I write about days I hate
I write about boys
I write about Pleaidians
I write about chips ahoy
I like cookies a lot,
But I like aliens more
I like being a girl
Some people think I'm a *****
This one is for me
This one is it
A poem for my life
A somewhat sum of it
I like to write about falling in love
Falling out, down, or around love
I like falling
Fast, and with passion
I like catching my breath
When something sudden happens
I like closing my eyes
I like playing with my fears
I like challenging myself,
Because I know I can hadle it
I am harder than stone,
I am tougher than scales
I am coming on fast
I am now setting sail
Do not doubt what you can not understand
If you can comprehend one thing
It's that I am taking a stand
I am smart
I am right
I write within my own truth
I know what I am doing
This I promise you
Just hold on real tight
Preserver, and follow through
Be kind, and continue to work in the name of peace
I sincerely love you

Fragile.
So very delicate.
Like the Angel placed at the top of the tree.
She watches over everyone, and makes sure they are okay.
She makes sure everyone is happy and safe.
There is no one to watch over her.
She is too fragile.

I want you to hold my hand.
Hold my hand so tight that my bones break and every crack whispers how much you really need me. The space between my fingers should forget what it's like to be empty because you'll fix each and every crease. Light a fire in my palms and melt away any other touch other than your own.
I desire you.
I am something worth destroying. Can't you see that I would rather be a pile of broken floorboards and shattered glass than an abandoned house, having never been touched by you? Burn your name across my body and tattoo it onto my heart so I understand what it means to love with a passion.
I want to thank you.
You've made minutes feel like decades by holding me until my internal clock shattered and the only perception I had of time was the beating of your heart. You turned words I was too afraid to speak into currency and now I am a millionaire with nothing to show for it except your smile. You filled my eyes with stars and heart with assurance so when pieces of me died I still had something left to believe in. You never gave up on me when everyone else did.

Comfort is laying my head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while you run your fingertips up and down my spine.
Comfort is you holding me so close to you that I can almost feel your blood pulse through your veins.
Comfort is you randomly kissing me throughout the night while I'm asleep next to you.
Comfort is feeling your lips leave trails of kisses down my neck to my collarbones.
Comfort is feeling your fingers weaved through mine, tightening whenever someone got too close to me.
Comfort is missing your lips when I lean in for a kiss and all we can do is laugh at how clumsy I am.
Comfort is hearing you whisper sweet nothings in my ear while you run your hands down my body.
Comfort is tangling my fingers in your hair while you kiss me deeper than you ever have before.
Comfort is feeling your skin melt into mine.
Comfort is you.



                               B.S.

I am not going to sugar coat it, I hate you. I hate you for making me fall in love with you when you **** well knew we weren't going to work out. Why wouldn't we work out? Oh, because you're a ******* liar. I have no idea who you are. Your whole being is non-existent to me. You're not real. The sad part is, you didn't even fight to make me stay. There's no way in hell I would stay either way, but it would have been nice to know you actually did love me. Obviously every "I love you" was a lie too. I meant nothing to you. I hate you for making me feel important when we both know I am nothing. I will always be nothing. I'm just everyones toy that gets tossed in the corner whenever they're tired of playing with me. That is all I will ever be. I just wish you saw me differently.


                                B.S.

A Solemn girl, in a red faded hoodie,
Sits outside the door of her classroom.
Crying by the hasty tapping of her foot,
Her head hangs low enough to kiss the ground
Her tongue as a net, fights to capture
Oxygen streaming the air.
But it descends a heavy weight
Into the core of her stomach,
Where the last of her exuberance
Awaits a dismal death of acidity.
Sentences habituate themselves
In the dark spaces between icy eyes.
Relentlessly reminding her ears of the reasons
Why she will never be like all the other
Fluffy cotton clouds
In the immeasurable crystal sky
Why she doesn’t gracefully float
With them, in packs of cloudy friendships.
What she cannot see,
Is the reason she cannot be a cloud,
Is because she is destined one day
To become the sun.