Life is like tubing.
If you don't make an effort to hold on,
To stay on track,
You won't.
If the person closest to you shoves you,
You might slide off,
Or you could simply hang on and try harder.
If the people with you help you and
Tell you where to hold on and when to lean,
You might make it.
But even if you fall off, the driver of the boat of your life,
God, will always come around and pick you up,
Make sure you're okay,
And send you on your way again.
Life is like tubing.
Hang on and
Never lose faith in your driver.

It’s bad when I run
Out of titles for all my
Sad poems about you.

Sometimes I wish I could cry forever,
Because once is never enough for all
Of my emotions, all my bitter, selfish emotions.
I want to feel the waterfall on my face, struggle to breathe,
Disgust myself as the tears pool up on my neck.
I want to curl up in a protective ball, shut out the world,
And just let go.
Sometimes I wish I could cry
F
     o
           r
                e
                      v
                           e
                                 r
                                       .
                                            .
                                                 .

Did I fall for you the first time you said,
‘I love you’?
No, no, it was definitely before that.
Was it that time when you made
That corny joke, and your
Goofy grin made my day?
No, no, it was even before that.
Was it the time when you found me in the
Empty hallway, and brushed your
Fingers through my hair and told me
Everything would be alright?
No, it was still before that.
Was it the time that you told me about
Your struggling family,
And you looked me directly in the eyes and
I saw your firm resolve and your
Willingness to initiate change?
No, it wasn’t even then.
I fell in love with you when I was awake at 4
In the morning and I thought the whole world
Could hear me sobbing and I called you,
And you answered.
Maybe that makes me seem weak, but
I just wanted to tell you
When I f
                  e
                       l
                           l
                               .

I am trying to
Smile even though my heart
Still sobs over you.

Are you staying,
Or are you going?
And if you’re going,
How do I make you stay?
Would it make a difference if
I told you how I felt about you,
Told you that I’ve loved you
From the moment I met you?
If I told you how much
I miss you when you’re gone,
How you’re the last thing
On my mind at night,
And the first thing I think of when I wake?
If I told you how when I see you in a dream,
And begin to tell you how much
I care about you, the dream fades,
And I’m left with tear stains on my pillow?
Because if you stay,
I will love you with everything I have,
If you stay,
I will always be there for you,
If you stay,
I will have everything my heart has ever wanted,
But all of this will only happen,
If you stay.

Five years old we were,
When we promised that we would never
Leave each other,
That we'd be best friends forever.
Seven years old we were,
When you broke your leg at gymnastics, and I
Lay by your bed for hours, reading you
Every Golden Book ever printed.
Nine years old we were,
When I developed my first crush,
And together we giggled for hours, and I thought
My cheeks would be permanently blushing.
Eleven years old we were,
When you transferred to a different
School district and although it wasn't far,
Our farewell was plagued by sobbing.
Thirteen years old we were,
When we fought for the first time,
Something stupid about a guy, and I
Don't think you ever fully forgave me.
Fifteen years old we were,
When I went to your house, and your
Mom told me you were out at a party.
You hated parties.
Seventeen years old we were,
When I went to your national gymnastics meet,
Uninvited, of course, and afterwards you
Yelled at me in front of the cameras.
Nineteen years old we are,
I am off at college, and I haven't heard from you
In two years, and all I can think is
Where are you?
Twenty-one years old I am,
And I realize there is no "we" or "us'
Anymore, and I no longer care
Where you are.

I thank you God, for creating me female, for showing me that Strength doesn't always come from muscle.
I thank you God, for creating me a preacher's daughter, aware From my earliest days about what you have done for me.
I thank you God, for creating my red hair, making me unique Among my friends and peers.
I thank you God, for giving me great friends growing up, allowing Me to see the beauty of friendship from a young age.
I thank you God, for my smarts and intelligence that help me Excel in school, and my ability to help others who are struggling.
I thank you God, for my ability to make new friends easily, and Talk well with kids and adults alike.
I thank you God, for giving me my writing, soccer, and Photography talents, which I can use to praise Your holy name.
I thank you God, for giving me my way with children, and Allowing me love them and help them see you.
I thank you God, for those minutes of solace you give me in the Middle of the night, when I can't sleep and I don't know why.
I thank you God, for allowing me to love; my boyfriend, my Family and friends, animals, the majestic world you have created.
Thank you for the reassurance of your forgiveness, and all the Little things you do for me that I don't even recognize.
This list could go on and on, but you know my heart.
Thank you, God.

