In this story,
I don't want to be the princess,
I don't want to be saved by a prince in shining armor.
I want to be the person saving you,
and in turn,
saving myself.

And in that moment I wished for nothing more
Than my lips on yours
And you didnt have a clue.

Do any of y'all really know me?
Can you see who I am from my poetry?
If your answer is yes, you're wrong
Even I don't know where I belong
When people ask who I am
I say I'm 26, a mother, a poet,
I basically just read my bio
But you've all read that too
Does that mean you really know?
A friend told me lately
To stop being so humble about my poetry
I don't like to come off sounding cocky
He says I'm **** good at what I do
But not every poem is about you
Not every word is always true
Sometimes, they're just words written in ink
To give you an idea, to really make you think....  
But my poetry doesn't define me
Doesn't show you who I am inside
Sure, you've read about my heartaches
And all the nights I've cried
But nothing I write,
Can show you the inner workings of my mind
So, please don't think you really know me
Based solely on all my posted poetry
Because, to be honest, I'm not even sure who I am
And I know me, better than all of you
But please continue to read and comment
Because I'd love to know the truth
About what you all really think of me
Honestly, y'all have really helped me through

I have loved you too late,
Beauty so ancient and so new.
I have loved you too late.
You were with me but I was not with you.
I was away from you, running after the beauties which you have made.
The things which exist only through you kept me far away from you.
You have called, cried out and pierced my deafness.
You have enlightened me, and my blindness is
   banished by your brightness.
I have tasted you and I am hungry for you.
You have touched me and I am on fire with longing to embrace you.

~
      
           If
            I
        Could
         Find
           The
            Rhymes...
    Would
         You
             Be
                Mine?

~

No matter how much of an open book you are
people will still read what others wrote on your back.
They don't see the scars there or the pain you felt
No they are hidden beneath this leather
They only see the number of stars you've been given
Not the the real world you live in.

So please, do this for me
I won't even make you open my book,
I just ask for a non-judgemental look.
A moment for you to rest your mouth
And learn what i'm really about.