She has galaxies in her eyes
Her hope could fill oceans, and still have more to spare
When she opens her mouth, birds stop to listen
And rain reverently relents in its pounding.

She has galaxies in her eyes
Her laughter is infectious, a disease you want to catch.
And when she’s sad, you don't know what to do
It’s a shock, because she’s always grinning

She has joy at her fingertips
Her imagination fills libraries
When she sleeps, her dreams manifest themselves
Becoming wonderful stories that you wish to live out

She has joy at her fingertips
A bright aura follows her like a kitten,
And wraps itself around everyone she touches

She has joy at her fingertips
And galaxies in her eyes
And everywhere she goes, you smile.

Dark can disappear any monster.
Rescuing children from their nightmares,
While simultaneously creating them.

I hate it when someone breaks your heart.
Because I can't do anything to piece it back together.

I hate it when someone breaks your heart.
Because I want to be your knight in shining armor
And rally forces to defend you from the gaze of your former love.

But even with the armor and sword
I can't find the forces to help me in my battle
And a knight without an army may be able to charge the castle, but will have a hell of a time trying to take it over.

I hate it when someone breaks your heart
Because whenever you hurt, I feel it, and trust me baby, I never want you to be in pain again.

When you texted me back
and said you were in the building,
my heart skipped.

I couldn't tell
if it was from relief that you responded,
or anxiety that you were so near.

I knew that if I saw you
I would either break down,
or become too numb to function.

But if I did not,
my mind would think up awful situations,
and send my panic level to the stars.

I can't help but wonder:
if we weren't so close,
would things be different?

I like to think
that if we were further apart,
I would have gone out to find you.

But instead, I stayed where I was.
Hoping you wouldn't pass by,
while at the same time needing to catch a glimpse.

You didn't text again

“Nasty Woman”
Olivia Leap

In a society where a man can rise to power with statements like:
"What did these geniuses expect when they put men & women together?"
When asked about military ****** assault,

When he can claim that: "the look obviously matters...like you wouldn't have your job if you weren't beautiful."
When talking to female reporters,

And against powerful women, more qualified than him, one who decides to try and move against him, he mentions her husband "disagreed" with some of her positions,
As if the husband had say over her actions.

I am proud of my gender.

I am a Nasty Woman.
I am female and I am strong.
I will not accept that one who is so offensive and unqualified as this has any power over my mind.

I am a Nasty Woman,
And I will stand with my fellow transgender sisters, my cis sisters, my queer and gay and bisexual sisters, my immigrant sisters, my black sisters, my muslim sisters, my minority sisters, my oppressed sisters and we will not step down.

I am a Nasty Woman
And I will not back down when approached by racists and sexists who believe that the future is somehow going to be better.

I am a Nasty Woman
Who will not forget that a man can say he would look a gorgeous woman in: "the fat, ugly face of hers" with no repercussions,
That a man obviously racist, fascist and misogynistic can somehow sweep through our country and rise to power.

I am a Nasty Woman
Who is disgusted that someone who states he would date his own daughter if they weren't related
Is praised as a powerful man.

I am a Nasty Woman
Who is deeply upset that people even think of supporting
A man who states that all that matters is to have: "a young, and beautiful, piece of ***" beside you
That a man who obviously shows indifference and disgust for those different than himself and his ideal views, has so much power.

I am a Nasty Woman,
And I refuse to respect someone who has so little respect for me.

I am a Nasty Woman
And I can't wait for one year, two years, four years from now when
The people will take back our country from a "***** grabber"
Who couldn't respectfully hold a debate without dropping the "nasty woman" card,
Which I am proud to now carry
And will carry forever

Pants are overrated.
Our ancestors didn't wear clothes,
While today we cover up
Everything that we can.

Pants are overrated.
Shielding us
From what we know exist.
Covering everything.

Pants are overrated.
But, if someone didn't wear them
There would be an uproar.
I wonder why?

