Scientifically, we are made up of a combination of atoms that somehow resulted in spinning minds and thirsty hearts, soft skin and aching bones.

I heard somewhere that if the atoms of an object could spread far enough apart, we could pass through anything.

If we are merely atoms, I suppose I spread mine so far that you passed through me.

You came through me, you hit my bloodstream and God was it a rush.

My atoms reacted with yours and it felt like they started to merge into one.

I felt you become a part of my spinning mind, my thirsty heart, my soft skin and my aching bones.

I spread myself so far so that you could really see who I was and before I knew it you had passed through me.

My atoms are tinged with specks of yours and I can't get you out of what makes up who I am.

This is why I miss you with all that I have.

Homesick in my own home because home isn't a place,
It's the feeling of belonging and those who make me feel so live so far away.

Homesick in my own town where I was born and raised,
Homesick for the people that I love, for the people I wish had stayed.

Independence has a nice ring to it-
The cash register when I pay for myself,
The ding of the doors I open on my own.

I don't need anyone to be whole anymore-
I filled my potholes with my own hands,
In my own ways.

I found a way to be alone and be okay-
Though the nights can get long
And I miss trailing kisses trailing to the bedroom.

I can open my own doors and pay my own tabs,
Though I miss opening up to someone else
And independence has a price to pay;

The cold nights can't be filled by anyone
Because one night stands, friends with benefits
Won't fulfill the small void not even my own self could achieve.

I surely don't need anyone to survive,
But that doesn't mean I don't want someone,
Or yearn for a hand to hold other than my own.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You shed tears.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You curse out loud, give voice to your fears.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You think of all of the things you haven't done yet.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You ask Him if this is a safe bet.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You dream of the day you'll be free.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You just try to stay calm and breathe.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You're afraid of falling asleep.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You know what you want others to keep.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
There are people you want to forgive.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You wonder how long you're going to live.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You loathe what you can't control.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
No matter how many blankets you pile on, will you still feel cold?

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You remember your first kiss.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You understand you'll always be missed.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You struggle with regular tasks.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
Your face no longer resembles an emotionless mask.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You let your emotions show.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You think about the time you'll have to go.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You're satisfied with your life.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
Is there anything you'd be willing to sacrifice?

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You stare a yourself in the full length mirror.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You wonder when answers will become clearer.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You think of your loved ones.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You reminisce on hunting and guns.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
Your parents talk to you.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You just want to start anew.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You stay optimistic.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You let it all go and become ballistic.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You're tired of taking all the pills.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
You feel death's constant chill.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You read like you always have.
I wonder if behind closed doors,
This all makes you ****** mad.

I wonder if behind closed doors,
You fall to your knees and pray.
I know that behind closed doors,
We're all happy you're here today.

When you go, open my closed doors,
And please watch over me.
Because when I'm behind a closed door,
I'll be waiting for you to comfort me.

Who gives a **** about your first love.
Give a big round of applause for your second love, because they taught you that love still exists after you never thought it could again.

Airports make me anxious.
There is too much going on, too many gates and times and delays and people.
They are ***** and crowded. They make me feel small and tiny, iridescent.
They are good for people-watching and spending too much on rather cheap food.
Airports make people obnoxious. People forget their manners as they scramble to the flight that they're already late for, bumping into me along the way with no apology offered.
Airports are huge, massive. Their size is daunting to me; I can so easily get lost and deviate from the path that leads me to the correct gate.
Airports are lonely. Nobody makes eye contact anymore with strangers, so I'll sit alone and read a book and maybe drink some tea or coffee, occasionally looking up to see if anyones looking at me.
Frankly, I do not enjoy airports. But I enjoy you.
So I will sit in an airport someday, sitting cross-legged and reading near a window. I will listen to some music and ponder whatever comes to mind until my flight arrives and it's time to board. I will board my plane, leaving behind the bothersome airport to come see you.

They say that just because someone doesn't show affection in the same way you do doesn't mean that they don't care or love you.

I believe it. We can't all be silent lovers, we can't all be screaming it from rooftops either.

I understand it. We're all different people, with differing tactics and ideas of what it means to love and care.

But **** if I don't know any better way to love than to tell someone what they mean to me, to always kiss before I leave and kiss hard, nothing soft and forgetable. I don't know anything better than drunk calls confessing how much I like you, or loud laughs at your stupid puns.

I don't see love in quiet embraces and glances and iridescent, see-through compliments. I don't see it in tolerance. I don't see love in those things.

I see it in 2 am talks when you're tired but hell, maybe I like you more when you're half-asleep in my bed. I see it in scratch marks down my back and hands grabbing at my hips. I see it in consistent, small efforts. What you do every day says a lot more than what you do every once in awhile to me. I see it in the little reminders and notions that I'm on your mind, that I'm someone in your tangled, messy brain.

I need something tangible. I can't love someone with my lips closed unless they're closed by yours in a kiss. I can't love anyone who can't shout it back to me. I can't feel for someone who only feels my skin with his finger tips, and can't make me feel any other way. I can't do that kind of love.

So, everyone shows affection differently. I'll paint it in the sky for you, shout it from rooftops and proclaim it for everyone to hear. I'll write you and kiss you in the rain and make you breakfast and whisper "I love you" when we watch movies and tickle your feet and admire you naked and press you against a wall. I'll tell you you're beautiful. I'll love you with all I have.

If anyone out there loves with all they have, then maybe we could disregard what they say, that everyone shows affection differently, and show it how we know best-

*Loudly, openly, compulsively, whole-heartedly.

There are boys that cry,
There are girls who have dry eyes.

There are boys that dance or play volleyball,
There are girls that wrestle or play football.

There are boys who drive VW Bugs,
There are girls that drive trucks.

There are boys that bake,
There are girls that shred.

There are boys that like the Notebook,
There are girls that like Transformers.

There are boys that are romantics at heart, looking for love,
There are girls that aren't into flowers or love songs.

