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.

Crafting up affection only meant for you,
Pouring it into your hands to only see it
Spill over the sides,
Through the cracks in your fingers like sand.

Pouring my time and energy
Into your hands to watch it
Drop as you uncup your hands
To check your phone, to change the channel.

Pouring a waterfall of kisses
Down your skin
To have you kiss me so lightly
That I don't know if it even happened.

I'm here pouring myself into you,
Pouring out how I feel and
You're letting it all overflow
Without notice that it's pooling around your feet.

It feels so good to pour you out of my heart like a tipping pitcher-
At first, droplets. Then the entire wave.

I started small, dropping drips of you into my subconscious or even the bottom wells of where I care for people.

Eventually the drops became consistent, streaming into a stream of "I'm okay without you" and "I don't need you to love me".

The wave sloshed out of the pitcher when I decided I was happier holding myself above your love, the wave washed over any notion that maybe your love would somehow replace the lacking love I had for myself.

I poured you out and let the emptiness just be for once, and now I have an open spot where my own self love and support can become a sea that I can sail endlessly.

I used to think keeping your love within the walls of my pitcher heart would keep you 'round but really you ended up tipping me over the edge and I spilled out myself, made a mess and had to pick up my tear-soaked soul.

I had to look at why I would ever pour out all I am for someone like you, who could only pour out so much. I am full to the brim with love and I create a sea of it for people who don't know how to swim.

Pouring you out of my heart took time and patience, though I can see clearly you're on dry land now and I'd rather you rest easy as opposed to drowning in what someone else might be able to tread.

So I'm filling my heart back up and so far it feels pretty full. The pitcher doesn't leak now that I've patched up where you left cracks and dents. I've sealed the leaks with all you couldn't be-

My own self love, meandering the record store alone, buying myself the sunflowers and dark chocolate, putting on the dress because I want to look beautiful, holding my own hand when I feel lonesome, and telling myself that losing you only means my heart is open and vast like the sea.

My heart once poured out for you and like a cloud you can't return the rain, but I don't want to return what I poured out anyway. It was meant for you.

I'm a girl with a pitcher heart gathering what it is I'd like to pour out for someone else when the time is right. Instead of feeling like he's drowning in my monsoon love, he might think I'm the lemonade and pool on a hot summer day- refreshing, quenching, sweet and worth diving into.

So though you tipped me over, spilled me completely, you just left me empty enough to learn how to fill myself back up. Pouring you out of my heart felt so good when I came to see that you're a shallow swimmer who is afraid of depth,

And I simply figured my love for you was too deep to dive into.

I'm afraid that I'm pouring out all I have for people and like rain you can't return it to a cloud.

I'm afraid someday I'll meet someone who would pour out every last drop and I'll be dry and scarce and unable to see that that person is who I should have waited for.

I'm afraid I'm sometimes pouring over my edges for people who aren't catching anything I spill out, and when I find someone who will I'll be too empty to reciprocate.

I'll be a drought and he'll be a monsoon, and I'm really afraid that no matter how much pouring he may bring, it won't ease the fissures in my dried up foundations where my heart used to be a full, unpredictable ocean sometimes thrashing just to feel and instead would be the sun-cracked desert floor.

I'm afraid all of this pouring will leave me dry and someday someone will wonder if I ever even poured out my soul to anyone to begin with.

Plastered to the wall are memories of me. I am in your sheets and bedspread, your kitchen and driveway. I am imprinted on your couch, lingering in your halls and thoughts. My reflection was once in one of your mirrors, my hand once on one of your door handles. I am in your closet rummaging through sweaters, I am in your garage waiting to leave.
I am everywhere. You won't forget me simply because I am not present; I'm more present than you realize. You won't see me, but you'll feel me and understand how this kind of presence is the most alarming.
You can hide from from physical things, but your feelings will someday roll through like a train off the tracks into your heart and mind and you won't be able to hide, not even in the comfort of your own home, because my presence will be there. You will remember and feel me, and realize that I was the realest thing you ever had.
I won't be tangible by then though. You will only have your halls, your kitchen, the empty mirror, the untouched door handles to remember me by, because I refuse to wait around for someone who will wait that long to see what's in front of them.
Good bye.

Ignoring problems fuels them,
Makes them stronger.
They'll return again,
They'll remain longer.

Ignoring problems nurtures them,
Makes them harder to solve.
Stop storing them away in your heart's den,
There they will evolve.

Ignoring problems creates more
Of what you're trying to overlook
Because pretending they don't exist, to ignore
Won't let you off the hook.

The problem is that I can see you in my rear view mirror waving good bye every time I try to steer towards something better,
And I reverse back into your arms
In a way that sends my heart crashing back into your atmosphere.

The problem is that I can see me in your bed for hours on end
Researching your skin with my keen eye
So I can kiss at what you would call imperfections.

The problem is that the rose colored glasses I put on
The day I laid on the couch with you and told you I loved you
Haven't lose their hue, haven't lost their tint on my world.

The problem is that I'd drunkenly fall into your arms
The same way I did over a year ago
And I know you wouldn't catch me.

The problem is that you were the one that got away
And you ran fast and far
Because you needed to get away;
That was what I became to you.

The problem was that I taught you more about breaking than heart
And you taught me more about patience than tolerance
And at the end of it all I learned how to live a life without you in it because that was my only option.

The problem is that I am still in love with you
And you're in love with the life
That doesn't have a remnant of me.

The problem is that I am in love with you
And your life
Had no room for me

Your body heat is heightened by the blankets over our bodies in attempts to keep out winter's chill,
Yet the heat doesn't melt the look in our eyes when we go through the steps we've threaded so long that the footprints are permanently embedded on the path that led to "us"-

"I love you" is so soft I can't heart it,
And the embraces so short I forget they happened.

Falling asleep next to you means we are close,
But underneath these covers also lies a truth between us that not even skin upon skin could break through;

Proximity means nothing when hearts are far and eyes see through.
However close we are won't make up for it because proximity means nothing when the only time we are close is when I'm physically next to you.

We should just kiss like real people do-*
It's fine if your lips are chapped from the cold ones before me,
And mine are a bit too tight from all the times I've tried to save face.
We might bump noses or hit teeth,
I might laugh and you might blush.
Maybe your hands might shake,
And maybe I'll be too nervous to keep your gaze.
There won't be fireworks or an orchestra to set the mood,
And that's all fine by me so long you just kiss me like real people do.

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.

Remember to smile
At the strangers on the street.
Remember to dance and sing
To your own unique beat.

Remember to savor and enjoy
Your meals each day.
Remember to smell the flowers
Once they bloom in May.

Remember to say "I love you"
To those you feel so strongly about.
Remember to maintain wisdom and hope,
For these will always trump doubt.

Remember to sleep
When you're weary and weak.
Remember to give
More than you do keep.

Remember to lend a hand,
Even if you're down too.
Remember to learn from all experiences,
Becaususe there are lessons in all you do.

Remember to forgive
Those who did you wrong.
Remember: to forgive (when you're ready) is to move on,
And there's no other way to genuinely move along.

Remember to indulge
In what makes you most bright.
Remember to work endearingly when needed,
For you'll always have to fight-

Always remember to fight for what you believe in.
If you stand for nothing, you'll fall at the first blow.
Remember to stand up for what matters to you,
Vow to never let go.

Remember that someone indeed cares
About you when you can't seem to love you.
Remember that love is indeed stronger than your demons,
Love will always pull through.

Remember that you will fall,
You will stumble and lose.
Remember that you can let that teach you,
The choice is for you to choose.

Remember to remember worth,
You have it in yourself, in all you've said.
Remember to read this when
You forget anything you just read.

This dream isn't feeling sweet
I remember 7 and I thought 17 would be freeing,
I remember dreaming at 13 and thinking love and age would be so sweet,
Though back then I didn't know
That youth can't be beat.

We're reeling through the midnight streets
I used to lie to my mom
So I could stay out late and roam around
Someday no one will ask where I am going,
If I'm coming home or staying out on the town.

And I've never felt more alone
I outgrew people and times in life
Like coats and pants and shoes.
I outgrew my home and myself,
And I never knew I was something I could lose.

Feels so scary getting old*
Every day is an inch closer to
A world in which I have only seen for so long.
School taught me to divide and write,
But it didn't tell me how to stay strong

When I'm 20 and lonely,
When I'm in love and aching,
When I'm trying to replace the youth
That I so easily found myself mistaking

For a span of life to run through
As if it were a field.
I miss 7 like I used to dream of 17.
I ache for the youth that was real.

Pinks and blues color the sky,
The sun has removed itself for the night,
And the breeze rolls on,
Alleviating the August heat.

Though a bit high,
You can find me basking in the last of the light
So I can view all the houses, cars and lawns
As I read on my rooftop; nothing beats

These waning summer nights that
Are fleeting quickly. Nothing beats reading
On my roof, enjoying the solitary act
Of simply reading a book.

I'm doing more than reading up here at
Sunset; no, I'm understanding that this is just leading
Me to the notion that happiness has one fact-
Happiness rests in the little things, you just have to look.

The seasons are changing, am I allowed to change with them?
Can I bloom like the flowers do?
Or am I stuck in winter's shade where things cease to grow?
That's how it feels, trying to get over you.

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.

It's so weird how seconds change what's been going on for years. The idea that people, relationships and circumstances are like sand in your cupped hands until you spread your fingers and ****! it all slips away in a matter or seconds. You can try to pick the sand back up but you'll never get the same sand. Once you let that kind of stuff slip everything changes, and it's so amazing and frightening that constants can subside in a matter of moments.

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.

I think every woman wants to be
Looked at like she's a piece of artwork,
Whether it be when she's first waking up,
Or when her body is scarcely covered by a sheet.

I think a woman is a piece of art
Worthy of a longing stare
From across a hall,
Or from her love across a bed.

Not to objectify,
But a woman's body is indeed lovely from
The curve of her spine
To the backs of her knees, to the way her hair falls.

I think every woman wants to be adored
By her love, man or woman,
Whether she's conscious of it
Or not.

Look at your love the way
You want to be looked at;
Like she's a piece of artwork
That doesn't sit in a museum,

But rather within your own reach,
Close enough to see her eyes light up,
Close enough to grasp her
Because unlike in museums,

She's a piece of art that you can finally look at and touch.

Life is a lot like kissing in the rain-
Planning won't ensure all you hope for,
And sometimes you have to wait for
Opportunity to meet up with luck.
Then you can seize the moment,
Take it for what it is worth,
Lean in and pucker up.

I'd like to be flowers growing in the cracks of sidewalks because those are the flowers that fought and somehow saw the light, and grew that way until cracking through the pavement and thriving towards the sun, almost a proclamation brightly, lightly saying, "I made it."

I just want to wake up where you are.

I touched skin I used to know and tasted lips I used to crave.

Little did I know that letting you back in simply meant my backbone had caved.

I just want to slow it down with you,
So when our minds collide, I can think it through-
Slo-mo us forming a connection in hearts and mind,
Confirming I've found what I want to find-

The shoulder to lean on,
The curvature of your body at dawn,
The assurance and accountability,
Your attention, to the best of your ability.

I want to slow it down with you
When you're simply spacing out, haven't a clue
That the cosmos and stars don't have anything compared
The amount of time I think we should have shared

Together, finding the inner cogs and ticks
Of our beating hearts, what does the trick
To make our spinning minds revolve around
The everlasting could be of us, a continuing yell into a canyon's echo sound.

I want to slow if down for us
So we can look past superficial and lust.
I want to slow it down when I'm within your embrace
Because I'm not looking for a chase.

I want to slow it down so I know time passing doesn't mean we will,
Or your time here will fall ill.
I want to slow it down for once and hear the clock's gears tick, pass and go;
I want to slow it down with you so maybe, with patience and time, something between us and grow

Like the forests with towering evergreens
With trunks increasing in age and rings-
I want to slow it down with you,
In every moment, in everything we do.

Smile- it captures my lips
As my mind makes revolutions
Close my eyes as my thoughts flip
Until I find the ending conclusions

I've lain on my bed
Watching minutes go by
11:00, 12:00, 1:00 am is what I've read
Time is a bird, ready to fly

I smile because it conveys
All that I am feeling
Even all the breaking and pains
I experience while my mind's reeling

I don't do it to feel close to you
Or because it's a physical need
Those days are overdue
A hunger I no longer have to feed

I don't have a dependency
On what I don't obtain
Although I'm never fully free
I feel no open wounds or pain

It more resembles a scar
Simply there
But never too far
To lose it's tempting glare

The glare that sometimes becomes blinding
Not my sight, nor my judgement
But my heart, causing unwinding
Making my thoughts and heart distant

Recomposing myself took practice
Falling down and regaining balance
Becoming less and less
Resistant to you absence

You see me breathe and walk
You see me as another face
You see me speak and talk
You see I've fallen from your grace

I see you put one foot in front of the other
I see you've moved on
I see you were eager
To not carry me along

And I'm okay with it all
It's why smiles embrace my lips
And it causes tears to fall
From the corners of my eyes, to my cheeks' tips

Happiness*- it eludes my soul
I can see it inhabits you too
And when it gets cold
I remember- but you haven't a clue

I can wait for someday-
I do not ache for companionship and everlasting love,
Nor am I prospectively naming my future children.
I am not picking the linens for my home that could be beachside or suburban, city dwelling or atop a mountain.
I do not know precisely how I will sustain myself,
Or when I will retire.
I do not lose my days to planning too far ahead
So much so that I lose sight of today.
I can wait for someday
Because some days all I need is the day I have before me.
Someday will come, and I will look back
And be sure that waiting around for someday was not the way to live out the moments until then.

Some things remain-

Summer storms remind me of you,
And if I play the right music I fall in sync with the rhythm and let my heart dance to the tune of you and me, the songs my heartstrings would play when your fingers strummed them so.

I find myself pulled off to sides of roads
Either immersed in poetry for the ghost of us or immersed in my mind where your ghost resides and sometimes haunts me with the irrational notion that I lost the best.

I find the things I'd like to share with you
And find myself untyping the message to let you know because you'll read it but you won't read into it. In between the lines of it all, it simply says "I miss you."

I curse the way my heart curves
Around your figure and around what was, around what could've been and what was lost. I curse the way I find my heart still shamelessly open to yours.

Some things remain,
And I curse myself for merely wishing you had.

I was somewhere where I was enticed enough that I forgot to call home, I forgot to check social media, I forgot to respond to texts, I forgot I had a different life somewhere else. I forgot that public transportation stresses me out, and I also forgot about how meeting new people can put me on edge. I was somewhere fresh and new, somewhere that made me independent, open, curious and even more so adventurous than I already am. I was somewhere where my eyes shone brighter than the street lamps and sky scrapers. I was somewhere where no one knew me and as cliché as it is, I could be whoever I wanted to be. I was somewhere new, and I could feel it in my bones.

I hope everyone finds a place like that, somewhere that's so encompassing and captivating that wherever you were before seems small and outgrown. I hope everyone wakes up in a place they love someday, in a place they realize they can be and do and say what they want. I hope everyone walks outside and realizes that where you are now doesn't have to be where you'll be forever.

I was somewhere so enticing and beautiful that it made me realize I can be those things too. I hope I end up somewhere where the stars shine as bright as I do, where my love for wherever I may be is as vast as the sky. I'll end up somewhere someday, and I've never been so ready to find my somewhere out there.

I tried to be stone so I would be invincible to anything that came my way.

I wouldn't sway with the wind like tree branches do, or uproot completely when gale force winds blow through.

I wouldn't burn at the touch or fire and crumble into charred black dust.

I wouldn't freeze over in the snow, even if it covered me whole.

Mother Nature has nothing on your hands though;

You came at me with a chisel and hammer and decided to carve into my granite veins again and call me your personal masterpiece.

You carved yourself a niche in my stature and made me into someone dented by your meticulous hands.

You cut jagged edges and smoothed them round, ******* at every detail and feeling for bumps to smooth away.

I made myself stone so you couldn't get into me, not even if you tried.

Yet here we are with my carved heart and your worn chisel and hammer by your side.

You hit a little too hard this time and the cracks have already formed;

I can feel the wind blow through me and the snow settle into the cracks just waiting for the fire to melt it.

Someday you'll put the chisel and hammer down because working at stone like me is tiresome.

That, and by the end of all this I'll be broken stone around your feet.

Artists finish their pieces, and you finished me by hitting too hard and cracking me completely.

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?

I don't get angry when the sunset eases into nightfall,
Or when my dreams end because my eyelids have opened.

I don't feel utter sadness when these beautiful things suddenly stop-
I know these moments are ephemeral and they will all come to an end.

Despite knowing that,
I don't curse the course of life.

Instead I embrace it-
I take these fleeting, beautiful moments for what they are worth.

I should stop being so angry that we ended,
And be thankful for what was instead.

You may have been the sun setting in my sky,
You may have been in my dreams,

But your absence allowed for my stars to shine brighter
And guide me somewhere where dreams were not just for sleep.

Now that we speak again, it's only surface level-

"How was your trip?"
"That's cool, hope you had fun!"
"Hey what's up?"

A text here and a text there, fleeting eye contact and minimal genuine conversation keep our casualties down. We've already had so many when we attempted to dive deeper.

I sometimes swam in the blue of your eyes and swam alone when you left. I swam until my lungs gave out and I had to hit the bottom to know that I can only skim your surface at this rate.

Diving into your eyes didn't even take a second thought but left me with a thousand when not even your lips could convey what your eyes did-

Your hands and words and actions didn't say much about your love but your eyes did. They gave you away every time. Your eyes said it all and I'm trying to do the same now.

I'm sure my depths were dark and deep, too deep for you to endure. You're a shallow swimmer yet I almost made you learn how to swim by allowing you to love a girl like me by throwing you into the deep end of my mind where all the darker thoughts reside.

So now that we speak again, and you aren't struggling to stay afloat in some else's storm, I'll skim your surface and you skim mine.

"Hey how are you?" You might ask.

"I'm fine" I'll say.

Beyond the surface level I really am, because I know that you're only on the surface and that's far enough away from any of my demons to pull you down with them.

As things are going swimmingly, there's always something that must go wrong.
Something that halts me, stops me, catapults me into the mindset that maybe what I had going wasn't so great; it wasn't great enough to avoid tribulations and issues that cause me to second guess and hesitate to move forward.

As things hit rough waters, there's always something that keeps me afloat.

And how can the one thing keeping me afloat within my life be so terrific and profound yet scary and daunting and silencing?

You are like a buoy tied to an anchor, you keep me afloat but you still bob below the surface and this roller coaster is all over the place and it's taking me everywhere I didn't even think I could handle going.

I need you, I don't want you, I have you, I miss you, I seek you, I crave you, I lie to you, I lie next to you, I hold you, I push you away. Our relationship is a paradox.

And I only have myself to blame for that I suppose.

I am the pendulum swing from life and death-

Some days I feel so alive I cry and the world is my playground, where I can see beyond the horizons and touch sunsets with my fingertips. I kiss at the stars and create constellations connectioning myself to the universe, each bright orb a reason why I'm thankful for the breath I am afforded.

Some days I am so far to death I look for life in the sheets of people I don't know, the empty bottles of clear spirits when mine is so dark, and anything that may light a spark in the dark cavity of my chest. I light lighters to substance when I am so lacking substance myself.

The pendulum swings so hard and so far, creating winds that I feel as chill on the days I swing to death, and a wind I welcome on days my soul shines so bright the days I feel the warmth.

I'd **** to have a softer swing but I'm killing over the fact that some days I'd **** myself and others I wonder how I could ever even feel that in the first place.

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.

Let's stay away from the edge of the bed,
Roll inward toward one another
So that we can stay closer together.

Your chest, my head-
You can just be my lover,
Fitting me better than my favorite sweater.

See, the edge of the bed
Is the diving board for all the things
I'd rather not remember.

Some nights, everything I've never said,
All the mistakes, insecurities, faults ring
Through my mind, lighting an ember

That sets fire to things I'd rather forget.
But I don't want these thoughts to bleed and spread-
I don't want to relive all of those best-forgotten thoughts

Because when my mind lets
The memories roll through my head,
I sincerely wish they would just not.

And I don't have to will the memories away
When you're holding me close
In the middle of the night-

The thoughts don't relay
Because I'm too busy feeling myself doze
Off into your arms, until tomorrow's light-

You're holding me from the edge
Where there is no possible opportunity
For whatever lurks beneath my bed

To resurface and climb up my bed post, perch on a ledge
And jump back into my mind; You're my immunity,
You're what keeps it all from reentering my head.

So your fingertips rolling down my spine
And your soft breaths rolling in and out of your mouth
And your body rolling over, closer to me

Is really a barrier that lets me sleep in peace, I've come to find;
I don't have any doubt
That you make me feel as safe as I could be.