Days of ring around the rosies
Pocket full of posies
Ashes ashes
We all fall down.
Days of bluebells
Cockleshells,
Evie ivy over.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
But we all know that it ended badly.
Wasn't it great
When we didn't know the history
Behind our childhood?

I was watching the fish a few days ago, and decided to join them.
Their flickering fins slowly glinted as the sun sank beside me.
I came prepared: purple swimsuit, goggles, and a glowstick
But I left behind a life preserver.
It was on the shore, just in case, but as my feet graced the waves it no longer felt necessary to take precautions.

The golden red hues faded as the water got cold and I continued to drift.
My glowstick glanced off scales and shells, and my hair dye ran like blood around me.

Humans aren't supposed to be able to live without oxygen.
The body will shut down in at least four minutes with severe brain damage, and the possibility of death,
But how can one think of that in moments like this?

Even when all that is left is green, man-made light,
Waiting two seconds in murky liquid, the water comes alive.
Anemones waved as I sunk deeper, their glow penetrating the black.
Schools of fish twirled between my thighs as I landed softly on a coral bed, then slipped off into the sand.

Bubbles brewed from my nose.

Eyes burning as my gaze roved
I was blind in the darkness.
My chest began to tighten,
But who cared?
I had been watching fish, and found myself instead.

Darling, I know that you are
Confused.
Upset.
Lost.
Out of control.
And don't know why.
Have you ever punched the wall just to hear the smash of your hand crunching against the hard paint?
Darling please, you don't need to.
Just take a breath and hug yourself instead.
To feel the twinge of pain that radiates from your knuckles to your fingers to your palms, and, if you hit hard enough, to your shoulder blades?
Darling please, don't hurt yourself.
Too many people have done that already
Have you ever taken your hand down and stared at your hand, amazed that no evidence of your pain and anger and confusion is even there?
Darling please, you aren't alone.
You just need to stop hiding.
Have you ever stared at your mirror and begged your reflection to tell you why you have this gaping hole within you and
Darling please
All you want is answers
Darling please
All you need is a reason
Darling please
All you need is love
Darling please
Remember that love is all around you.
You just need to lower your fist
Open your palms,
Turn away from the mirror,
And listen.

Sometimes
Silence works wonders
On the soul

Falling off of a bridge
Was not my idea of a fun night.
But then again, we were always too different,
To be comfortable together.
That may be why I let go
When you told me that it was
80 feet down
And the water would be like the ground.
Falling off of a bridge
Was not what I expected
But I guess it's fine.
Because you didn't catch me.

When I was young,
My shadow was my best friend,
While the dark shapes on my walls at night
Gave me nightmares

I would make sure to stay in the light
As I walked down the street,
Keeping my shadow with me,
Playing games

When I was young,
I didn't know that a shadow
Was simply a place that no light could touch

I thought the other-me
Was a whole new creature,
That would grow and shrink,
Hide beneath me or tower over my head.

When I was young,
The shadows on my walls scared me,
Because, unlike my personal shadow,
They were twisted

A pile of laundry would look like a wolf
Waiting to pounce on me.
Tree's shadows on my window
Were closed hands,
Tap tap tapping,
Trying to get in.

When I was young,
I believed that shadows had minds of their own
And mine was the only one that wouldn't hurt me at night.

Clouds are a mystery to all children.
They look so solid
Until they get close.
And disappear into air and water.

Come in children
Sit and listen as I spin you tales of spiderwebs and moon dust.
Come in children,
Sit and drink the dew of night flowers, and eat the cake of fairies.
Watch my sky-mobile change the days.
Hear my old clock tick, and my chime ****** in the wind.
Come in children,
And stay

I sit at my computer

And stare at the screen

Enveloped in the monotonous repetitions running through my head

Words of doubt and fear

And sometimes joy

All in a single tonality
Leaving my emotions meaningless

My dearest.
Words cannot describe how much I long to be in your embrace.
Your warmth that envelops me
And your softness.

Your tantalizing smell of clean laundry
And painted wood.
Your caress engulfs me,
Filling my dreams with peace.

I hate when I have to kiss you goodbye in the mornings
Walking out the door
With a final longing gaze at your beauty and snugness

But I can remember that you are always waiting for me
When I walk into the room
And dive into the warmth of the covers
And return to you
My bed

I am a paradox

Paradox
Noun  
par·a·dox \ˈper-ə-ˌdäks, ˈpa-rə-\
                 -One (as a person, situation, or action) having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases

I as a person claim to desire physical contact and love
But as soon as I obtain these my skin crawls and my heart clenches and I am filled with an overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety

While I have a crushing, nearly debilitating fear of public speaking, I can stand on a stage and sing or act before billions of people.

Constantly I wish to share my whole life with others
While simultaneously coveting secrecy and hiding my burdens and fears and flaws from those who could heal and help and dissuade

Paradox
Noun  
par·a·dox \ˈper-ə-ˌdäks, ˈpa-rə-\
something (such as a situation) that is made up of two opposite things and that seems impossible but is actually true or possible

I am a paradox
And its hard for even me to makes sense of myself

I wish I could feel the burn of your lips as they press into mine,
But all my mind can comprehend is the tight pain as your knife digs into the broken edges of my already curving spine.
Your eyes are sunken and hollow, and they match the shell that used to contain my heart.
Blood still pumps, brown and mudded, a lack of oxygen from your lips ******* the life out of my body as they burn
As your hand twists and my dark blood trails like thick syrup, coating your fingers.

Your cold fingers, almost as cold as my feet, circulation slowing, face paling but you don't move away.
You seem to enjoy it as you pull me closer, crushing my arms with your own, muffling the beating of my heart as it slows.

I wish you could feel the cracks in my lips but I forgot, and put on that lipstick you like so much this morning.
Didn't think that you would take it as a sign.

As a sign that like that cold day behind the tree I would accept a kiss
As a sign that I would giggle as you surprised me with another three weeks later
Or a sign that, when I said it was over, when I turned around to get on the bus I would be waiting for you to spin me around.

Because I wasn't.

I don't wish I could feel your lips burn as you kiss me.
I wish I could ignore the heat and focus on the dimming sensation as your knife pulls out,
But then again
I guess I never was any good at noticing when I was killing myself for you

When we rode by on our bicycles,
The leaves laughed.
As we tried to crush them with our tires.

When you and I cleaned the backyard,
The leaves laughed.
As we raked them, and I jumped into the pile.

When we walked down the wooded path,
The leaves laughed.
As we all hiked happily together again.

Right now, one of you is singing and the other is still in bed.
So I'm taking the time to think about where you guys will be in a few years.
In two years, I'll hopefully be traveling, getting out of here.
But you, Jaida darling, you're going to be a sophomore..
And Celia, you'll be in your seventh grade year.
(Who knows, maybe you'll have grown)
But to what I actually wanted to tell you today..

You know I've been sad
I've been angry
I've yelled and cried
And mom has yelled and cried
And so has dad.

And you both have been through that too.
So please, please remember
That when you finally get to high school
And everything seems kind of terrible
Like it has for me
You have an older sister who's been through
At least some part of the emotions you're feeling.

And don't go looking for help
In shiny blades
And smaller portions
Because yes, yes they will give you momentary satisfaction.
The sting and the crimson beauty,
The rush of pride on the scale.
But in the end they're just problems.
Problems, not helping, but taking away from who you can truly be.

So remeber.
Life is temporary,
So revel in every minute of it.
Being sad, depressed, upset, or angry
All of those feelings are okay.
Just don't hide them.
Because I don't want to lose any of you

Love
Me.

That's what I am
A little rough around the edges,
Because I don't want a perfect figure.
I wear what I want, and
Don't brush my hair
(Mainly 'cause there's no point.
It's so short it'll just get messed up again.)
I don't take kindly to being startled.
I flinch so bad
That people usually say:
"What the ****!? I wasn't going to do anything!"
And ask me what's the matter.
Nothing's wrong.
At least not now.
I've just learned,
That it's easier to get through life
A little rough around the edges.