There are boys with hair to their knees,
There are girls with shaved heads.

There are boys with diaries and journals full of memories,
There are girls who have no desire to write down all the details.

There are boys with names like Aubry,
There are girls with names like Sam.

There are boys with insecurities about their bodies,
There are girls who don't weigh themselves ever.

There are boys with eating disorders,
There are girls who work out for the ideal 6 pack.

There are boys that prep endlessly for a date,
There are girls who take 5 minutes to get out the door.

There are tidy, neat boys,
There are messy, whirlwind girls.

There are boys in dresses,
There are girls in baggy jeans and a pullover.

There are boys who shop endlessly,
There are girls who can't stand the mall.

There are boys that talk about their emotions,
There are girls who would rather not.

There are boys that look after the kids,
There are girls that work full-time.

There are boys who are nurses,
There are girls who are engineers.

There are boys who cook,
There are girls that change the oil in the car.

There are boys who are complacent and subordinate,
There are girls who are dominant and overpowering.

There are boys with no desire to get it in on the first date,
And there are some girls who wouldn't mind if they do.


And those are all okay. Gender stereotyping only limits what you can and can't do. Let the boys cry and write poetry and eat chocolate when they're sad and talk about their feelings. Let the girls be aggressive and wrestle their buddies and play ball and drive sports cars. Let people do as they please. You're born as you a are, you can't decide what gender you are. You can decide what you do with your gender though, or rather what it won't keep you from doing. Your gender is only an aspect of who you are, don't let it dictate your actions to appease a society that has deemed what is and is not okay for you to do simply because you're either a guy or girl.

There are boys and girls that can grow up to be what they please, do as they wish and speak as they will. Don't be the one to tell them otherwise.

A bowl of seeds in front of me remind me of you-

I had to cut through thick skin and peel it away just to get at the good stuff.

It didn't stop there though-

I had to pick and probe, inspect and search for remnants of the thick skin so when I sink my teeth into the fruit, I wouldn't find myself with a bitter aftertaste.

Red stains my hands and counter tops, just trying to coax the sweetest part of you out.

A bowl of seeds in front of me reminds me of you-

The seeds are sweet yet soon gone, and epehemeral sweetness doesn't mask the bitterness of skin I couldn't get past, skin I couldn't peel away no matter what.

My skin is speckled
With small, dainty brown spots
Formed by genetics and
Too much sun exposure, too little sunscreen over the years.

Someone once called them angel kisses,
Indications where lips can fall
And rest momentarily,
Just as the angels did to create them.

They freckle my body
Like stars plastered across the sky;
Randomly placed, no real order.
Like ornaments, they are little imperfections to decorate me.

If you'd like,
If you'd please,
Kiss them one by one,
Connecting them into constellations.

Trace your lips along the spots
To form the Big Dipper,
Libra and Orion's Belt.
Your lips become thread this way,

Weaving through these marks
To sew me up, keep me together.
Your lips created a stitch,
Making me your personal constellation.

I'll shine as bright as those stars,
Gleam and glow in the dark as you kiss the spots
Across the landscape that is me,
Your lips ignited them into constellations,

And I'd never felt so *alive.

You promised to take me to the woods and sleep with me under the stars,
You promised me an adventure,
And by God you took me on one-

You weaved me through forest just trying to find you,
Searching for your remnants in the fallen leaves and branches scattered across the forest floor
You led me to a tall tree where I could carve our names into the wood, as selfish as that was,
And deface beautiful Mother Nature because I thought our love was also as breathtaking as she.

Our love was breathtaking-
You whisked me away and ran us to the tops of mountains.
You took me to peaks where I felt alive,
And valleys where I felt so down to earth I could've melted into the paths we paved
The same way I did every time your arms wrapped around my waist
And your head rested on my shoulder,
And you whispered in my ears about how you didn't want to be anywhere else.

I jumped rocks and cliffs with you,
Falling so hard and fast the same way I did
Any time you looked at me with those patient eyes,
Any time you found the time to hold me and love me in any way you could muster.
I fell into water and your sea eyes any time I jumped;
You made me fall so **** hard.

You took me to the edges of sunsets
That never rivaled the way your smile shined
When I told you I loved you,
Or rivaled the way your face looked when you laughed.
You had Mother Nature beat when it came to beauty.
You had me beat when I tried to find a reason to be upset you never actually took me on an adventure like you promised,

Maybe because falling in love with you was an adventure all in itself;
You left me blistered, aching and sore.
But I left you with the world in my eyes, the sea dripping from them,
The mountains weighing on my heart
And the shores soaking my soul because venturing into your world meant I had left my own,

And it took me so much **** time trying to find a path back to mine.
You took me for one hell of an adventure,
And the paths you treaded left footprints in my heart
That are blown away but aren't forgotten.

You promised to take me out to see the sights and walk the world-
Falling in love with you took me for an adventure that you didn't plan for,
And one I couldn't sustain much longer.

That's the thing about you, us, adventures-
They're thrilling and beautiful,
Breathtaking and wild.
They come to an end though,
And the adventure you took me on stained me with a sense of wanderlust you'll never come to see or know.

Don't have a wishbone
Where your backbone ought to be,
They told me, so often.

See, wishbones are meant
For Thanksgiving dinners where
Two children break it

In half to see who
Gets the first turkey leg,
or something like that.

See, wishbones aren't strong.
They aren't reliable, strong
Enough to support you

When what you ought to
Do doesn't comply with what you
So dearly wish for.

If you lack backbones,
And have a wishbone for a
Spine instead, you should

Get to breaking that
wishbone right out of your mind
And body because

At the end of the day,
A backbone is all you have
When wishes aren't your

Reality. No,
A backbone will keep you up
Whereas a wishbone

Will break easily,
As easily as your heart
Will when your wishes

Do not come true. A
Backbone is something you ought
To have instead dear.

You're a tornado-

You spin madly around and sometimes carry things off with you. People and objects fall into your vortex and spin around madly with you.

