No more swirling violent waters to drown in.
No longer will there be nothing but air beneath the soles of my feet.
Being fifteen made a fool out of me,
It felt like every person was in the right direction,
armed with the courage and faith
to seek the dream they are so sure of.
While they knew so fully well what was ahead of them,
I was without a map, searching for a compass desperately trying to find North and South.

It was scary, it was beautiful, it was emotional.
How do I describe youth in its purest, rawest form?
Do I call it a thunderstorm or a spring shower?
Was it an avalanche or were the snow flakes descending around me, landing ever so gently?

Fear is synonymous with youth, yet a year later,
I realised my fears are now unfounded.
No more fears to live with,
No more nightmares to dream alone in the night.
When I feel terror again, lost and without the briefest sense of direction,
I have learned to build bridges.
Never will I fall again
To the violent waters that threatened to engulf those who are young and careless.

My fingertips
on the piano keys
You took a seat
next to me
Made a joke
that made me smile
And then you stayed
to talk a while
If thoughts could speak
then mine would scream
As we flirted I wondered
if it was a dream
On a smudged make up day
When I didn't care how I was dressed
I sang you a song
At your request
Trembling badly,
I finished with a major chord
Nerves were churning
and emotions roared
A pretty silence like crystals
Your eyes on mine
Stuttered words
I got just fine
You asked for my number
And I said sure
I typed it In
And asked who you were
You gave me your name
And shook my hand
Leaning across the
Black baby grand
Your hands are shaking! You said
in tone rather sly
Still typing the number I grinned: you make me nervous!
The bell rang and we said goodbye
It felt like a movie scene
At 3:17 you
Texted my phone
A perfect chance at something new


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Please comment I love to read interpretations of my work and really any other thoughts you may have :)

You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.

Five people in one day
Have asked me the same question
And I can’t help but laugh
At such a wild suggestion
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
They query in confusion
“I would have thought you would by now.” they say.
I’m amused at their peculiar delusions
“Why don’t I have a boyfriend?” I repeat.
Wondering what they’d ask such an obvious question for.
I turn to them, with a puzzled look
“Well, have you MET me before?” :D

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Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! 

maybe it is true
maybe I'm too young to feel so blue
it's this foolish need of feeling something so real
it won't make me doubt my existence
this need to feel the skin upon my bones
to know that I'm here

but it's so futile at the same time
this need to feel present being only satisfied by another one
why can't I feel it by myself?

one day I'll wake up and say "I'm here"
and I'll mean it

one day

She met a boy
And she's in love
Her mother disapproves

Her mother says he's trouble
But she adores this boy
He's someone she'll never lose

Forbidden to see him
She meets him in secret
Every single night

He calls her many
pretty things
They keep their affair out of sight

The boy she loves
Has killed a man
Police are on his trail

She has a choice
To hide her love
Or watch him rot In jail

In the dead of the night
She leads him to the house
Through the creeky back door

Gun still in his hand
The pair tiptoe
Across the kitchen floor

Her mother finding out
About this situation
Is among her highest fears

They sneak up
to her bedroom
And she bursts into tears

What have you done?
She cries to him
He shoves her onto the ground

Tells her to shut up
Curses at her
Warns her not to make a sound

There's a pounding on
The door they came in
She follows him down continuing to cry

The stranger he owes
Stalked him here
And tells him to pay or die

Her lover's gun fires
The stranger falls
****** and still as a rock

They turn to see her mother
Who heard voices and came down
Her eyes filled with horror and shock

Without even flinching
Her lover aims his weapon
And says she's seen to much

Her mother's screams
Echo off the walls
She's bleeding and cold to the touch

Sobbing at her dying mother's side
He shoots her too
Saying I'm sorry it had to end this way

Then leaving them both
To die alone
Her "lover" runs away

Father comes down to his ****** family
She whispers Sorry daddy
He calls 911 and they all wait

But by time they arrive
Just like her apology
It simply is too late

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Please comment! I love to read any thoughts you have on my poetry or poetry itself as an art! :)

You’re crawling on the tips of fiery flames
You’re dancing with the shadows.
There’s no way back
You’ve gone too far
You’re creeping along
a bloodstained path
and it just isn’t fun anymore
not the same thrill to be the only one
“brave” enough to leap off the ledge
And tumble into a chasm of eternal agony
You got lonely with only the silence to talk to
Truthfully
You used to like this feeling
Like a sense of empowerment
Because no one suspects the secrets you keep
But there comes a time
When you don’t want
To keep these secrets anymore
You don’t want to feel strong enough to face the pain
You just don’t want the pain there anymore
You’re crawling on the tips of fiery flames
You’re dancing with the shadows.
There’s no way back
You’ve gone too far
No.
There’s always a way back.
There is no such thing as too far.
And I’m back.

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Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry or your thoughts on my work or on poetry itself as an art! 