He was in love with her,
The kind of love that kept him up at night,
On the kind of nights that dragged on and on without respite.
He would fall asleep thinking of her,
Dream of her all night long,
And wake up with her name on his lips.
He turned a thousand shades of red whenever
He talked to her, and her gorgeous green eyes
Peeking out from behind her dark bangs made
Butterflies soar in his stomach.
But she was not in love with him,
And messed with his mind for fun.
She was with a different guy every night, and
He never knew that her true intentions
Were anything but true.
He reached for her, but his hand
Was only met by a shadow.

When you hurt, a part
Of me experiences
A share of your pain.

“I love you, but your laugh is so weird!”
“I love you, but you shouldn’t have
Failed that test.”
“I love you, but you shouldn’t go out in
That ugly dress.”
“I love you, but why is your car so *****?”
“I love you, but please at least try not to snore?”
“I love you, but keep your distance, okay?”
“I love you, but stop getting so
Worked up about things!”
“I love you, but your anxiety is hurting me.”
“I love you, but I don’t think this is
Going to work out.”
This is all my ears hear, but
My heart doesn’t hear it, comprehend it.
I just want you to know,
“I love you, but I’m not sure if I should.”

2018.
Loads of knowledge, literally at our fingertips,
Yet no one knows what to do with it.
We don’t want the billions of videos,
Facts, and pictures that are available to us.
As a human race,
We are craving something more.
We crave sunny days,
Gentle fingers through our hair,
Adorable newborn puppies running for the first time.
We crave a cozy family movie night,
Tucking obedient children into bed,
Sending them off to school the next morning with no worries.
We crave the fulfillment that our favorite meal brings,
The joy of spending a day with friends,
The comfort of a good night’s sleep.
Because the simple and everyday things
Are the ones we can never have.

He put all of his
Trust in the Savior, Jesus
Christ, and all was well.

I think it’s funny that
After faking your emotions
For so long, you lose track
Of what’s real and what’s not.
When you’ve been pretending to be happy
For so long, and suddenly
Those feelings become real,
Who are you to know?
Why shouldn’t the feelings
Be just another act that
Your brain hasn’t caught on to yet,
But that your heart remembers
Word for word.
Sometimes when you fake it
Till you make it, and you make it,
You don’t even believe your emotions.
But even though
It’s okay to not be okay,
It’s also okay to be okay.
Remember that.

We are the stars;
We are shining and twinkling,
Providing light for each other in our darkest times.
We are the stars;
Even though we may seem far apart,
We are always close in our hearts.
We are the stars;
We are beautiful and lovely,
Appearing perfectly tranquil,
Yet in reality, explosive.

He seemed to be the perfect guy,
Handsome, popular, athletic, and smart,
With his only flaw being his overprotective nature.
She seemed to be the perfect girl,
Beautiful, popular, kind, and loving,
With her only flaw being that she's too generous.
They seemed to be the perfect couple,
Buying little gifts for each other for no reason,
Sending cute messages every morning,
Always there when the other needed them.
It seemed to be the perfect break-up;
They said they still loved each other,
But thought they would be better
For each other down the road.
They said they would wait.
He seemed to be okay with it,
But at night he would cry into his pillow,
Thinking of nothing else but her,
Needing her by his side.
She seemed to be okay with it,
But some part of her believed it was her fault,
And when the razor came out,
She definitely was not okay with it.
They seemed to have gotten over it, and were now
Just “best friends”, but in reality, every day
They drifted further and further apart,
Until the person they claimed they were
So in love with was a complete stranger.
He seemed to be getting better;
He no longer stayed up at night crying, instead,
He had found other girls to
Take her place by his side.
She seemed to be getting better;
The bright flashing makeup was there
To help hide the fact that she still wore long sleeves.
Everything seemed to be okay,
They seemed to be okay.
But everything is not as it seems.

God, grant her strength to
Get through the day,
To simply keep breathing and
Not let anxiety and fear get the best of her.
You know what is best;
Please keep her safe in
Her hours of trial.
God, grant her courage.