You spin yourself dizzy, to the point where standing still sometimes isn't possible because you might have forgotten how.

You hit the earth below you and blaze a trail ahead, leaving your mark wherever you go.

You rustle leaves 100 miles away and send some flying just as far.

Sometimes you feel like a tornado-

You jumble things up and feel like when things hit your path, you run through them and scatter them around.

You spin so fast that no one can slow you down, that you're always spinning on your own and finding someone that could adjust to your spin is one in a million.

You never stop spinning because that how your mind works; it spins day and night, endlessly. You're always spinning new scenarios and thoughts in your turbulent mind.

You feel like you may destroy people you run through, and sometimes they try to tell you to spin a different way or cease to spin at all, and that hurts. They don't understand that if you don't stop spinning, you may just cease to be who you are all together.

When I say you are a tornado, I mean well-

Not everyone looks at a tornado and sees what I see.

People see chaos, destruction, instability.

Sometimes I know you see that in yourself.

Sometimes I see it in you too.

But as a tornado, you have what others don't-

Someday, someone will step into your storm and be your calm.

They won't be afraid of who you are, like you are sometimes of yourself.

They'll see what the luckiest people in your life see in your storm;

Absolute beauty, uniqueness, individuality, empathy.

Not everyone can see the beauty in a storm-

It takes a special eye, and a special kind of person to love you.

Not because you're undeserving, but because you're different than the rest.

You're one of a kind, that's why no storm has the same name.

It's why no storm hits the same ground. Every storm differs, but there are only so many.

So when I say you're a tornado, this is what I imply-

You're scary to some people you're powerful and provoking and interesting.

You will sweep someone away someday.

Someone will look at you like you're the best thing to have hit his life, literally.

Someday, a man will be able to see the beauty in your storm and spin with you, always by your side.

You're a tornado-

You're one hell of a sight,

Unmistakably one of a kind,

Wild, crazy, enticing and beautiful all in your own,

With a storm inside of you that someone is going to find someday, and that person will be dizzy with how different you are, and will ultimately get swept away by you.

I promise.

Seaside escapades
Up and down beaches,
High tide and sun rise-
Where my heart chose to stay.

Evergreens and dirt ground
Trekking trails, running down hills
Jumping off rocks into the lake-
This is where my happiness was found.

Pass time outside,
Where time ceases to exist
And all my worries fade away-
I continually wish this is where I woke, where I reside.

Honesty is the best policy,
One we've chosen to abstain.
Honestly I'd rather you be honest with me;
Walking on eggshells we could refrain.

Tiptoeing around so we don't step upon the cracks in our floors,
Holding our breath tight so we don't breath in the thick truth-
God forbid we just speak honestly anymore,
God forbid we let all of the unsaid thoughts loose.

Honestly I can't say I know you like I once did,
And that's absolute fact.
All because we have absolutely forbid
Ourselves from a backtrack-

Backtracking to when we could actually talk without thinking before speaking
Or worrying about what we have said.
No worries of the truth leaking
From our honest hearts and heads.

I don't want your meaningless quips,
Your aimless remarks.
I prefered the small notes on slips,
Our conversations in the dark.

Honesty is the best policy,
A policy we tried and found true-
A policy we have declined to upkeep,
A policy we once knew.

Get down on one knee to tie my shoelaces before you get down to propose.
Lead me up a mountain before you have my father lead me down an aisle.
Hold my hand to steady my balance before you hold it as we drive across town.
Show me the world before you give it to me.

There's a lot to see, and I intend on seeing it all.
If you are lucky, maybe I'll want to travel your veins and thoughts and heart as much as I want to travel this world.
Maybe if you come with me, I can see both;

The world around me, and the one I could have with you.

Subtle hints here and there
Do you think about it, do you care?
Subtle hints dropped on the floor
Do you do this anymore?

Subtle hints intertwined in your words
So subtle, I'm not sure of what I've heard
Subtle hints left to be found
So subtle, maybe they don't make a sound

Subtle hints scattered about
The subtility leaves me with doubt
Subtle hints creeping upon me
The subtility is binding, I cannot flee

I cannot shake what subtle hints imply
I'd rather you be clear
I cannot comprehend your gossamer cry
What are you trying to say dear?

Make sure your heart isn't heavy from unrequited love,
Or from love letters with "return to sender" staining the front in dark, black ink over your own meticulously crafted words.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy from holding onto lost causes,
And too full from tears and whispered curses when you're holding yourself at 2 am.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy when you lose someone else's,
Or when you see them walking down the street hand in and hand with another and you might just hold your own so that you don't feel too lonesome.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy with the weight of the world
And everything you've ever felt too strongly about.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy with regret or hatred
Towards anyone who did you wrong and left you heavy hearted in the first place.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy-
It'll weigh you down to the notion that you can't reopen it once the incisions have healed.

Make sure your heart isn't so heavy
That you fall to it's weight and forget what it means to be light.

Make sure your heart isn't heavy-
It'll lift you in more ways than one.

The end of summer rolls around,
As do their suitcases and bags
Down hallways and airport security,
Headed to the next destination.

The end of summer comes too fast,
Like the hugs you receive as someones leaves,
As they walk away and drive off,
Headed to the next best thing.

The end of summer is melancholy;
The sun fades faster than how many friends remain
Because they're all ready to run away,
Headed to the beginning of their new lives.

The end of summer hurts my heart
In the same way goodbyes sting my eyes
Because my friends are all leaving,
Headed off to grow and learn and achieve it all.

The end of summer is more than a season to me;
It's the end of the line for my friends,
It's the end of seeing them whenever,
Because they're headed off to make something of themselves.

And for that,
I'll watch my friends leave
With the heaviest and proudest heart.

The end of summer may take them away,
But it can't take away how much I love them,
With every ounce of my heart.

Distant in miles,
Distant is space,
Though my love will withstand it all;
That is something distance cannot erase.

I don't tell people often enough
That I love them
Because love can fade,
"I love you" doesn't always suffice.