You are one of the most amazing friends I've ever known
Because I feel happy around you.
You're a talented person who, to tell the truth
I often envy
Because you seem so brave
And know what you love in life.
You are so easy to be around
Making me smile
(I apologize for times when you weren't joking and I laughed anyways)
Your writing speaks to everyone
And inspires greatness.
Signature black sweatshirt
That I mainly only see you without in Biology
And awesome green glasses
(I really do like your glasses)
Mainly this poem is saying thank you
Even though it didn't really in the beginning
But yeah, it's a thank you, Ezra
For being my friend.

I stared through the glass
Around the museum display
And hallucinated your face.

You were looking blindly through the box,
Not at the art within, or at my face parallel to yours,
Seemingly deaf to the conversation of your companions.

I walked slowly around the glass rectangle,
And only a few feet separated us.
We gazed at each other
Recognition still not dawning on either of our faces.

Minutes seemed to pass
Before your eyes brightened
And we collapsed into the others' embrace.

I breathed in the cigarette smoke
That lingered on your jacket,
And listened to your heartbeat
As I refused to let go,
Barely believing your arms were around me again.

It still almost seems like a dream
Like a fantasy I've placed in my head
To satisfy my longing to talk with you.

But it's not
It really happened.
You wrapped me up in your arms,
Only letting go when it was absolutely necessary.

When we parted ways
After two hours of pleasant company
Chai and coffee in a bookstore
And huge grins plastered on our faces
The memory of a beautiful day stuck
As a protective blanket for the rest of the day.

We rode a fine line
   between
Kink
       and
              Abuse
And it scares me that
   I couldn't tell the difference
   until
You
       broke
               Me

I have absolutely no idea
Where that large stain on my ceiling came from
But it's getting larger every day.
It used to be only really the size of a quarter
(I measured)
But now it's the size of my palm.
I've asked my parents,
But they say its probably just from moisture.
It hasn't rained.
They say they'll get it fixed, but
A stain the size of my hand
Right over my bed,
Getting bigger every day,
Is a little disconcerting.

When I start to wonder what I could be doing with my life,
I listen to music.
I lay underneath my bed,
Staring at the slats.

I think about why I'm not going outside,
Why I can't schedule anything,
Or even get the motivation to finish maybe ten minutes of homework.
So I scream the lyrics.

Almost loud enough to be heard through my tightly shut door.

When the music is overwhelming,
Blocking out the world,
I cry the words, loud and long
Until my throat is hoarse,
And I have slipped into a comfortable numbness.

Here, I lay on the carpeted floor
The wooden slats a few inches from my face,
As all thoughts are blasted away
And I can be at peace.

There's that moment
Between
          Being awake
     And
Being asleep

When you think you've been lying conscious for hours.
And you look at the clock.
And it's been
         Four
     Whole
Minutes.

Cold fingers
Reaching for warmth

Broken nails
Clawing at slick walls

Bloated figures
Floating in icy water.

As we say goodbye

She's so beautiful

            With her drooping eyes and tired smile

She's so beautiful

             When she wakes up with cowlicks and sleep residue on her lashes

She's so beautiful

               Her sweatpants Mondays and princess weeks

She's so beautiful
She's so beautiful
Shes so beautiful

She's so beautiful

              With her sadness and joy and expression and kindness
              With every word of truth

And every word of love

I am smart
I am brave
I am confident
I am strong
I am loved

I am smart
Smart enough to know that I control my emotions
Not the other way around
Smart enough to understand that every crack
In my soul will heal eventually
Smart enough to acknowledge that life isn’t easy
And if it was I’d be bored as Hell

I am brave
Brave enough to be able to cross the street
Without holding someone’s hand
Brave enough to stand up
And walk down an unlit street at night
Brave because if I’m not, I won’t be able
To protect myself and the ones I love

I am confident
Confident to wear what I want
Because if other people don’t like it, I don’t care because it sure as Hell’s not on their bodies
Confident because even though I may feel lost when thinking about the future, that doesn't mean I’m not gonna kick *** at whatever I do
Confident because as long as I do what I love
There’s no way I can ever go wrong

I am strong
Stronger than two days ago
When I was broken
Stronger than every time I let one word
Or phrase break my soul
Stronger than yesterday
When a single note could conjure tears

I am strong
I am strong enough to put on my band-aids by myself
I don’t need mommy to cover up the blood
I am strong enough to put down the pain
And pick up a pen as a new way of escape
I am strong enough to pull a blanket around my shoulders
And glue my courage back into my body to keep going one more day

And I am loved
I am loved by the people surrounding me
With every word and touch they give
I am loved not because of my face and appearance
But because of my soul and my kindness
I am loved through every freeway and pothole
In this highway we all are rolling down

But most importantly
I am loved by myself
I am loved by myself
I love every inch of my body,
My mind
My soul
My heart.
And even without first having
Intelligence
Bravery
Courage
Or Strength
Having love creates it all
For love is the strongest support

When the sun brushes the lip of the earth
The rays reach out to grasp the clouds
And pull the day into the world.

Hello sunshine. The sky today is bright and blue, but there's a cloud coming across from the right side of my window. Hello cloud. Are you going to rain today? But listen, here comes the wind. Hello wind. Can you soften, and leave the cloud above me? Thank you. Hello rain. It pitters and patters as I drift off to sleep. Closing my eyes to the lullaby of nature. But wait! Here comes the sun. Hello morning! It's time for another day.

I almost forgot
What it was like to breathe in air
To be able to live without tears.
I almost forgot
But then I realized that you needed me
More than I could ever need you
And I stayed.
Because us, together,
Might just keep us going

Life teaches us lessons
That give us nightmares.
Lessons that nobody should learn.
Life teaches us that lies make up society
And that your heart is not safe anywhere.

Life teaches us lessons
That make us smile.
Lessons that change our lives.
Life teaches us how to stand back up
And that no matter how low you go, to find a ladder.

Life teaches us lessons.
And only if you learn from them,
Can you keep going.

One cup of dreams,
Three tablespoons of midnight whispers,
Two pinches of starlight,
And a slice of the first story you ever heard,
Mix all this in a small bowl until smooth
And spread evenly on your mother's old cookie sheet.
Bake at 350 degrees
For the time length of your favorite song from your childhood
Until a perfect golden color
Then let cool before serving.

Our types of love are different,
And I just can't try any more.
I'm moving on, but trust me;
I'll never truly lock my door.

You are my friend.
Those four words are light.
A sun in a universe of darkened planets.
Because a friend cares.
Checks up on you.
Can make the darkest days
At least a little brighter.
And...
Well, those are the best things.
You are my friend.

Chopin plays
In a dark room
As rain slowly falls

Deep grooves
Cut into the
Oak table.
Marking days
Passed.
Days dead
And gone.
Sunrises
And sunsets.
Pencil marks
Lightly drawn on the
Peeling walls.
Marking heights
Passed.
Years dead
And gone.
Sunsets
And sunrises
Of memories.

Watch the light leave us
Keeping us all in the dark
Until the day comes

The orange and blue flames of candlelight memories from birthdays come and gone illuminate brown stains from spilt ink and paper cuts on your family's hardwood desk.
The soft mahogany that carried the weight of library books with cracked bindings, that weathered broken glass, finger scratches and runny noses.
The writing table that saw crayons and watercolors fade into pen and ink and now your old pencil with the grooves worn down right where you're used to so you can hold it without cramps as you scrawl through notebook after notebook and bite your tongue.

You can't let the heat of words burn inside your throat as you sew your mouth shut with the red thread your mom used to patch your overalls with in fifth grade.
The sagging brown and blue jeans with baby yellow fabric covering that rip in the knee where the neighborhood boys pulled your ponytails and knocked you down.
When you felt your palms scrape against the concrete and you were finally enlightened to the fact that they don't tease because they like you, but because they like to see you in pain.

Never forget that morning when that pain finally ****** you off enough that when you rode your purple “girls bike” up to the rack before saying bye to your daddy you purposefully ran your back tire over a puddle to splash the group's new ninja turtle shoes.
The sneakers your neighbor had and you were jealous of because you wear a dress and he wouldn't let you borrow because they weren't gonna match, no matter if you were trying to climb the fence in his backyard and your bare feet got scraped in the end.
The stinging of the metal matches the stinging in your palms from being tripped and the stinging in your fingertips from the days of paper cuts from making collages on that old wood desk and you write.

You write loud enough that the scratching of your graphite on paper echoes around the room and you drown out slamming doors and harsh conversations.
Your fingers are as quick as the automatic whisk that you always turned up to high when your mommy would turn around, just so you could watch the cookie batter get just… too… close… to the edge of the bowl before shutting it off in the nick of time.
In a split second moment your lead breaks and you stare blankly at the scribbled mangled words that travel in circles around your book.

And the embarrassment and anger and understanding that this world's filled with ******* wells up behind your blank eyes and bubbles in between your teeth, seeping through the red thread.
It dribbles down your chin and creates a pool atop of the grey words the clear saliva of sadness eats away at the paper and wood like acid.
Imagine what it was doing to your stomach, but don't think too much about it, just pick up the safety scissors and ignore the ocean inside.

Those scissors aren't just for paper snowflakes anymore, they're not plastic in pretty colors, no now they're heavy and metal and cold in your hands.
They're built for adults, for greying and melting faces, for the weight of a world that ignores beautiful broken bottles on the sidewalk and walks by a cute cat,
Or says “It's Just A Girl Thing.”
Or “Boys Will Be Boys.”
And they make you wish you were back blowing bubbles in your treehouse as you sneak a juice box and pretending you're the  captain of a pirate ship.
Instead of sitting at this desk with a broken pencil and dripping face.

10/25/2015
Is when I finally said
"I am done"

I guess there must be a god
Or something like him.

Because you are alive
And thats awesome

But two other men are dead
So I gotta ask

God. If you exist for real
Why are those who do good

The ones injured
While the one who inflicts

Stands tall.

I lost inspiration
Let it leak out of my boat
And into my lake.

But I've dredged it up with my broken net
And found myself again.

When summer’s light is gone and winter’s come,
The birds all sing and soon they will take flight.
A soft and soothing beating of a drum
Will play as Pan brings in the coming night.
As fast as summer’s light has gone away,
So flees the love you have for even I.
Oh how I wish that I could make you stay,
But like a bird you must return and fly.
In truth all that I wish is for your joy
And if you need be free then hasten, go.
I beg you please, my heart do not destroy
It could not weather any beat or blow.
      I beg you, venture on your way my dear
      But never please forget who you’ve left   here.

Sitting on the old faded couch, burying my head and mind in a book
Blocking out your voices, tears, soothing sounds of comfort.
This moment cracked my views,
Shattered the window I looked at life through,
Broke the mirror I saw myself, and you, in.
I realised that you were human, and it scared me.
I saw that you could be hurt, broken, changed, and I didn't know how to take it.
Your emotions made me scared.
I couldn't cry in front of you, without feeling guilty about hearing your tears.
As the child I was, I expected life to be a constant,
That you would be there, that no voice would be raised, no tear would fall.
Because I was wrong, I learned,
That when you cried, I cried,
When you were angry, I hid in fear.
That when you left, standing by the window was futile,
And you would only return when you wanted to,
Not when I needed you.
Sitting on the old faded couch, burying my heart and mind in a book,
I shied away from your emotions, because I was broken.
Because of your voices, tears, and soothing noises,
I no longer knew who you were.