maybe I am not
meant to fall in love with you
maybe nobody

that i've been reading your poetry
(on the new front page)
and,

I ******* love
your words; your worlds;
it's like i'm,
    there. right there,
with you.

you see, i didn't do what you do--
         write my story aloud
--when i was fifteen, or even twenty-two

just an inch off the ground
                        i confided in clouds
stayed lost (was a puff too proud)

that was then, sure, but even today
   (it's 11:11, now)
putting any of it down
committing to this word, not that
this sentiment,
      not that
this meaning
       (and not simultaneously that)
              is walking through fire

and so, for leading the way
           let me just say,
                       i love you

and please,
don't ever stop.

When I die
I hope my passing disturbs
the universe so much
that even Atlas's knees quiver

It is those nights again
Just after you switched off the lights
And hurried beneath your blankets
You were trying to shut your eyes
But then the world started to brighten up
Ray of sun breaks through your broken window pane
You washed your face
Checking on the mirror
“Okay, not bad.”
Looks up at the sky and asked:
“Did you talk to him today?”

“Did I talk to him today?”
Looks up the night sky and said:
“Okay not bad.”
Checked on the mirror
Washed my face
As soft light came through our broken window pane
The world started to dim down
I tried to shut my eyes
Hurried beneath my blankets
Switched off the lights
It has been those nights again

They say home is where your family is, where the 4 walls and white picket fence that surround you, indicate you are a family,
No.
You see, beyond that perfect picket fence, my home is torn,
And walls are not my home
'cause walls are my constriction, my never-ending pain,
They are my confinement, depression, fear and isolation.
Maybe home is where the heart is, but my heart is lost.

you told me you were tired of living

i couldn't help but picture you
sitting on the edge of your bed
glaring at the bottom of a trash can
wishing you could throw up your last breath
rather than feel the nausea of a steady beating heart

i pictured you
hugging your knees on the bathroom floor
hands grabbing your mouth and chest
begging for both to stop moving
as tears leak out of red eyes in steady streams

i pictured you
wide awake as the hours steadily march towards sunrise
unable to move because the world kept you pinned to the floor
and you watch the clock tick and tick
feeling as though every minute was just another wasted

i pictured you
hurting in a way you couldn't bear
and i want to grab you and hold you
until the very sadness that makes you feel this way
seeps into my skin just so you can breathe

i can't help but picture you this way
because it is the way i was when i told you those very words
that i was tired of living
so i will do anything to make sure you never feel that way
and i will do anything to protect you from hurting

s.s

when you are young and naive,
your guardians will sit you down
and give you a speech about
how you can be anything you want to be.
they will look down at you with soft eyes
and say "anything you can dream, you can be"
and, you will believe it
because you are naive.

when you are a little older and a little less naive,
your guardians will sit beside you on the couch
and they'll say with hopeful eyes
"what classes will you pick?"
and they will give you a speech about
how you can be anything you want to be
and you will think for a moment before choosing.
and you will ignore how your guardians look away as you do
because you are naive.

when you are even older and even less naive,
your guardians will bring you out to dinner at your favorite place
and order your favorite food even though it is expensive
and they will look at you with nervous eyes as they ask
"what do you want to do with your life?"
and you will wait for the speech about
how you can be anything you want to be
but, it will never come
and you will stay silent for the rest of the night
because you are not naive.