Every year visits to grandparents occur,
And the grandkids have “grown so much,”
And they need to “put bricks on their heads”.
Every year the family is updated about
The sports and the activities,
The good dates and the not-so-good dates
Of the previous year,
The births and baptisms,
The deaths and funerals.
Every year we endure the
Sometimes awkward, always long conversations
With the friends we see just once a year,
Maybe less, and every year we seem
To get further and further apart,
And the conversations are shorter,
Maybe even just a “Hey”, and you
Wonder why we can’t talk to these people anymore.
Why do people so close to us in heart become
So much more hard to communicate with in person?
Is it technology, fooling us into thinking
That we are connected to each other, when really
We don’t know each other at all?
Is it time, slowly eroding our years of
Memories and similarities, leaving us
Longing for the “good old days” instead
Of embracing the new ones?
Is the problem simply us;
Are we not willing to create new memories,
Go through the stresses of trying to forge
A new relationship when distance
Becomes an issue?
Maybe that is the problem.
Yet no one is willing to fix it,
So every year is the same.
I’ll probably be writing a poem about this
Next year.

Not all fires start in the kitchen.
Not all love starts with the heart.
Don’t roam around the whole house
Uninvited before you get to know one room,
The most important room, the heart.
Get to know her heart before
You roam her body.
Not all fires start in the kitchen.
Not all love starts with the heart.

Weak and sensitive and delicate and fragile.  
I’m weak, the skimpy walls I’ve built around my mind
Are easily destroyed, never enough.
I’m sensitive, any little jolt or knock sending waves of
Hurt straight to my soul.
I’m delicate, a priceless China doll that can hardly be
Moved from the shelf for fear of irreparable cracks.
I’m fragile, needing someone to carress my heart, not allowing Anything to seep inside and break me.
But I’m supposed to be strong.
I’m supposed to have indestructible walls,
Tough skin,
An invincible, courageous presence,
Everything I need within myself.
But I don’t.
I just don’t.
Yet I lie daily to preserve this invincible image,
This confidence,
This strength.
And society believes it,
They welcome my transparent strength,
Seeing it as opaque,
Because they don’t want to deal with what is
Underneath.

i. a mother stomping through the house
her feet like a herd of elephants
smoke out of her ears, whips out of her mouth,
love out of her heart

ii. lights flash like a dream
cold surface of the stage lit up
with moving hip hop souls
music reverberates and then

stops

iii. shower flowing as a waterfall,
fists against wall, tears across face,
hair in mouth as the demon takes hold
and the surrender to sobbing begins

iv. the whole town is shut down,
stores closed, championship signs,
sweat in the eye, rainbow bruises
and frozen cheers are captured in time,
in the reflection of the trophies on the shelf

The lavender lilacs line the path that my bare feet tread,
The grass tickling my toes.
Bees buzz among the sunflowers that hang over my head,
They flit around the primrose.
The sun’s rays warm my skin,
And I breathe in the glorious spring air,
Not thinking about where I’ve been.
Just where I am.
At the end of the path is the old wooden swing,
Where she and I would swing for hours,
Each other’s hands we would cling,
While she told me all the different kinds of flowers.
She showed me the hollyhocks and bluebells,
Daisies and buttercups,
And all of the lesser known flowers I have
Long since forgotten.
She laughed when I couldn’t remember
The name of the tulip,
And her soft lips brushed my cheek.
I sit down on the swing and listen to it
Creak as I push off from the ground,
And the memories come rushing back
That are associated with that sound.
Every afternoon spent here,
Every flower name,
I wish I could remember every one,
In my mind they be engraved.
I close my eyes and picture her,
Her circular glasses, golden brown hair falling,
A pencil tucked behind her ear.
The mole on her left cheek.
Even though she’s long gone,
And our kids are all grown up,
She will never be forgotten.
She lives on in her garden.

Please do not judge my well being
By my physical pain.
My mind endures more daily
Than my body could endure
In thousands of lifetimes.

I feel like a lab rat, like I’m being watched
And observed and my every move monitored.
Maybe even more so I feel like a puppet,
With different people pulling me this way and that,
Trying to get me to side with them or with her or with him.
Why can’t I decide for myself?
Or even better, how about you work it out
On your own?
Do I need to constantly be that friend who you
Talk to each other about behind their backs?
Do you think I want to be that friend who
Constantly has to choose between pleasing
You or the other?
Some days I feel like taffy, and you two are little kids
Baking in the kitchen,
Bickering about something that won’t matter in ten minutes.
You don’t realize the damage you do to the taffy
As you stretch it beyond recognition.
If you break the taffy,
Do you get a prize?

She doesn't know why she feels this way.
Why she rides a roller coaster
Every time she looks at him.
Why she feels butterflies
Whenever he smiles.
She doesn't know why
She stays up at night,
Thinking about his smile, his laugh.
She doesn't know why
All her dreams include him.
She does know that
He doesn't feel the same way.
He doesn't talk to her,
Completely ignores her,
Doesn't even know she exists.
Can this be called love?
Can the feelings be real?
She knows she will have to move on,
She has to get over these feelings;
If they were even real in the first place.