Rather I say thank you.
I say that I'm thankful for their existence,
Their existing within my own life,
Because sometimes I don't love the people I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for people I can't love,
People I don't allow myself to love,
And people who love me in odd ways.
Love isn't always so grand and welcoming.

I'm quite thankful for the people
I don't love, and for the ones that don't love me.
We've played teacher to one another,
We've taught lessons, tested out the material, finalized where we all stand.

So thank you to plenty,
I'll tell you I love you if I do,
But more than anything I'm thankful-
Thankful for your reciprocating, or lack of, love too.

Losing people can
Be like losing a blindfold;
Once they're gone, you can see.

Losing people will
Cleanse your eyes,
But furthermore, cleanse your sight.

Losing people sometimes
Allows you to see
That you lost yourself in finding them.

Losing people sometimes
Means you can find someone better;
I hope you find yourself.

I'd stay up late to write poetry, talk to someone I care a lot about, watch a good movie, listen to a new album, look at the stars, ponder my life, walk around my neighborhood, wait up for my dad to get home so I can tell him I appreciate how he works late to support my family.

Then again, you won't see me stay up too late to finish homework these days. Granted I'm a senior and homework was never too much of a priority in the first place, but I just don't care enough. Homework doesn't fill me like poetry or nightly walks do.

My point is that the things you care most about, the things you are passionate about keep you up at night; these things are worth losing sleep over. These things override your basic need to sleep, and if that isn't an indication to what is important to you then I don't know what is. Because on a lighter note, sleep is pretty high up on my list of "Things I care about".

Your veins allure me,
The way they create currents in your skin
Along your arms.
I ponder what makes your heart beat so fast
That blood pumps through them faster than it should.
Where have you been cut?
Can I slide into one of the slices so I can swim your veins
And be a part of you?
Can I nest in your heart and make a home there?
You've got permanent residence in mine,
Because have you seen yourself?
You're as beautiful as the sunsets and oceans and trees and beyond what the all magazines say.
You're as alluring as the veins in your arms that rise up in your skin.
Let me in, let me swim your veins and mind.
Can I make your blood pump?
Will your veined arms hold me?
I'd let you into my blood stream
If you'd let me into yours.
Can I make your blood pump?
The way you have no idea you're utterly breathtaking sure gets mine flowing.
If you ever feel a slice again,
I'll kiss at it until you've healed
And I'll show you my scars too.
Your veins allure me,
But dear, the rest of you keeps me 'round.
When you're ready, I'd love to trace your veins with my fingertips
And then my lips.

You shine brighter than stars on a moonless night.
You shine brighter than a lighthouse on the coast, guiding ships to shore.
You shine brighter than a firefly, emitting light with all his might,
You shine like an erupting volcano, bright from the core.

You shine like glass catching rays of sun,
You shine like a child on Christmas day,
You shine like a flashlight creating hands into shadow puppets for fun,
You shine like a sunset, upon the horizon, ready to fade.

You shine, you truly do.
You shine from your heart, through and through
Your entire body and being-
You're the kind of shine I've been seeking.

You dipped your toe hesitantly into the water and pulled it right out.
I was already in, swimming freely as I forgot you were still on the shore.
I'd always taken to skinny dipping over bathing suits. I like the freedom, I like the way my bare skin feels in the water.
I turned around to see you looking out at me on from the shore, a hand over your eyes to shield them from the glaring, blazing sun.
I dipped my head below the water up to my nose, so you could only see my eyes as my hair fanned out over the water.
I could see it in the way you stood there alone- you were unsure. You were scared. The way you fingered at your shorts and the way you moved your hand from shading your eyes to instinctively rubbing at your hairline said it all. You were petrified of diving in like I had.

I used to be like that too.
I used to sit on the shore as the sun scalded my scalp and peppered my shoulders with little brown spots.
I used to dip my toes in and step back, watching the ripples go out in the water from my little interference.
I was afraid that ripple would unstill all of the solidity and security I had in my life.
I was afraid to make a scene, scream with joy as I crashed into the water.
I was afraid to be bare and seen and open to someone else, much less in broad day light.
I was afraid it would make me childish or foolish.
I was afraid to just go for it.
I was so afraid of getting in and feeling the waters chill and feeling insecure and ultimately feeling like I could get left alone there in my bare state, wondering how I could have been so open in the first place.

And one day, I realized diving in head first was the only way to go.
I couldn't live on the banks and only dip in my toes.
I couldn't go my whole life not knowing how to swim.
So one day, I jumped right in.
I screamed with joy.
I laughed as he splashed me and held me under the water and threw me around playfully.
He held me and it felt like something I can't describe.
We swam for some time until I realized I couldn't tread his waters anymore.
It felt like I was fighting to just stay afloat, like I was drowning ten times over.

I cried my own sea when he left.
So I know what it's like to tread this water alone.
I know how ******* scary it is to go underneath for 5 seconds and resurface to unstilled water and empty horizons.
I know how gut wrenching it is to dry yourself off alone and leave just the same.
I know how that can sometimes leave you with  the notion that not only do you not want to swim, but maybe you can't ever do it again.

I can't promise we'll swim together forever.
I can't promise we'll get out together either.
But you will never know if you don't dive in.
So when I watched you dip your toe in, I realized I needed to come get you myself.
Sometimes people can't just jump in.

I walked out of the water and grabbed your hand.
You sheepishly looked down, and I smiled and lifted your chin. I understand what you're feeling, trust me.
I saw the sun catch your eyelashes and make your eyes shine just a big brighter than they usually do.
I rose up on my tip toes and whispered into your ear, "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and jump in. Dive right in and let me show you how to swim. I'll go first, and you can jump into my wake."

I turned and jumped without a second thought.
That's what you do when you're committed.

