she would need that, wouldn't she?
to slow down
I never slow down
when I ski,
I don't turn
I rocket down the slopes
snow trailing in the frozen air behind me
cold fear in my heart
as I pick up speed
but I don't slow down
I never slow down
I like to live fast
hard
in the moment
one punch after another
breathe breathe breathe
**** air into my lungs until it hurts and
leaves no room for second guessing
for anxiety to creep in
I run to keep up with life
feet pounding on the pavement
mimicking my heartbeat
and I don't slow down
I never slow down
I'm not so good at continued commitments
I'd rather just do everything all at once
hours of work
I could have easily done gradually
crammed all at once
and I don't think before I speak
I say what's on my mind
though I often regret it
and I don't slow down
I never slow down
because if I slowed down
then life
would catch up

At a young age
Us girls learn
That the theft
Of our choice
Our pure untouched skin
And our freedom of deciding
Who gets to touch it
The theft
Of our innocence
Our youth
Our ability to say no
That theft
Is less punishable
Than the theft
Of a man's wristwatch

Dizzy daydreams echo in my head
As I utter words that will only ever be
Half read
Systematic syllables that ring in your ears
And mindless phrases that sit in a gap
Trying to fill a hole they do not fit into
Words words words
A weapon so many wield like a sword
Or a shield
I am one of those people
One of those people that could talk
And talk and talk and talk
Until my throat is bleeding
And your ears screaming
And the world rings with words
Yet
I will have said nothing
It's frustrating
To never be able to say what you mean
You wish you could craft a word
But then you could only describe it with words that have already been written
So it would defeat the meaning
Wouldn't it?
Pondering existence in places mundane
As a sidewalk covered in chalk
Typing away at keyboard
Until you have reached 157 words
But you are still not satisfied so you continue to write
169
170
171
But you have still not said what you meant as words echo in your head that Might describe this feeling countless ideas and emotions
That cannot be written
That will not be written
So they sit alone in the dark
And try to light a match

I wrote a song once
About a girl
With chamomile eyes
It wasn't about the color
It was about the feel
The way her eyes seemed to embrace you
To wrap you up
And hold you
And protect you
You are not that girl
Your eyes
Are nothing like that
Your eyes
Are a dark
Deep brown
Sharp
All edges
Daring me
Pushing me
Teasing me
Your eyes have a hint of laughter
And contradiction
A cool brown
That can cut through me
When you are mad
Relentless and so, so impassive
But make my stomach drop
When you give me that look
You know the one I'm talking about
It's all eyes
All tilt of the head
Twist of the lips
As they curve up
In a teasing smile
And the ember
In the brown ashes
Of your daring eyes
Makes me weak

People are made of paper
Some are colored real pretty
Eyes bright with highlighter
Lips emboldened with sharpie
And some people are the sketches in the corner of your notebook during class
Some people are made of construction paper
Others flimsy white printer paper
Some people are adored and hung on walls for everyone to see
And others are ignored and tossed in the recycling
Isn't it strange?
To think that people
Who are made up of the same things
Can be valued so differently
I mean, how different are we?
We all can tear
Some already have, and are taped in several places
We can also fly
When the wind catches us just right
Drifting away on the breeze to unknown lands
We all can burn and crumple and disintegrate
But we can also be folded and shaped and painted
We can be ironed from a crumpled sheet of paper
To an origami swan
We can paint away our mistakes into a beautiful work of art
It's not too late to change
After all
Under it all
We are just sheets of paper
Waiting to be reborn and recycled

I have fingers that linger
on surfaces
and a heart
that lingers
in the past
fingers that linger
in your hair
and on your shoulders
fingers that reach and stretch
and touch
and a heart that lingers
when my fingers
are done lingering

There is a strange
Tingly sensation
In my stomach
When you are near
And when you speak to me
Or touch me
A sensation often described as butterflies
But they are not pure enough
To be butterflies
Because I know you don't feel them as I do
So they are moths
Moths
Because they are crowding your light
Moths in my stomach
Flying up
And up
And up
Through my windpipe
Choking me
And trying to reach you
And your blinding
Fluorescent light