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Mae Lahlee May 2015
H is for the question:
How the hell did I get here?

O is for the Ocean,
What I always search to find.

M is for the Moments,
Especially the small ones
That you least expect.

E is for Ever,
The amount of time that
I'll  be content on the road.

H is for Having some extra receptor  
That makes my quench for
Questing Impossible to fill.

O is for Organic,
The way it feels
When I explore something new.

M is for the Memories
That I can never forget.

E is for extraordinary,
The quality of my life.

H is for Home,
But not in a traditional sense.
Copy write: Mae Lahlee
Mae Lahlee Apr 2015
I use to find butterflies
In my stomach when I saw your face.
And id dream every night
Of the sweetness of your embrace.

But then you messed it all up,
Stupid, typical, selfish boy.
Playin, rippin, tearin at my heart,
Like a dog with a toy.

And there ain't no chance
Of you getting me back now.
Going back to you would be
As helpful as being hit by a plow.

To go back wouldn't be good at all,
And you're just the same as the last.
I've had way too much chasing, never finding.
I'll leave my heart alone in it's cast.

So I'll favorite your tweets
and I'll like your pics.
But don't think it's any more,
Because boys are really just a bunch of...dummies
  Apr 2015 Mae Lahlee
samantha neal
I doodled a mini solar system on my homework today
It made me think about your eyes.
I want to travel through space and never come home
Go to the moon and never worry about the absence of gravity because your mind pulls me in just the same.
Mae Lahlee Apr 2015
Woah, I think there's a
roller coaster in my mind,
Bunches of Sporadic thoughts
With one congruent disguise.

Pop pop poppin up
all over my head
And they're pop pop poppin,
shootin us dead.

My ideas, they're killin us,
They're surface feeders.
Eating the truth
Like tasty hour d'oeuvres
Mae Lahlee Apr 2015
I was in love once.
But it was such a long time ago,
I've begun to wonder if it was all in my mind.

Yes, there's been others since then,
But they always end in the same type of motions,
It seems to me the strangest paradigm.

Always starting with a vague sense of hope
A longing to feel a way again,
But then simply failing most definitely.

The longing for the feeling I adore,
Overpowers the longing for another's mind.
I don't even know if my heart can still hold something of that capacity.

And what  if I don't want it to?
Isn't it great to be free?
To leave all the cares behind, and live by the tide?

But wouldn't it be great to be free again?
To reside at the limit of happiness
Merely by being with that person you admire?

Even then, how could you ever know if he felt the same?
If a heart doesn't break even,
Surely it can't love equally either.

If my longing for him is greater than his for me,
What does that leave me to do,
Once his power is stronger than any other?

Or maybe it will never come to matter,
Because all these conflictions are secondary,
What I mostly fear would be much greater.

What if I can never feel that way again?
What if I've wore down my sensitivity,
And grown rock hard to the possibility of these feelings?

Maybe it's a lack of patience,
And maybe it's a complete inability.
And maybe I should just accept the reality that I may never fully connect with another human being.

Oh, what have I done to my heart.
Mae Lahlee Feb 2015
The wind holds my hand.
A wandering soul,
Surprise is my plan.

The breeze sets me free.
The only thing I need
Is my mind and my feet.
Mae Lahlee Jan 2015
It doesn't matter.
He doesn't matter.
Nothing matters, because to him,
It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter
That when I hear his name, my gut still aches.
It doesn't matter
that the girl he is with I wish was really me.
It doesn't matter
that I know these feelings might actually be fake.
It doesn't matter
that I'm obsessed with an idea and not what I really see.
It doesn't matter
that every time I get close to uncaring, the picture of us

(the one where we're content just staring at each other, or maybe the one where you're crying because you fell in love with me on accident)

is back in my head.
It doesn't matter
that he's different, that I'm different. That we'd be different.
Maybe better, probably worse.
It doesn't matter
that I will never be able to find out.
It doesn't matter
that I'm counting down the days till the anniversary of our split.
Because maybe (hopefully, probably not) on that day, I'll snap out of this caring.
It doesn't matter
that we agreed we hoped we'd find our way back to each other.
It doesn't matter.
But for some stupid reason,
It ******* does.
Copyright: Hannah Mae
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