Maybe wouldn't follow.
Maybe you'd leave.
Maybe you'd scoff at what I'd said.
And that's the catch. Some people will.
But not you.
I resurfaced to catch you momentarily screaming as you hit the water.
I caught your moment of carefree, genuine joy.
You came up, water droplets falling from your hair down your face to return to the water.
Your eyes gave the water a run for it's money, they were so blue and bright I'd thought maybe the sea had met the sun and created them.
You smiled at me and laughed, loudly and heartily.
You swam to me and splashed my face, which made you laugh harder.
My smile must have been too big for my face because you hooked an arm around my waist, our feet lightly kicking each other as we tried to stay afloat.
You kissed my sundried lips and coyly offered,
"So, is this how you prefer to swim?"

Frankly yes, it is my preferred way-
Bare, all in, openly and freely, with little to no inhibitions.
I swim with the notion that I'm being as genuine and bare as I could ever be.
It's the same way I love people.
It's the same way I love you,
And it's how I hope you love me.

I regret little,
For I know regret is a
Useless emotion.

It causes pain to
Sear you in the heart, and that's
Unnecessary.

I regret little,
Aside from only hurting you
In the way I did.

I regret how long
It took me to understand,
To react to your pain.

I regret that I
Killed hope and patience, your faith
In love and people.

I'd bag all of your
Pain up and carry it on
My own, if I could.

I regret hurting
An undeserving victim,
I regret that most.

My regret will not
Compensate for how much you
Feel now, and I'm sorry.

I regret that my
Apologies have no truth
To you anymore.

I didn't see that
You were what I wanted, and
That you were lovely.

I only regret not
Being able to see what
Was in front of me.

I don't think stating that you make me melt would suffice, even if entirely clichè-

It's the icecream cone in the hand of a child during summer,
Melting away.

That's what you do to my soul when you first wake up and smile with your mouth closed,

And your first breath is dedicated to saying good morning to just me.

Bottle it up, dip my pen into it, and write you out pages and pages about the ways you make me melt-

It could be the way your skin warms against mine on cold nights,

The way your eyes ignite over the curves of my mind, the curves of my hips.

It could be the way your lips light fire to my spine when they embrace my own,

Or even when they whisper silly nothings into my ears.

Yes, I do melt at the sight of you thinking silently, within solely your own head.

I melt when you sing off key and drunkenly dance off beat.

I melt when you linger in the doorway and push your hair back the way I would right after you style it, simple to get a rise out of you.

I melt at the way your mind revolves around the finer things and not the ticking of a clock; you haven't time for keeping time, only time for what's important.

I melt when you laugh and when you smile, when you find me desirable even at my worst and when you close your eyes as you fall asleep.

I dip my pen into the ways you make me melt and write it all out for you to see

In hopes that maybe it'll have the same effect that you've had on me.

I do not need a cigarette in my hand
A flat stomach
An eyebrow piercing
An infinite knowledge of Socrates.

I do not need
A quick-witted tongue
To be easy to please, short in stature, soft spoken, impatient.

I do not need
A fondness of antiques
The latest car
26 pairs of shoes
Diamond earrings,
To be passive,
To be alluring and enticing and likable, noticeable, noteworthy, appealing or interesting.

I need my heart. If my heart does not allure or compel you to see if I really do have 26 pairs or shoes or if I really am a smoker, if I am passive and soft spoken, if I am tall or short, then I am not compelling enough. My heart should be what catches your attention and what makes you stay.

My heart overrides all else when looking at my worth; my 26 pairs of shoes will not comfort you, but my heart will. Therefore, look at someones heart. That is where you will truly find someone rather in who they are than what they are.

I'm always excited to see girls be open with sexuality and ***. Why? It's refreshing and empowering that a woman can say, "I enjoy ***." It seems so simple and trivial but the stigma that guys can get it in all they want and girls cannot for fear of being "easy", "loose" or "slutty" is frustrating.

I always felt like I had to keep quiet about what I liked and didn't like because that's what girls did; keep quiet while the guys can go on for days about all the *** they got. Boys could high five and congratulate each other like they had made a conquest whereas girls could whisper or keep quiet all together.

As a girl, I felt like opening up about *** would make me unworthy of respect because somehow my ****** experiences, or even a lack thereof, could determine my worth or how much respect I deserved from my peers. I felt like exploring sexuality somehow meant, in the eyes of others, that I didn't "respect" myself. But let us not forget that boys somehow earn respect for having ***. How can that be okay? I lose respect but guys earn it? It's ridiculous to me.

I grew up thinking I would be shunned for losing my virginity to my longtime boyfriend at 16 years old. Granted I wasn't mature enough for that at that age, but I didn't even tell my best friends until a year later. The culture and mentality that women cannot or should not be vocal about *** and sexuality is belittling and suffocating.

So for the record, *** is awesome. As a girl, I don't have any shame in enjoying ***. I used to, and maybe it's a little rash to use social media to rant about something like this, but that's simply how I feel. I'm not stating that people who are quiet about *** are wrong, because not everyone is comfortable talking openly about *** and that's TOTALLY FINE. What is not fine is the notion that girls cannot or should not be able to talk openly about *** without being called names or being scoffed at.

Society tells me that if I sleep around, I'm a ***** or a ****. Frankly I'll sleep around all I want, if I want, when I want. I'll still sleep easy after. I am comfortable in my own skin, I am comfortable in someone else's bed. I couldn't give a **** about what anyone has to say about me, my stance on this topic or my openness towards ***.

All I have to say is that I enjoy ***. You can get used to your hand if you have the audacity to call me anything other than my name for saying so.

It's the way you laugh, the way your eyes light up and your lips part into a smile.

It's the way you randomly squeeze me tighter for just a second, whether it be my hand or my frame is a hug.

It's the way you tense up and exhale when my lips find your earlobe.

It's the way you look before you kiss me.

It's the way you trace circles along my skin in quiet moments.

It's the way you fall asleep next to me, spooning me from behind.

It's the way you wake up on the other side of the bed, with messy hair and quick arms to pull me back into you.

It's the way you focus on the television, even if my lips are all over you.

It's the way you randomly bring me chocolate, or when I had flowers on my doorstep when my best friend left.

It's the way you don't read what I write, because now I can make a gift out of it.

It's the way you leave me writing about you nearly every day regardless.

It's the way you're practical and level headed, though you can be silly and goofy too.

It the way you squirm when I lightly roll my fingers along your sides, across your abdomen.

It's the way you pin my hands above my head when you kiss me.

It's the way you kiss my neck, my chest, my hands and my lips. It's very much just the way you kiss me.

It's the way you told me you loved me when you were drunk.

It's the way you use your wits- I expect nothing less than a sarcastic or cryptic comment from you.

It's the way you're bright, you're naturally smart and inclined to succeed.

It's the way you involve me in your passions.

It's the way you don't involve me in our own plans- I usually don't know what's going on.

It's the way you keep busy, how well-rounded you are.

It's the way you leave me wanting more.

It's the way you show me you love me more than you tell me.

It's the way you listen to my stories, even if I'm telling you the story twice.

It's the way you make this easy- I don't have doubts, I don't have to question how you feel.

It's the way you let me move at my own pace, the way you were always so patient.

It's the way you gave me a second chance, and I can't thank you enough for it.

It's always been the way you say good night.

It's the way you are with me, and I love that.

I never said forever,
Nor did I think that was the time frame
In which you'd leave my life.
I found losing you is such a shame.

I never said disappear
Completely, dissipate into thin air.
I didn't think you would honestly,
But it was no surprise, rather it was fair.

We suffer consequences from actions
Consistently, all the time,
And I just didn't realize
Losing you would be mine.

I never said that I'd miss you.
I never even really said good bye.
I never said I wish you the best,
I never said I'm sorry for orchestrating lies.

I never said my apologies for
Creating a web of false hope
That trapped you, and now that you're free
I don't really know how to cope.

I never said how much you meant
To me, or how much I really care.
I never said any of it and it'll remain so,
My lungs never made those thoughts into air.

I never said a lot that pertained
To how important you were
And maybe still are. I'm sorry,
Of only that I am sure.

If you are a woman, stand proud
Because thanks to you,
The human race will continue on.

Stand up strong to the boys
Who, despite this day and age,
Tell you to go make them a sandwich.

I say boys because in my book,
Men view women as equals, as counterparts-
Not lesser, not unqualified, not unable.

If you are a woman,
Be sure to love yourself as you are because
Those beauty standards change on a dime-

Frankly, you're a work of art
From your dimples to your nose,
From your eyes to your knees.

See, make sure you love who you are
Because if you allow a man to love you where your own self-love should be,
You won't be full-

You'll be half empty as you roam around life
Trying to find a man who will love you
When you can't even love yourself.

Frankly, if you're a woman
Pat yourself on your ******* back because
You are a force to be reckoned with.

If you're a woman, stare at yourself in the mirror
And learn to love, support, encourage and believe
In the lovely person staring back at you.

If you're a woman, wear whatever the ******* want-
Dress for yourself, and dress in what
Makes you feel like a million bucks, whether that's a tshirt or a sheath.

Also, if you're a woman, say what you'd like.
If you want to say curse words despite the stigma that it's not "ladylike",
Say the ******* words anyway.

If you're a woman, walk along with
Your head up, your shoulders back, your smile
Blazing a trail ahead of you.

If you're a woman,
Don't forget that other women are your sisters,
Not always your enemies.

If you're a woman,
Celebrate all that entails your gender,
But also remember that your gender does not determine what you can do, say or be. Ever.

And if someone makes the age old remark that
"It's a man's world.",
Kindly remind them that if that were true,

Women wouldn't be astronauts, politicians,
Engineers, authors, bosses, CEOS and so fourth-
No, this is a world in which women continue to thrive just as much as men do.

If you're a woman,
Seriously, best of luck when your period starts.
We all know how much that *****.

Even more luck when a guy judges you,
States that you're emotional and irrational
Solely because your body is functioning properly.

If you're a woman, you're already half way
To be one hell of a person.
Now you just have to believe it in its entirety to make it the truth.

I can be your better half,
You can be my main squeeze.
We can keep this light hearted
And go with the salty breeze

That blows along the oceanside;
We'll flow like the waves flow free-
Come be my main man,
Come be my one and only.

I'll be your balancing act,
You'll be my rationality,
So long that it includes you-
Together is how we should be.

We can stay in or go out,
We can go anywhere actually,
So long that you're coming along,
Promise you'll be right next to me.

Come be my main man,
I'll be your main squeeze.
You're the perfect fit, you see-
We fit together with such ease.

Come and stay awhile,
There's no rush to leave.
We look so good together,
To this I believe.

I am second best
That face you see when you want to
I condone this
Because I have to

A ghost in the halls
Transparent and iridescent
Noticed when convenient
Open mouthed and silent

Words do not alter my position
I fear they send me deeper into this state
Is it bad that I accept it?
And I the one who digs deeper instead?

I dig deep into the fur of isolation
I'm close to it, within my reach
Nestling into the in-between
The turning point

Unplaced, uncalled for sadness is the worst;
Like a ****, it sprouts up
In some crack within my ribcage.

I don't understand the sadness.
It goes ignored and disregarded
Because I can't place why it began to grow,

And it'll just continue to grow
Until it takes over my body,
Growing by the streams down my cheeks.

You can run away from bullies,
Go home after school and rest assured you're safe
From whatever torment they may bring,
Whatver distress they inflict upon you.

You can turn on the lights when it's dark,
Illuminate rooms so you can reaffirm
That your closet doesn't have a murderer in it,
Or that dust is the only thing residing under your bed.

You can run inside when it begins to rain,
Cuddle up in bed with tea and listen to the thunder
As a storm rolls through your neighborhood.
You're safe and sound under your comforter.

You can close your eyes in scary movies,
Plug your ears, hide behind a friend.
You can say "It's all fiction, it's not real."
Because that's true. Movies aren't, no matter how convincing.

You can avoid circuses
If clowns do not delight you.
You can abstain from seeing their big red shoes and noses
As long as you do not attend a circus.  

You can defeat most frightening things within your life; Don't acknowledge them, abstain from encountering them, conquer them, reduce them to nothing.

The most frightening thing in my life is myself, and I cannot simply go home, turn on a light, or avoid a circus.

It is always me, myself and I cannot simply pretend I am comfortable with always being in the presence of my biggest fear.

The last time the caged bird sang,
So light, so shrill,
The memories rang,
To forget would ****.

Her life was encaged,
Tightly bound,
She promised herself to never rage,
Her homes were compressed and never found.

Deterioration took place,
On the brink of hysteria,
Fragile as aged lace,
Life became a controlled area.

With her lovely wings,
She used to soar,
She only remembered the hard things
Ambitions leaked through the cracks on the floor.

Lies came into mind,
Revealing and bitter,
It was one of a kind,
How this hit her.

All she asks for is closure,
Of her torn heart,
The ways they still hold her,
It tears her further apart.

Living in this is driving her to conclusions,
She thought she would never meet.
Lying to herself, "It's just an illusion",
This is her defeat.

She had the confidence to break through it all,
The hope begins to lose their vibrant colors
Rock bottom broke her fast paced fall,
She lies there and devotes herself to wonders

So as the caged bird sang for the last time,
So light, so shrill,
The memories are ringing,
To remember kills.

Karma decided I hadn't had
A sufficient taste of my own medicine,
So I downed the whole bottle,
And overdosed on my own faults.

Karma decided I hadn't carried
Enough weight in the situation,
So the blocks were stacked high,
Heavy on my shoulders and conscience.

Karma decided I never understood
Just how much my actions ruined others,
So the tables flipped and others did as I had,
And now I'm feeling the full force of those actions.

Karma decided I'd never drowned
In my own lies and deceit,
So she created a pool out of yours,
And threw me in the deep end when I didn't know how to swim.

Karma decided that I was oblivious
To everything you endured,
So she made sure I'd go down the same path,
Alone and angry and cursing myself for all of this.

Karma decided I was deserving
Of all of this,
And I agree.
Karma is a *****, and keeps those like herself in her company.

Nightmares sometimes become reality,
A walking, living experience you didn't think
Was real, tangible, possible,
Until your fears come true.

Nightmares aren't subject to night,
When all is dark and shadowed;
Sometimes nightmares are set in broad daylight,
Where you can see it all unfold.

Nightmares aren't so cliché,
Where clowns chase you,
You end up naked in public,
Or you're free falling from a cliff.

No, nightmares are becoming
Your worst version of yourself
And imposing that upon others,
And realizing you made their reality a nightmare too.

Nightmares are becoming what used to
Grapple at your feet,
What would pull you down,
And keep you from standing back up.

Nightmares are when the things that hurt you
End up becoming familiar enough that
You hurt other people the same way,
And you're now apart of a cycle.

Nightmares are when you lead
Someone else into your own,
Long enough that you become the nightmare
Rather than just enduring one.

I heard from you that it takes 21 days to form a habit.
It's been 3 days of falling asleep sad,
18 days of acknowledging all you did was say my name in vain to anyone that would listen,
25 days of not speaking to you,
67 days of not seeing you in person,
118 days since you told me I was ******,
121 days since I told you to leave me alone,
125 since you stayed the night at my house and talked to me until 3 am,
168 since we said good bye and I somehow just got out of the car and left,
169 since you last said you loved me.

They also say it takes twice as long as the duration of your relationship with someone to forget about them, to move on.
My dear, I'm not prepared to spend the next 3,650 days trying to forget how you'd laugh, or forget the mole on the bottom of your foot, or forget how you'd kiss at my scars and see past them and still had the audacity to tell me I was pretty and worthy of love. Every day those memories drop from my consciousness into a puddle that wells in the bottom of my heart, and I fear someday it'll overflow.

These days continue to pass, as do my memories of you and all that we shared. The days pass just like your feelings did for me and I wish you'd teach me your ways because you took days to let go and I've taken too many days holding onto someone who, one day, decided I wasn't even worthy of respect. And that was the day I decided to not ever go back. It was also the day I cried on my kitchen floor because the day came and went, just like you did, just like we hoped we never would.

I remember two
A.m. darkness, when you would
play my heartstrings

As you'd strum across
My ribcage, tuning out the
World around us- we

Could only hear
Heart beats against chests and
The sound of deep breaths

Before lips would meet
And create a song of the things
We physically could

Not verbalize; some
Songs are only felt, not sung.
In between the sheets,

I could feel every
Note you spoke in the way
You kissed me to sleep.

He's forgetful-
He forgets where he put his shoes,
Or where he set down his sunglasses.

He forgets our plans at times,
He forgets what time we were
Supposed to meet, sometimes where.

He forgets that he has a little piece of food
On the corner of his mouth,
And he won't notice until I mention it.

He forgets his shifts at work,
And sometimes even forgets to take
A picture of his schedule in the first place.

He forgets some of the stories I tell him,
Maybe because I tell so many-
Regardless, he's forgotten a few here and there.

His forgetfulness drives me crazy,
Considering I won't forget how
Maddening this tendency is-

Him forgetting plans and times
And dates and places and where
He placed an item is indeed irksome at times.

But he never forgets to tell me goodnight.
He always turns over his shoulder and says
Goodnight earnestly, genuinely.

He never forgot about the time we drove
Around in the back of a truck,
When we drove along a windy road and

We laughed and locked eyes.
It was then that I decided
I didn't want to ever forget who he was.

He didn't forget that I love
Dark chocolate and letters,
That I love the little things.

He won't forget how much I love music,
And how I'd more than willing attend
Just about any concert with him.

He never forgets about the
Particular blanket I like the most
When we hole up at home and watch TV for hours.

Sometimes he doesn't forget my stories,
And is sure to remind me
When I start telling one twice.

