I'm in
English class and I'm supposed
to be
reading some
story
about Sir Gawain,
but I think
that poetry
and
music
is teaching me
more.

I want to fall in love with
a poet/hippie
who loves me
back and who
writes poetry that I get
and
understands that I stay up all night
shoving the nightmares
away.
Somebody who smokes cigarettes, so we can argue about the little things.
Get drunk with me, get high with me.
But not all the time,
we'll have each other.
Let's do silly things, let's mini golf and cook and love and
be lovers.
And hold me tight.
And please. Please.
Please mean it when you say that
you won't go.

I keep reading these poems
about love,
fresh love, new love, true love.
But all I can think about
is how
sad, beautiful, heartbroken
these poems will be
when that
love
ends.

Something aside of the things that have come
falls on your head and you're suddenly numb

Waiting for nothing, there's nothing in sight
no one can tell you to pick up the fight

So many voices are carrying words
even my own become lost, go unheard

It's taken me longer perhaps than it should
to let understanding wash over the good  

I need the water as much as you do
I'll take a sip and the rest is for you

If someone offered you a burnt rose you would scrunch your nose up for sure

It would be frail,weak and lack so much allure

It would be black and crumble between your fingers

You would cringe and the hurt would linger

Who wants a burnt rose lost of colour or a pleasurable sight

No one,you give someone that out of sheer spite

So I ask again,who wants a burnt rose that will crumple with the wind?

That the bees stray away from and the birds refuse to sing.

Mother nature forgot that rose as fire consumed it

Everyone forgot as the rose swiftly lit.

I trust you

I trust you

But what good is that to me?

I watch you

I watch you

Trying my hardest not to breathe

In such a such time you mean so much

Now I've lost the way,what was it I wanted to say.

I'll show you my scars I've been hiding for so long

I'll tell you of all my pain and how it stung

I'll bleed out to you and you can watch me cry

Because eternally I watch myself die

I'm afraid though of all the judging you will do

Because I can never no if ones feelings are TRUE

I'm tired and weak gazing at the stars

As I unconsciously rub my scars