She knew exactly what she was doing
when she stared into my soul.
She was looking for the emerald
I have been hiding from the world.
So I shut my eyes before she cracked the code
and I ran in the empty, black maze holding onto my treasure.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 5:59 PM UTC
I'm goner.
Spit one last splash of lukewarm words out
and I'm a solid rock on my bed.
You see,
I whisper words out to the world
like the way you'd sing to a plant,
silently so as not to be overheard,
but hoping that a soft tune
will make it grow.
I speak to you
the way a child asks the stars
for his wish to come true,
considerately, moderately,
shyly, greedily.
And then I shut my eyes.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
Can we please take a moment
and give it away
to the fray heart
that needs to unwind?
Wrap it in green and blue
construction paper
with yellow ribbons
and tape a pink note
and write on it with
a red sharpie,
write:
"Let's make music"
and beat, ba-beat together.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 11:57 PM UTC
Dear Facebook lovebirds,
I get it. You like each other.
But seriously, just stop.
If you want to tell someone
you love them,
that you're nothing without them,
that you'd die for them,
send them a message,
or better yet, actually tell them
face to face and savor the embrace of the moment
because if I see another post
about your immortal love
I'll remind you of its mortality.
Sincerely,
Someone who's heard it before
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
I'm hungry.
That's not a metaphor, I just really want to eat something.
The end.
Jk, it would be cray if I just said that and left.
I just really want to eat something
but at the same time I'm not desperate.
My stomach isn't growling.
The inner beast in me isn't howling.
I'm not famished. Should I be
before I stare blindly into the fridge?
Yeah, there's no soul-staring here,
just a nonchalant rant about
a girl who just really wants to eat something.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
Write me a poem.
I'm tired and beat,
so please make it short and sweet.
Make it happy
because I need to smile.
Make it happy
because you need to smile.
Write it for someone else,
but let me wear their shoes.
Take me dancing
and let's waltz to your words.
Please write me a poem.
Thank you.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
Tidy room, tidy mind.
Logical, is it not?
We splash our life onto the canvas of our bedrooms.
Our dreams escape onto the walls as we sleep.
Our feet drag the dirt of our adventures on the floor.
Our desks are hidden under papers, pencils, a calculator, papers, a spoon, a comb, and two large hands ransacking the surface looking for a misplaced paper.
I like my room in the mess of sense I understand but maybe mom was right. I have to reorganize my room. I have to reorganize my mind
to clear the pathway between my bed and the door, so I can have a new vision and spend time looking for the right things.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
Finals.
They're not as bad as I make them out to be.
Teacher just wants to shake my mind,
have the deposited chunks of knowledge
bounce inside my brain and
dissolve into my thought juices
so I can taste the big picture.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
The leisure of the clear mind
calls me like sirens.
Yet, I have not reached land thus far
and if I give in, I shall be devoured,
not by the sirens, but by myself.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 8:23 PM UTC
Everybody writes about love.
That's probably a good thing.
We all know it's been said before,
felt before, screamed, sung and hummed before,
so what?
Life's been lived before.
Fruit bowls have been painted before.
Delicacies have been cooked before,
but none of them really taste as good
as the ones that melt on my tongue.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC