When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

Yes,
I think it is an unrequited love.
But not the way you would usually think.

I guess I don't "love" them,
But they're my best friend.
I just don't think they like me,

I just don't think I'm their best friend.

So yes,
I think it is an unrequited love,
But not the way we usually think.

Take a step back,
I bet at one point
You never thought you'd get to where you are
Right now,
Whether its good,
Or bad,
That means you've already moved in life,
So just keep moving.

He was kind,
Funny,
Cute.
He had done some things,
He'd messed up,
But nonetheless,
He was him.

She wasn't special
Or worth his time,
She'd messed up.

He said he loved her,
But it wasn't true.

And before they could even make a move,
She knew he lied.

So they left it there,
Untouched.

She remembered,
But she wished to forget.

He'd moved on,
After all, lies don't last.




One day maybe,
She'll forget.

One day maybe,
He'll remember.

I'm beginning to feel as empty as my room when you left.
I want to fill the space,
But it hurts to try.
I think because I'm scared,
That if you come back,
That when you come back?
You won't want a room
That isn't yours anymore.

Its been forever.
We don't talk much anymore.
I kind of miss it.

Time is a tricky mistress,
I'm sure of that,
Full tricks up her sleeve.
But the truth is,
I didn't expect this.

I don't put it all on her,
I don't put my feelings all on her.
But I do place the time on her.

Some people grow apart,
Some people grow parallel,
Some people grow perpendicular,
And some people grow together.

I don't know how we grew,
But it feels like we've been growing together for a while.
It seems only our tricky mistress, Time, will tell,
But Time seems to have a thing for surprises

I hate being held down,
Or someone thinking they have control over me.
It makes my knuckles twinge,
And my face burn.

Why would someone else control me,
Want to tell me what to do,
I don't even control me.
So who, in fact, are you?

You aren't my mother,
You aren't my father,
You're merely a friend.
But don't get me wrong, I don't want our friendship to end.

But it feels like you're smothering me,
Trying to chain me down,
Rip off my wings,
Or ****** down my crown.

But I won't let that happen,
So I'll cut the chains you've tried to use,
And I'll keep my wings above your reach,
And I will hold my head high,
And I will guard my crown.

I write but I don't know why.
I never wish to share it with anyone I know.
I don't wish to try and learn to write,
Nor to try and pursue a career.
So why do I write?

Is it really all to send a message?

You used to joke
About us only being acquaintances.
You used to claim you didn't know me,
With a smile on your face,
And it was some dumb, fun game.

But now,
I'm starting to feel like,
You weren't joking in the first place.
Maybe only I thought it was a game.

Sometimes feelings can be hard to interpret.
Its you, but you still can't tell what it means.
Maybe thats part of being human,
That we must be unknowing,
In almost all aspects of life,
Even our own.

I just wish,
That I could figure it out.
Figure out why I pushed you away,

But seem to miss you more everyday.

I don't think you really like poetry.

Actually,
I don't think you'd like my poetry,

Because even though you wouldn't be able to tell,

My poetry is almost all about you.

Its 4:29 in the afternoon,
But it feels later.

The sun is still up,
But the blinds are drawn.

Its still warm outside,
But I'm wrapped in a blanket.

I still have stuff to do,
But I don't have the energy.

Maybe I will later,
But not right now,


And thats okay.

Hidden under countless sheets,
Behind lock and key,
Like I'm scared they'll see.

I really do love poetry,
The way it feels to write,
To feel.

But I find myself embarrassed,
When in conversation,
A poetic stream slips out, free across the screen.

I don't know why I fear it so,
Or hope that it would go,
But I wish I didn't feel like this.

It's true that it's poetry I miss.

I hate this feeling,
Deep inside my gut,
That makes me feel like bleeding.
I wish my mouth would shut.

That when I want to look,
My eyes would turn away.
And then when I feel shook,
I realize its my fault, I should pay.

The night is here.
But in some way,
We are not.
It's almost as if sometimes,
Just sometimes,
We begin to feel as though maybe,
We aren't viewing the same stars,
That there are an infinite number to choose from.

And though thy are in thought,
You still avoid the thoughts,
Of how small you are in this vast universe,
And that maybe you and I,
Are not seeing the same stars.
That perspective is all and everything.
That no,
That beautiful blue star you see so brightly,
Among the millions of others,
Only seems to catch my eye for a moment.
A fleeting glimpse of what would be,
Could be,
Can be,
Won't be.

Yet still dreamers dream,
Thinkers think,
And sleepers sleep.
Because all in all,
Not everything will have some deeper meaning,
Some great devotion,
Some unknown message
That is screaming itself from the rooftops and the mountains.
That maybe a poem is just that,
A string of words with seemingly poetic rhythm.

So as time continues moving,
And 4D creatures in a 3D world continue breathing,
May we all continue counting stars that are in the past,
And continue breathing the air that's been with us for centuries,
And continue writing seemingly meaningful poetry,
With strange endings.

I've grown tired,
This is getting heavy.
My body may be young,
But my soul,
The part that is ME,
Is old.
It is ancient.
It has risen,
And it has fallen just the same.

But what it hasn't done yet,
Is finished living.

I hate to admit it,
With all my heart,
I hate to admit
That I'm scared,

That I'm scared of everything,
Even admitting my own fears.

I'm still young,
I know I have time,
I'm probably not even a quarter into my life.
Yet I feel like time is running out.
I want to grow up,
But not because I wish to throw out my childhood,
To leave the safety of my nest,
To jump into the open world.
Truth be told I'm scared.

But for some reason I wish to age.
To have a job,
To live by myself,
To try independence-

I want to fall in love,
I want something more,
More than ***** high school romance.
I want life.
I want to live.

And although now I feel empty,
Hollow,
Lonely,
I know I won't be one day.
Or at least I hope I won't be.

Like rocks in my stomach,
Pulling me down,
I feel such guilt,
But I don't know how.

I do this accidentally,
Every single time,
I always type so hastily.
What is wrong with my mind?

When your mood changes,
I feel so weak.
I know its my fault,
And I almost wish to weep.

I never want to make you hurt,
But I worry that I do,
I wish that I was there,
So I could show that I cared for you.

And every time you end up sad or mad,
Or somewhere in between,
I get so nervous that its over,
Lost for eternity.

I don't know how to apologize,
Other than to say I'm sorry,
But I know its not enough,
You deserve more.

I wish I could give you more.

Hot breath warms her face
As it settles in thick blankets
Making it harder and harder to breathe.

The rest of her body feels chilly
As a fan circulates cold air around her,
But her face only grows warmer.

As she tells herself all the things she doesn't want to hear,
Yet would feel incomplete without,
The heat only begins to rise,
Swelling from her eyes,
Like thick globs of lava,
Crashing into the tightly held blankets.

She opens her mouth,
To tell herself to stop,
That she has no reason to be this upset,
That shes embarrassing herself,

But her throat fills with hot air,
And she lets out nothing,
Only sobs,
And hopes that tomorrow is a better day.

You give soulmate a new meaning.
Love and care and companionship,
But in a friendly way.

Someone who will hold me,
While I cry on their shoulder,
And pat my back,
And lay their hand gently on my neck,
To let me know they’re there.

Someone who will laugh with me,
Who will run,
And leap,
And fly across the sun kissed sky with me.
Ignoring any responsibility.
We’ll land so far away,
In an old weather-worn bay.
We’ll dance around the creaky boards,
And scream louder than the silence,
Our voices as high as our bounds.
And then we’ll leap again,
To a place long forgotten.
Where the vines have grown over,
And alive is the dirt under.
And we'll play in the grass,
And rejoice in the sun,
And bask in the starlight,
And we'll know everything is alright.
We'll be sure everything is alright.
And then we'll lay under the moon,
And we'll talk without words,
And the wind will whisper,
Its alright.

Hand in hand,
Certain emotions go.
Like passion and envy,
Or anger and jealousy.

Like red and green,
They compliment each other.

Passion that fuels the envy.
Full of fire and frenzy,
Pulsating out.
The envy creeping in with tendrils,
A seething mass of resentment and desire.

Anger that provokes the jealousy.
Raging with pain and misery,
Seeping out.
The deap jealousy pooling,
A grasping puddle of hurt and greed.

The ocean is vast and wide
Seemingly unending,
Like the metaphors that it can be used for.

When I'm lost,
When I feel that everything is overwhelming me,
When inspiration has left and you're all I have,
When all that exists is the place between tears and land,
When I feel hopeless,
When my mind no longer wishes to be dry,
I can turn to my dear ocean.

Although far away I know you're there,
And I worry for you,
For your health.
I know it gets dangerous,
Oil,
Trash,
Humans.

But stay strong ocean,
Us writers wouldn't know what to do without you

You are a poets dream,
The whole ocean,
All wrapped up,
Right in your bloodstream.

Wavy hair that covers your head,
Crashing like the waves,
Hitting the soft sand.
Literal beachhead.

Your eyes are an easy connection,
Blue like the ocean,
Meeting the sky at the horizon,
Bright like the sun’s reflection.

Deep as the sea,
Full of things we haven't reached,
We don't know too much about it,
But truth is, we enjoy it all the same.
And as deep as the sea you may be,
You're still a treasured friend to me.

