake
The brightest day
And the darkest night
A poet is
The human experience
A paradox
An oxymoron
So complicatedly
Simple
A poet is
A lover
Who refuses
To stop wearing their heart on their sleeve
No matter how much it bleeds
But rolls them up
So you can’t see
The blood stains
A poet
Is Poetry
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
It's days like this
where I remember
the time we have
spent before the ice came.
I remember when
I tried to calculate your age
by the coffee rings in your mug.
I remember when
you used your finger as a brush
and my back as your canvas
while goosebumps were our medium.
I remember when
I was admiring the beauty in nature
while you were admiring the beauty in me.
I remember when
you found the key to my secrets
and I have never asked for it back.
I remember when
I woke up in tears from a nightmare
and you fought off the monsters.
I remember when
you said that if I was an illness,
I would be worth catching
After everything is said and done,
there is no one more magnificent
than you.
I wish I could've told you this
before you drove away.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Today, you asked me why I only capitalize the L in love whenever I write it for you. Every other letter has to be lowercase because my love for you deserves to be a proper noun at least.
Last week, you asked why I want to stay with you forever. I just told you how there was no one who taught me how to value myself besides you.
In the future, you will probably ask why I almost always hold my necklace when I kiss you. I will explain that I have to have my hand by my heart in case it tries to go to its rightful owner.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
The first time I realized I was in love, I walked to my room and started crying. I felt like I was shot in the stomach and left there to die. I felt so vulnerable. I would've rather just laid on my floor for the rest of my life asking, "Why did you do this? I like being alone."
However, after I spent more and more time with him, it made me feel warm like a towel fresh out of the dryer on a cold winter day. It made me feel protected like the teddy bear in my bed. It made me feel comfortable like tea and a good book.
He makes me feel alive and dead at the same time and I don't know which is better. Alive to feel the emotions, or dead to forget all of the worries I have ever had. I hope this never ends.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
Fell so hard
Fell so quick
Didn't ever think
That I would slip
Into love.
There was a surge of happiness
And a jolt of laughter
The constant kisses
The happily ever after
I would rest my head on your chest
And feel your delicate heartbeat
You would hold me in your arms
And you would be part of me
My heart always jumped
Whenever I saw you
This pounding thump
What has this come to?
Because you took that thump
And tried not to drop it
But lost interest
And instead you popped it
Then later the truth came
That I didn't mean anything
Because you loved someone else
And used me for many things
I stopped listening to the same music
Stopped reading my books
I was a walking corpse
You could tell from my looks
I had messed up hair
And black under eyes
My wrists had cuts
And so did my thighs
You were very vain
In thinking it was all for you
Little did you know
I had other problems too
You just added the last bit of snow
To the avalanche that planned
The incredible falling
Of the girl you had ******
But I am still living
I am still breathing
I'll never be the same
But I will be leaving
You don't know when it's coming
You don't know when I'll go
But I'll make sure I say goodbye
For my final act of my show
My leaving may not be dying
But leaving this god forsaken town
And traveling far away
Where in freedom, I'll drown
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
She possesses the delicacy of a rose when she smiles.
The world looks like a better place when reflected off of her glossy, brown eyes.
The color of her eyes is filled with love like her iris just produced a symphony of strength all strung together by the final kindness found in this world.
Her freckles are kisses from God for every time she is sad.
Her lungs are a pair of symbols crashing together in harmony with her soft, snare drum heart.
The beats are rhythmic with the love that surges through her veins like lightning.
Oh, her mind! How I envy such a place. It comes off as dark and relentless, but deep inside, it is artwork that refuses to have an owner in order for people to feel what they will.
She is nothing less than Mount Everest, but not limited to her beauty, strength and height. She is remembered for the people willing to see all of her. Her streams, wildlife, and scenery.
The true beauty beneath the pictures.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
The first thought I
encountered was ,
this poor girl
does not eat.
As our friendship
developed into
more than
I ever imagined
it would
I discovered she
did indeed eat.
When I
say eat
I mean more like
demolished all
that
was presented
before her.
Her sometimes
sickly appearance
was caused
by the problems
she kept hidden
behind a
locked bathroom
door.
It seemed the
porcelain hollow
had an appetite
for her insides.
Like a devoted
worshiper
to its Pagan God
she gave up her
offerings after
completing
each and
every meal or
even a snack.
Her sickness
clouded
her image
of herself.
I told her
she was
beautiful.
She called me
a liar and told
me to never
come back.
So I
did'nt.
There's only so
much you can do
for the sick until
they themselves
are prepared to
fight.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
I give credit to the pleasers of this world.
They know the trick of manipulation.
Whether it be with words or with touch,
they always form to the molds of the others desires.
They know how to make everyone happy.
I don't even know how to make myself happy.
In fact,
I don't even know how to finish this poe-
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC