You played me like a game.
For five months I fell for it.
Then you say you like her.
She lives so far away.
Yet you still are flirty with me.
Then I tell you how I feel.
I knew you felt the same way too.
But you left me for her.
You broke me.
I cried for weeks.
I still loved you.
I hoped you would come back.
Then I moved on.
Your relationship with her began to fade.
I hope you'll love me again one day.
Otherwise ill find someone who loves me more.

Ungraded roads have many holes,
Gravel, and running ditches.
Before a rain, they seem more wide than narrow.
Long but terminal.
These roads I'm led to roam,
Not straight, but bending to travel.

Signs warn of deer or bumps,
With a bridge dead ahead.
Chances are, it's a single lane,
And timing dictates crossing.

My spinning wheels clear the ruts,
But soon they fill again,
As if I never passed.

You think you know every little crack, every crevice in my soul; yet there is so much of my life’s book that you haven’t read. My hair is a carefully styled mess, strategically placed static, and my lips are what they are- lonely. Sometimes I think you wonder about who I am, my origins; I can’t say that I don’t either. How’d I end up as such as mistake? You love me for what you say are perfections, yet you see not the real me, you see the front I put up, my acting. How can one be addicted to a person who doesn’t even know themself? Yet loving you makes me want to learn.

We both **** the life, the very being from each other; yet it is still not enough. I want to hook myself to you like an IV, to pull the gold running through your veins into my conciousness and let it light me. If there was a way to evaporate your essence and save it in a bottle for later, I’d be the scientist who discovered the way to do it. The very scent of you carried on the air from yards away is enough to register me for a few centuries in an asylum. You say you barely wearr cologne, and I understand it. You wear yourself, a fragrance I wish I could rub all over myself every second of every day, every time I curl up in a ball on my bed after you drive home at night, wondering why it is you can’t just stay.

You belong to the road, you’ve sold your soul to the feeling of the wind in your hair. I can’t break your contract with independence, but I can tag along for the ride. Seeing you so happy, getting your racer’s tan, blaring the radio until the speakers want to scream. Why can’t I partake in your happiness? I wish there was a way for us to share the love for the world that you have; in its’ place in my mind is loathing. The only reason for living I have is you- and all I ask of you is to answer this one question; how have you fallen for this fallen angel, the outcast of society, the girl whom everyone forgot to remember and who you didn’t remember to forget?

I want to Bless you my Family.
Just like each of you have Bless me.
Anytime you want to message me.
About Prayer request or just to talk.
Let me know, for each of you have Bless me.
By being the person that you are.
For by being you, your poems Bless me.
I really am very thankful for each of you.
So allow me to repay you back love you all.

For no reason other than kindness, find a weary soul. Extend a helping  hand with no want for repayment of any kind. Lift up that life to a better place and set them on stable ground. Then watch them flourish and become a source of enrichment to others, through the fruit that will be born of what they have become because you took time to care.

all we have to separate the mind from the body
is light and dark: the reaching of god’s hands

over the world. i imagine that even the sun
asks be tucked in at night. & how could god refuse

another bed time story. a chance to be heard,
a chance to say “I know exactly why you exist,

why you need to be touched just to make sure
that you are still here.” we are not all light.

i know a boy so empty his father’s fists
       pass right through him as if punching the dust

from his ribcage. his broken breath a reminder
       that he still has something to lose in this world.

& i know a father broken and praying to a god
       he cannot recognize as his own,

holding the darkness in his church-shaped hands
        which soften in daylight

he kisses the blood off his stained glass knuckles
        & prays for morning. his god is heavy with

the weight of history, with the burden we know
as genesis. but how could the body, light and vulnerable

refuse to touch darkness. how could the body refuse
        to know that it is still here.

Oh such a laughter ever heard,
As high and sweet like a bird.
From across the room,
And to end all doom.
Full of music and love,
As beautiful as a dove.
It'll spread from one to a million dots,
And'll make you shoot lots of basketball shots.
It'll make you feel greatness and successful
And'll make you sad, less and less.
Oh, don't tell me you know you need it,
But by bit
It'll be really great,
Like a game when you need a break.
If your heart has a hole,
You'll pay a million goals,
For such a priceless thing.