I wake up,
Birdsong filling the air,
My unfinished homework
Who had watched me sleep unaware.
My phone unplugged,
Dying faster than I am.
And me,
Curled up,
Wrapped in content loneliness.

Poetry,
Its a relationship with yourself,
It's something you've poured into,
Released your emotions,
Entangled them in understandable metaphors,
And buried them in verbose language.

My muse taunts me,
One second they'll be there,
Guiding me, I swear.
But then without even uttering farewell,
They leave me there alone in my uninspiring cell.

Sometimes they leave me for so long
I begin to forget they're there,
So I try it all out on my own.
It works I guess,
The puzzle fits,
But its just there's something wrong.

I know now that they're there,
I felt it, I felt it I swear.
But I don't know who they are,
And I don't know where they are.
But I know,
I know they're there.

I just have to wait for them to open the cell door.

What you said to me,
I promise I'll see you again,
Is a promise I hope you'll keep.

Up and down,
Thats the way life turns,
Round and round,
Like a swirl of water in a bottle.
Like a bottle.
Like I bottle.
Bottle it all up deep inside.
Until the bottles burst,
Until the stress is pouring out of my ears,
Until my head is just full of glass shards
And shattered emotions.
And I'm just left frantically running,
Pacing,
Like a chicken missing its head.

And so I tell myself to pour it out,
At least till I can clean up,
Find some new bottles,
Feel some new things,
Before we start all over again,

Because the bottles will have fallen.

I wish you were my muse.



Or rather,
I wish you knew you were my muse.

You told me
"You could do better."
But all I could think of was
"Why would I?"

It smelled like summer.
Like sunscreen and sweat.
Like earth and rain.
All of these things mixing together in the air.
So yes,
It smelled like summer,
And yes,
It was beautiful.

Today you mentioned a video,
I hadn't seen it before.
You hastily pulled it up on YouTube.
You handed me an earbud and hit play.

We watched that video,
Then another,
Then another,
Then another.
It seems like we haven't laughed that much together in a long time.

Then you pulled up a another video,
I'd seen this one before,
You'd shown it to me a while ago.

But I didn't mind,
I like spending time with you,
I like laughing at dumb videos,
And talking about memes we've seen,

So I didn't say anything.

I just let it play.

White dots,
Limp limbs,
Pooled blood,
Lost heart.

I'm tired of writing about love,
So this poem is different,
Instead I'll write something new.

I won't write about it.

About how I miss you,
The feeling bubbling up inside me,
And spilling out in the form of nostalgia.

About how I felt when you said those three words,
My emotions clawed at each other,
Trying to jump in and play,
Yet trying to hold themselves back.

About your promise to see me again,
And how suddenly my mind was in the clouds,
Wishing we were there together.

No, I won't write about it,

I'll write about something new,
After wanting to write about you.

Here,
Here I am.
I’ve always wanted to be
Here.
But not for long.

Talent is relative,
And mine is falling.

So I’ll be sent back,
Into confused arms.
They will welcome the love,
Though they will not understand it.
Why am I there?
Why am I not here?

I will try to fit in.
Return to my group of youth,
Look to find it and see it gone,
Remnants scattered everywhere I can see.

I will look for open arms,
That closed for me a long time ago.
And once I am alone again,
Which way will my mind go?

Wandering through mixed messages,
Solace will be found,
Buried,
In greying memories of me there,
Until they become memories of me here.

And then I will repeat my cycle,
My human cycle of dissatisfaction.

For what you miss there,
You will miss here.

The night is here.
But in some way we are not.
It's almost as if sometimes,
Just sometimes,
We begin to feel as though maybe we aren't viewing the same stars,
That they are too infinite.

And though thy are in thought,
You still avoid the thoughts,
Of how small you are in this vast
universe.
That maybe you and I are not seeing
the same stars.
That perspective is all and everything.
That no that beautiful blue star you
see,
So brightly among the millions of others,
Only seems to catch my eye for a moment.
A fleeting glimpse of what would be,
Could be,
Can be,
Won't be.
Yet still dreamers dream,
Thinkers think,
And sleepers sleep.

Because all in all,
Not everything will have some deeper meaning,
Some great devotion,
Some unknown message that is screaming itself from the rooftops 
and mountains.

That maybe a poem is just that,
A string of words with seemingly poetic rhythm.

So as time continues moving,
And 3D creatures in a 4D world continue breathing.
May we all continue counting stars that are in the past.
And continue breathing the air that's been with us for centuries.
And continue writing meaningful poetry.

I get that I need to move on,
But I wonder if you still think of me,
Like I still think of you.

Poetry is strange sometimes.
In the way that I'll write a poem,
Words flowing freely from my fingertips,
About all of it.
But when I read it now,
It almost feels like its about you.

Except I think you'd like my poetry.