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.

The flowers on my bedside table
Lost their rosy red hue,
Stopped smelling like spring,
Drooped over the sides of the vase
Just like the smile upon my face.

The flowers on my bedside table
Didn't get new water,
Didn't receive sunlight and warmth,
Didn't get the proper nurture they needed
Just like our love.

The flowers on my bedside table
Look old and sad,
Obviously near the end of life,
Crinkly and dry and faded,
Just like our will.

The flowers on my bedside table
Will be gone soon.
I'll throw them out
Because they are a sad sight
Just like our relationship.

The flowers on my bedside table
Were from you.
They were amazing at first,
And now they are nearing death,
Just as I feel all we have together too.

Sweater sleeves balled around my fists to keep warm on nights under stars where the sky gives the plastic glow-in-the-dark ones a run for their money.

I sometimes wish I lived a life under the sky.

I randomly feel pangs for evergreens because they are as old as the notion that there will always be more to explore.

I probably do not seem like the type to want this, to believe that I could survive on Mother Nature's beautiful yet cruel paths,

Where the sunsets are magnificent and then the cold sets in.

Where the rain pelts for hours only for the clouds to part and shed some light.

Where the waves crash all while washing away the shore to show more.

Maybe I do not seem like the type because I sit behind a screen and type about it instead.

But I feel it. I feel the breeze in my hair and in my heart. I eye at the world the way girls want boys to eye them. I lose sleep to daydreams of nights alone in woods. I seek thrill and want to feel alive because I'm chancing my own on a force that cannot be reckoned with yet is so utterly vivid and encompassing.

It all scares me shitless to think I could pack up and go alone yet I think that is all I really do want-

To prove myself wrong and go alone, venture out of the box I put myself into and look at the stars and follow them instead of the paths paved before me.

The stars on my ceilings allude to the possibilities of the real ones outside

And all I've ever wanted is to fall asleep from watching them shine.

Let the bitterness fade,
And the happiness invade.

I am watching people slip through my fingers
Like beads of sand on a beach.

I am watching memories wash away
Like waves roll in and out, leaving no remains.

I am watching common ground disappear
Like the sun sets over the sea.

I am watching things I love float away
Like a beach ball blown away, out of my reach.

I am watching passions I pursued subside
Like the sunshine at the end of the day wanes.

I am watching everything we had drown in an ocean of confusion and cowardice,
It all drowns until there is nothing left to see.

The ocean swallowed me whole,
And sent me back to shore,
Empty handed and empty inside,
Hollow to my core.

The ocean entangled me in seaweed
And entrapped me in love.
I panicked, cut myself free
And resurfaced above.

The ocean's salt burnt my wounds,
Reminded me that they were there.
The reminder that you're gone now,
And none of it is fair.

The past is behind you,
Where it ought to be;
Don't let it's façade of good times
Lure you back into the warm arms of nostalgia and memories.

The past has passed,
So accept it and move on with life;
Don't let it latch onto your ankles
And chain you down to your old strifes.

The past is what was,
What used to be;
Let it stay that way,
Let the past be something you only see

When the past is teaching you how
To grow, molding into yourself, making a better fit;
Your past doesn't need you,
Nor do you need it.

The past is gone,
It'll only return in your dreams;
Sometimes that's hard and saddening,
But that's only as it seems-

See, the past is growing more
Each and every day;
Just let the past continue on,
And go your separate ways.

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.

There are far better things ahead than we leave behind,
Or so I have read somewhere,
From some famous author or speaker or whatever.

There are far better things and people and moments ahead, I've come to find;
It's true. The past becomes so, evaporates into thin air,
Only allowing what's to come next- the better.

The better sometimes takes its time to arrive,
And doesn't always make itself known;
Sometimes it's under your nose and you haven't a clue.

Sometimes it's easy to attain, sometimes you strive
To even have enough eyesight to be shown
What is so much better ahead that what is behind, what you knew.

The past is where it is for a reason,
And I've come to accept that people will
Fall behind in time and become mere memories,

Though that's okay when you understand that they'll come and go like seasons,
It's okay that people remain still
In time and never return just to please

The insatiable want for people from your past-
No, people will leave.
It will hurt, you will cry, you will lose.

