No eyes watch this tongues bitter mornings.
My mother doesn't even know I drink coffee.
The trails know my footprints better then any memory of a boy who left behind me.
I have a drawer of broken headphones and
nails bitten down to the bone
my birthday present was a lock on the door.
How do you look at somebody-how do you blink your eyes?
Make me cry, I'd love to do it too. High and dry on a Friday, I've made nothing in awhile.
veins still pump with the devils pulse
I'm orange with ****** desire.
stuck in neutral
attached to your words, not you.
Everyday feels like a different year.
when I open my eyes to the lightly sun lit sky I'm faced with the same deceiving question,
WHO DO YOU WANNA BE TODAY?
Naturally, I try to get into the circulating acceleration of becoming someone new.
Monday I'll act older, tougher, meaner
Tuesday, I am sick of myself already
Wednesdays reality always brings kindness and an exciting extroverted perspective
Thursday I'm in love with the sun
Friday I'm isolated with the moon
the weekend sheds no time to be anything other then a sparrow.
Sunday, a change in action.
as if a extraterrestrial source was watching, seen me morph throughout the week
I faced the abnormal question that brought some sort of relief,
IS THIS YOU?
She did not have soft hands
Her hands were red.
Her hands were a boneyard.
Her hands were tired.
But through all the folds and shapes
Out of her paper mistakes
She made cranes.
She made them for the people she loved
And sometimes, the people she hated.
The cranes stood in her favourite places
Or they marked “I would literally rather be anywhere else right now”.
A blue one for Portland
A red for Sanfransisco
He always said he loved the colour yellow.
Time withered on and she withered with it
Soon, she was gone.
And as if the people had nothing left of her
Yellow, he thought.
He looked up through his sorrows
A yellow paper crane
Peered about on a windowsill
What once blended in the crowd
Now stood out like treasure
Some say the paper cranes flew that day
She would have liked that.
Leave your mark on the world
you have grown next to me my whole life
and I have been a part of you for 16 years
every road trip, every hockey game, every broken heart
you kept me company
at least it used to be that way
that summer you left I learned what it meant to say
you don't know what you have until it is gone
it wasn't till after you left that I knew you were my best friend
I still remember the first time you called that place of strangers and weird cafes, home
it was the first time I knew you weren't coming back
and the first time someone ever broke my heart without saying they did not love me anymore
now when I was past your old room I see nothing but a grave
and inside is berried memories that haunt my dreams
but the real ghost lie in when I wake up
and I realize that you aren't here anymore
you used too laugh with me till I felt better
speak as many words that I needed until I felt full again
now I can't even get a text back letting me know if you're alright
but you had to grow up
you had to go out and live your life
And the fact that now it’s hard me to get trough the day
Wouldn’t stop you
I wouldn’t let it
I will let you go instead
my brother has got to university. I am so proud of him. but its nights like this that would do anything to see him again.
love just isn't an option anymore
no matter how many people I put first I'm always put second.
call it bad timing or misfortune
but I am a crutch
a backup plan
the left over
never good enough
and I wish I could be,
for the people I love and for myself too.
and all these thoughts still bring me back to the same night
in my alley way, three summers ago when the first boy to ever make me a promise and break it told me I wasn't good enough
and said goodbye before I could catch my breath.
its the same winded feeling I feel to this day.
that constant hole in my chest
the lack of equally returned love
Bringing your name up in conversation feels like saying a ***** word in public.
It’s unnecessary but at the same time inevitable
It always will come back
Like a swing
No matter how hard a push
That name will fly back harder than it did before
This morning I woke up to a gentle breeze from outside
A song in my head
And a poem in my heart
I realized how gentle this world is
It’s soft hands and light touch
Most battles I face are inside my mind