Your imitation of human behavior is almost seamless,
But I can see beneath your skin to the cold metal interior holding up your cheekbones and making you stand a thousand feet tall.
You have power over me I didn't think you'd use,
And yet you add insult to injury
Pulling my insides out of my body to show others
You see, with you nothing is private, sacred.
I can't seem to clean my body of your dirt.
Every time I think I'm clean, I find another crevice filled with you.
I find another tear I can cry for you
I find another piece of me where you've scrawled your name to claim
But your only purpose in claiming me is humiliate me
Because I'm a just a piano and that's your way of playing me

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.

He   will never know me
Just  his arrogance
His   conceited brow
His   norm fitting hubris
He    lacks the color
of     blood
The  fathoms of gold
The   luster of soul
If     there are no feels
So     do you too

The worst way to lose somebody is to be, in his heart, ordinary; to be his luxury turned duty.

And the things he do, he does them to keep up with you, but not anymore to keep you.

This is when you'll know you've lost him. This is when it will hurt. But only until this you'll know you've loved deeply.

Your lips would blister with prayers for his return, but no poetry in the world could touch his soul and guide him back to your arms--

none unless the words are yours.*



P.S. *You'll only truly lose him when you start to think that maybe after all, you've never truly loved him. And that is also when you'll lose yourself-- to your own make-believe.

I used to wear my makeup to bed in hopes of waking up beautiful.
I used to dream of what my life would be like if I captured the glances of everyone in the room.
I still do.
At first glance, I see beauty, but after lingering just a second longer I can no longer find it.
It's as if my confidence has melted away to reveal the sad, scared little girl, too anxious to properly say her own name or correct others when they say it wrong.
The girl who was afraid to leave a memory in the mind of her peers for the fear that they'd reach into her and rip out her weaknesses.
The girl who shook off every boys' advances as she got older thinking they'd ruin her life that hadn't yet begun.
I speak quietly because I'm not sure I'd like to be heard.
I'm not sure my voice is even worthy of their attention.
I just wouldn't like anyone to know that sometimes when I'd wear my makeup to bed I wouldn't want to wake up at all.