Monday was the day of preparations
That were never made, the day of panicking,
Scrambling for a handhold when
The rocks are falling around your head.

Tuesday was the deep breath,
The calming mantra in your mind
That controls the panic from the previous day,
Steeling yourself for another week.

Wednesday was the day of realizations,
That all the things you planned to do
Are going swiftly going down the drain,
Evaporating into the recesses of your mind.

Thursday was the day of hanging on,
Struggling against a severe landslide
Of cares and worries, desperate to make it
To the top of the cliff.

Friday was the day of relief and triumph,
The relaxing of your brain muscles that
Signals the mountain peak, the end of the struggle,
The final step towards complete contentment.

The week was finally over, the war finally won,
And you realize that you must muster
Enough strength to do this again and again,
That the week is not for the weak.

Because of you,
I’ve been at my lowest of lows,
My darkest places,
My 2 am’s with flowing tears.
Because of you,
I’ve been at my highest of highs,
My brightest places,
My 2 pm’s dancing in the rain, mocking my tears.
Because of you,
I’ve been on the edge of a cliff,
So high that there would be no going back;
Luring me to a terrible, rocky place.
Because of you,
I’ve flown off the cliff,
Soaring on the wings of an eagle,
Never to come down to that rocky place.
Because of you,
I’ve experienced the most terrible
Emotions I’ve ever experienced,
The most harmful, toxic, poisonous times.
Because of you,
I’ve experienced the best
Emotions I’ve ever experienced,
The most beautiful, wonderful, complex.
I guess what I’m trying to say is
Thank you.
Thank you for showing me the
Highs and lows,
The desperation and the freedom,
The horror and the joy.
I am what I am
Because of you.

Everyone has a story, a reasoning behind
Their actions, their words, their thoughts.  
They have a prologue, which sets the scene,
That reveals important things if you bother to read it.  
Their first chapters are important,
Telling you the basic things about
Their personality and sense of self.  
Most people read these chapters,
But the further you get in someone else’s story,
More people lose interest, willing to keep the story,
To put the book on the shelf, but then
They forget about it. Or they just don’t care.  
The last chapters, which bring us to
The point that the person is in their life right now,
Are the ones that are the least read,
Except by those who are closest to them.  
If you truly care about someone, you will
Read their story from beginning to end,
Word for word, line for line.  
Yet there is danger in knowing a person’s story.  
Whilst reading someone’s story, you could
Fall in love, like a soft breeze on a warm day that
You hardly notice, but when you stop and
Think about it, was there all along,
And you should never have taken it for granted.  
When that happens, embark on a new adventure,
Creating a new story with them,
Starting with the prologue and not ending until you
Type the final letter.  
Because no one likes an unfinished story.

I’m strapped to a table,
An old, wooden table, where
I can feel the peeling wood digging
Into my back, causing me tangible pain.
The ropes wrap around my whole body,
Constricting my chest and cutting into my arms,
Making it almost impossible to move or even breathe.
I hear a long low buzz, almost imperceptible.
After a short pause, it starts again, louder.
I can’t find its source, as the space I’m in is
Pitch black, an enveloping, smothering darkness
That almost suffocates me in its desire to conceal.
The buzz comes again, louder still, and I feel a
Pounding in my head, as the sound waves travel through
My brain, disturbing it, sending wave after wave of pain.
A sort of sadness seeps through me with each wave, and
Soon I begin to see shapes and shadows, forming a
Realistic picture in my mind’s eye.
Every bad, sad, disgusting, angry, intolerable memory
That I possess is being relieved, with each buzz,
Another memory, another sadness, another heartbreak.
Before long, the buzz hacks into my future thoughts,
Showing me the worst possible outcomes to future situations.
Death.  Destruction.  Chaos.  Evil.  Heartbreak.  Discord.
I squirm on the table, trying in vain to escape,
The ropes wrapping tighter around me, as if they know,
As if they know I’m struggling, that with every memory wave
I’m losing more and more of myself, more and more
Of my good memories as the buzz increases in magnitude.
My mind is imploding, the torment is so great, I feel like
I won’t survive another wave.  That’s when the soft
Laugh comes at me from the shadows.
A cool breeze blows across my right ear, and a
Whisper of a chuckle reaches me, immobilizing me,
Making me stay still in pure and utter terror.
A cold, calculating shiver runs down my spine, and I realize
There is no escape from the confines of my mind.