He never forgets to grab my hand
When it's idly by my side;
He never forgets to squeeze my hand before letting go.

He never forgets to tell me good night,
He never forgets to tell me he cares,
He never forgets to tell me I'm beautiful.

He never forgets what's really important,
And neither do I,
So I forget about his forgetfulness.

Rather, I remember that his forgetfulness
Is so trivial in the grand scheme of things,
And though he is forgetful,

*He's never once forgotten to say good night.

I wrote this for you because there were times I wish someone had written this for me-

Stop hating your reflection, stop hating the girl that is in your mirror. She is you, and you must love your fingertips to your eyelashes, your toes to your stomach all the way down to the edges of your soul and the depths of your heart.

Stop letting him be your world. Have you ever looked at a map? Have you even seen where the rivers go? Have you ever realized that you can get in the car and go? Don't tell me no, because it's true. Instead of following the rivers you let him create them and they flow down your face. Stop swimming in your tears, don't drown in his consuming love. Swim far away and resurface. Breathe in and out. Get out of the water and dry your tear soaked face off, and don't swim until you're ready again.

Stop letting your insecurities shape your mind. They're like needles injected into your body, leaving injuries and drops of blood while extracting your strength to put those thoughts to sleep. You have to learn to form your pretty little fingers into fists and start fighting off those nagging voices in your head that say you aren't good enough. Throw a punch, take a hit, get back up, wipe the sweat off your forehead and do it again. Battle until you come out bruised but on top, exhausted but a winner.

Stop letting him be your measure of worth. His attention and love will never, in your lifetime, fill the void where your own self love should be. He, nor any one guy, will ever fill your heart the way your own self love could. I promise you that loving yourself is so much more rewarding than someone else loving you. I promise I promise I promise.

Stop making excuses. Are you really happy or is that what you project? Is your smile real? Does he make you genuinely smile anymore? Are you falling asleep in his arms feeling alone? Are you?

Stop reading these words and start doing. I wrote this for you because I know he never would.

Since when were collar bones and flat stomachs and coy smiles and clear skin and *** appeal and thigh gaps more appealing than trust and consideration and effort and love and patience and forgiveness and appreciation?

Fall for traits within a person rather than traits you can see. Fall for what can be demonstrated rather than what constitutes to a person's outward appearance. You can be beautiful, or you can demonstrate why you're beautiful. I believe whole heartedly that inner beauty can come through and shine just as bright, but outward beauty cannot penetrate your soul and make it so.

If you are falling in love with collar bones,
Defined abdomens,
Back dimples,
Visible rib cages,
Thigh gaps,
Straight, white teeth,
Long, endless hair,
Spakling eyes,
Dainty fingers,
You are doing it wrong.

If you are falling in love with the way his collarbone slight juts out,
How his abdomen flexes when he's stretching in the morning,
How his back dimples are indications where you can rest your hands,
How her visible rib cage only means you have something to strum your fingers across before bed,
How her thigh gap is just apart of her exterior,
How her straight, white teeth look when she's smiling,
How her long, endless hair is perfect to run your fingers through,
How his sparkling eyes are always fixated on you,
How her dainty fingers always find yours,
You are doing it right.

I tried keeping my love to myself and it left me empty-

Bottling up all I have left me heavy.

The weight anchored me to a quiet ocean floor beyond the sunlight.

So I took my love and divided it up in ways I can give to everyone-

The corny yet punny sense of humor, the hand to hold, the advice even when you don't want it, the adventure seeker, the invested listening, the lover, the 2 am "I'm thinking too much my heart might implode" texter, the hopeful disposition, the empathy, the person you can call only when you need.

I learned that keeping all my love kept me in the dark,

And giving it all to one left me eventually alone.

I learned that in order to float back up from the depths, I had to love far and wide;

I learned that this is how I must be to stay alive.

Seriously can't stress it enough, just tell people how you feel about them. It's hard and it's scary and it's daunting to open up but Jesus what is the point in feeling for someone if you can't tell them? Who cares if you look like a **** fool telling someone how you feel, you'd be even more foolish to not say a thing. People leave, they die, or things fizzle out; it happens. It's pessimistic  but that's realistic; it's life.

One of my favorite lyrics is from Ron Pope- "Beautiful things never last, that's why fireflies flash." It's so true. Moments and people come and go and if you feel for someone just tell them then. I don't want to have someone feel something for me and just let it sit in his or her mind, I want to know about it. So if you love someone say something. If you hate someone, say something. If you're thankful, if you're annoyed, if you're happy, if you're devastated, if you're unsure- say something.

It's such a cliché but life is very honestly too short to keep quiet when your heart is thumping so loudly in your **** chest because you're too nervous to open your mouth to tell someone what they mean to you. Tell people. Write to people. Do something about your feelings. We feel and letting your feelings slip under the radar, to me, is a shame. I know we all express ourselves differently but for crying out loud at least let people know what they mean to you, because someday you may not be able to and you may wish you had said something. You know what's scarier than opening up? Leaving things unsaid, leaving your feelings to your own heart and mind, letting people go unnoticed and unappreciated or uninformed. That's scarier than opening up your mouth to say something about your feelings.

I finally get what I've dreamt of;
My fingers laced between yours,
A meaningful conversation,
And an opportunity to just be with you.

I took the first step, took a shove
Into your arms, asking for
You to give me some reciprocation-
And that's precisely what you do.

Your feelings and love
Are misplaced, because who you adore
Is not who I really am, more like a romanticized creation
You formed in your head, too good to be true.

I cannot be yours simply because I seem
To mold to what you desire,
To form to your liking,
To be seemingly perfect in your eyes.

You look at me, your eyes gleam
With a long-burning, hearty fire
That I'm alluring and utterly striking;
I am that of which it all defies.

I am not so fit for you, not a cog to your machine
In which we fit together and conspire
To somehow work out kinks, our chances hiking
To the highest peak, somewhere touching the skies.