I pile stuffed animals on my bed
Seeing stuffing instead of red
Clinging to them tight
They know how to hold me right
Back to childhood
Where everything was always good
No scars to bear-nothing to fear
And smiling ear to ear in a mirror
Reveling in the scent of those days
I snuggle close and everything else dies away
With what's left of learning our letters
Hoping as we get older that everything gets better

I wonder what it would be like
To get drunk with you for just one night
To forget about everything in our past
And everything that could or couldn't last
I wonder how it would be
If we tasted smoke while kissing
To get crazy with no one around
And talk without muttering a sound
I wonder what you would do
If you knew I felt nothing for you
That I found a new temporary fix
And honey, you're not it
I wonder why I can't stop wondering
With the lack of regret I'm harboring
Along with the creeping love for someone else
Maybe I'll just keep this to myself

Words do not a writer make
Nor poems nouns or prose
But the heart that breaks for breaking sake
Beyond calling Rose a rose

It's not the nouns or adjectives
Or strings of sappy lines
It's seeing love where nothing lives
And seeing darkness shine

A writer sees beyond the words
But sees the great divide
Between what heart says and what is heard
Never satisfied

A writer does not fill the page
With words that others need
But the page the page is the stage
Where their emotion bleeds

Of the things I think a writer holds
You may disagree
But if your heart is moved to words so bold
A writer you may be

he's almost great
and i'm almost dead
why can't i just take a step
and repeat words i've never said
i'm not hung up on anyone else
no one but myself
and my fears
so insecure
if i can't love myself
how can i love him?
i want to-i do
i swear, i do love you
but i don't feel it
not in my soul
i could say it
without a second thought
but it would be a lie
and he doesn't want that
and neither do i