I am a poet writing about my pain.
I am person recovering and trying to gain.
I am your daughter who is trying to learn.
I am your sister who is starting to turn.
I am your friend acting like I am fine.
I am a wisher wishing you weren't mine.
I am a girl who thinks about suicide.
I am a teenager who pushes her feelings aside.
I am a student who knows nothing.
I am the one asking you to care.
I am your best friend hoping you will be there

tears in my eyes
my fears alive
dreams were lost
hopes were dry
all alone
breaking of my heart
no longer wanting to be alive
to play my part
my family hadn't a care for me
my friends barely spoke a word to me
I feel left out
not a soul cared that I exist        
and was actually there
but as times flew by, memory of me disappears

But  the memories we shared
will help in my heart's repair

Dancing to our favorite songs
sleepovers and late- night talks

Laughing until we shed tears
sharing our secrets and fears.

First loves and first heartbreaks  healing ourselves with milkshakes.

Driving around with nothing to do.

Exploring all of the world with you .


you were there for it all ,

Always  ready for a call

So grateful you were my friend until the very end.

Life with you here was better  but you'll be in heart forever.

I'd rather have the thought of you
To hold against my heart,
My spirit to be taught of you
With west winds blowing,
Then all the warm caresses
Of another love's bestowing,
Or all the glories of the world
In which you had no part.

I'd rather have the theme of you
To thread my nights and days,
I'd rather have the dream of you
With faint stars glowing,
I'd rather have the want of you,
The rich, elusive taunt of you
Forever and forever and forever unconfessed
Then claim the alien comfort
Of any other's breast.

O lover! O my lover,
That this should come to me!
I'd rather have the hope of you,
Ah, Love, I'd rather ***** for you
Within the great abyss
Then claim another's kiss-
Alone I'd rather go my way
Throughout eternity.

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips
Feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
Have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice.
I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
My vague memory of you. I live with pain
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreparable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.

Sometimes life offers a moment
A time of pure enjoyment
The hard work is done
Sleepless nights are gone

Only once does graduation day come
Bring on the parties and fun
Do today just as you choose
Don’t miss it with a snooze

Put away you worries
Put away your fears
Think only of your success
Let this day be the best

Make the day last a while
Help friends and family smile
Thank everyone and give gifts
Remember those who lifted your spirits

Be by yourself for a while
Bask in your glory with pride
Enjoy simply feeling satisfied
Sit back with a big smile

Don’t hold back, really celebrate
Join every party and stay up late
Squeeze out every last ounce of fun
Have laughs and group hugs by the ton

Go to bed with nothing left to play
Don’t wish you had made more of today
By then tomorrow is nearly here
Have no regrets, wake up free

Have an exhilirating time at graduation
Make it a day of celebration
A day you will remember for a while
In later years you will still smile

Her hands held me gently from the day I took my first breath.
Her hands helped to guide me as I took my first step.
Her hands held me close when the tears would start to fall.
Her hands were quick to show me that she would take care of it all.

Her hands were there to brush my hair or straighten a wayward bow.
Her hands were often there to comfort the hurts that didn't always show.
Her hands helped hold the stars in place and encouraged me to reach.
Her hands would clap and cheer and praise when I captured them at length.

Her hands would also push me, though not down or in harm's way.
Her hands would punctuate the words, just do what I say.
Her hands sometimes had to discipline, to help bend this young tree.
Her hands would shape and mold me into all she knew I could be.

Her hands are now twisting with age and years of work,
Her hand now needs my gentle touch to rub away the hurt.
Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be.
Her hands are the reason I am me