And when others arrive, and they last
Beyond the fights that make us upset and grieve,
Past the small incidents that ultimately help us choose

Who is worth the fight,
Who is worth the time,
Who is worth the effort, because without a doubt

You will accept that some just might
Thankfully stick around- I've come to find
That this is what I've been hearing about.

It's comforting to
Know that though you are far from
Me, literally,

Metaphorically,
We still reside under the
Same sky, the same stars.

It's all we have in
Common these days, and that's fine,
So long that you know

The stars are the ways
I miss you, the sky as vast
As holes in my heart.

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".

This is not a poem.
This is an overview of my day.
Today I told my ex boyfriend off because he didn't value me the way I deserved. I'll probably end up crying myself to sleep again because I liked him a lot, but when it boiled down to it he didn't make time for me nor did he realize that I can walk away. I dated another guy before him and he didn't value me either. Life is short and I don't have time for boys who don't kiss me hard and give me their all.

Now to be fair, I am just a girl. I'm 18, I'm loud and passionate and most definitely a hand full. I write poetry, mostly about people I love. I love hard. I feel a lot. I like to hike and read and be around my friends and buy CDs and go concerts. I love cuddling and kissing. I can't stand clowns and obnoxiously loud, piercing noises. I need green tea AND coffee to get through the day. I love calf socks. I'm insecure about my stomach and my attractiveness. I love my smile. I feel most at ease watching sunsets. I can't wait for the day when someone looks at me as if I'm perfect, because I know I'm not.

I'm average. I am no more than a girl, so sometimes I doubt that I deserve what I ask out of relationships. Not everyone will think I am worth it. I'm not worth it to everyone. But I can't forget that I do deserve the best. I feel everyone does and that definition of "best" differs for everyone. I know that life is too short to be with anyone who makes you feel unloved. I know life is too short to be quiet about love. Love can't be boring or easy because that's a lie. Love is fighting and trying and working with someone else. Life is mediocre in so many different ways; love and dating can't be so. It's never convenient and you have to make time. There is never a good time, you just have to make time. You have to love yourself and believe you are worth the best even if you sometimes doubt it. I am just a girl, but someday someone is going to say that I am the girl.

Have a backbone. Stand tall for yourself. Leave anyone who doesn't think you're ******* beautiful and absolutely worth trying for. Make sure you know that not everyone shows effort the same way, and it's okay if some types of effort aren't good enough for you. Walk away even if your feet drag. Be your own person, let someone chase you. Let someone work for you. Reciprocate. Repeat if it doesn't work. Love yourself enough to be by yourself instead of sleeping in someone's arms that don't hold you close enough.

Today I told someone to make the **** time for me or he could kiss my ***. I told him I am not fleeting moments or spare seconds. I am light years beyond his effort. I am beyond what he can give me. He's a good person but not the person for me. So I walked away. And I'll cry myself to sleep tonight about it. But I did what was right for me, because I deserve the best out there even if I'm just a girl.

This isn't a poem. This is my life and how losing people sometimes leads to finding better ones. If you read this, best of luck. You deserve it, because losing me must hurt like hell. That's how it feels for you too. You'll find other people. You're a blip in my sky and your star burned out. Doesn't mean that you, or I, won't shine in someone else's galaxy. I am just a girl, but I'm not your girl.

Missing people comes in like the tide-
Sometimes, it's so far out that if
I stand far enough away on the shore,
There's no way it can even touch me.

Other times, it's so high that
No matter how many times I step back,
The tide follows and gets closer and closer
Until it swallows my ankles, sending my feet to sink in the sand.

You're far out like a low tide,
Seemingly blending with the horizon-
You're only a sunset fading
Away into the night sky.

Missing you is high tide,
Like the waves engulfing every inch
Of the shore, the same way missing you
Engulfs my heart sometimes.

I am not meant for spare moments or free time.
I am not a check on your to-do list.
I do not fall under weekly, monthly or annually.
I can't be satisfied with your accumulated seconds and fleeting minutes.

I am meant for someone who carves out time.
I am meant to be held and loved without the sound of a clock's tick in the background.
I am deserving of lengthy stares and long kisses.
I fall into arms that hold me long, that hold me all night.

I am not your spare time.
I am not your fleeting seconds.
I am so much more than that.