i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much

Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

Since the day I met You I knew You were no ordinary girl. It's not because your hair was more colourful than the northern lights or because your smile was so dorkishly adourable.

You see I would never really get nervous around girls, and I already knew you for a couple of years so the thought of there ever being something died a long time ago.

so I still cannot understand why when our hands interlocked that Wednesday morning, in that empty feild with nothing but us and the crickets, You managed to transform the butterflies in my stomach to pterodactyls, the frog that was once in my throat has been swallowed by a tyrannosaurus.

You made the feelings of a first crush come back to life, I relived it over and over until first crush was changed to first love.

But when you kissed me, when you kiss me the creatures in me became prehistoric. Their bodies burnt away with nothing but remains left behind, And their bones were used to build the foundation of the feeling that I still have today.

You know most people say when they have a special kiss they see fireworks, but girl when I first kissed you I saw a meteor shower.

Did you know I loved you
when you left, last fall?
I didn't tell you
but, I thought you saw.
Now, you're not that far
still you never call.

I'm happy now
well, I want to be.

Sometimes, I wonder
do you think of me?

One hug can collapse
my inner galaxy,
bringing me to the verge of tears.
Till I push them back
confused
by the strangeness
of my own madness.