i wrote you a letter the other night.
draft after draft
i shoved into my drawers-
this isn't what i want to say.
this isn't enough.
why isn't this enough?
i couldn't sleep because the words
the words kept eating me alive.
they've made a home inside my feeble
feeble lungs.
my ribs hug them-
keep them warm and snug-
remind them to stay.
i inhale "where-are-you-are-why-aren't-you-here"
i exhale "    "
my words
they sit
and sit
and sit
(i mean, where else would they go?).
i'd tell them to you but there's this thing called distance
between us;
i'd tell them to you but you're right in front of me.
so instead i wrote you a letter the other night
in hopes that maybe one day i'll understand.

I saw it twinkling in the night, so I reached up towards the sky. I wanted so badly to catch it in my hands, but the universe wouldn't yet comply.

I thought of words that made my heart skip, but none more then the ones you said. Stars so brightly circle me, possibilities fill my pretty head.

Scattered about so endlessly, astrology beyond what I can see. If I catch this shooting star, maybe fate will leave us be.

It passes by a moon we share, that casts an eerie glow. Mystics relics can't reveal, something our hearts already know.

I close my eyes and catch that star, plucked it from the night. Now I Kneel on bended knee, wishing with all my might.

I don’t want to read anything about or

or from Maya Angelou

I don’t want.

I don't want to be sad

I know she must have been an amazing person

No, she had to be an amazing person

but I only heard her name once or twice

once or twice

in my life time, in her life time

So I don’t want to be sad that she is gone

That I never knew her

I don’t want to be sad

I don't want to be sad about not reading her material when she was alive.

Not knowing

I just don’t want to feel that way

Not knowing her

Rest in peace, beautiful human being.