we're the ones stuck somewhere between a passionate desire for life and a violent desire for death; trying to stop the hour glass from pouring its sand into the bottom half with a cigarette between our finger tips... we are scared and confused and contradictory...

and yea i guess
this is the human race
our compasses all
point to the same fate
but the beauty is seen
by those who dare to stray
we're all natural skeptics, anyway

don't kiss me in the morning
with coffee on your breath

don't rest your shower drenched
head on my thighs in the middle of the day

don't run my ***** hair through your fingers
at a quarter to two in the morning
and tell me that i'll be okay

don't light my cigarettes
             don't drive my car
                             don't use my cellphone
don't read my poetry
                        don't sing to me
                                             don't laugh with me
           don't tell me about your mother
or your father or your sister or your brother

              and don't you dare cry
                            don't cry under the stars
                                or on the stairwell
don't cry in my bed
            or on the roof of your favorite building
                         don't cry because you're happy
don't cry because you're scared
                   don't cry because you're sad or sick or confused
             please don't ever ******* cry

*because i can't fall in love again
it's such an ugly mess in the end

In the West I learned western hospitality
Free spirit, free drugs, more *****, more love
If you can remember your problem your doing it wrong
But if you forget your responsibilities you're not worth much
Party everyday pretend you don't understand the methods of your madness
Walk the streets half naked in half a foot of snow
Party, study, party, study
party, party, party
CHURCH
repent and once it strikes midnight start again.
In the North I learned Northern hospitality
It's called minding your business
It's called I have to get somewhere
If you have a question you also have a smart phone
It's not my job to tell you the norm.
You'll figure it out
I learned to walk fast, speak briskly and tell everyone to mind their own business
In the South I learned Southern hospitality
It's where people talk nice to your face and ***** behind your back
It's where the idea of ownership has stemmed way before the monogram
It's where if they only have two faces they are genuine and where they'll feed you fresh apple pie
filled with arsenic
Where you can trust your neighbor only as far as you can throw them
Where everyone's a little racist, a little homophobic, a little god-fearing
In the South I learned
Hospitality


-----------------------------------------­---------------
A/N
I was born and raised in Denver, Colorado.
Currently I reside in North Carolina.

I change my outfit at least four times before I hang out with you.

Every time you say "shut up" and I say "make me" I want you to kiss me.
The reverse also applies.

Most of my poems are about you.
So are most of my thoughts.
That's not creepy.
A little bit creepy.

I have liked you for as long as I've known you.
I will always like you.
No, I will always love you.
So, yes, I love you.

It's not your fault.
I'm a lot better, and it won't happen again.
Don't look past me because you think it will happen again.

I wish you were out and proud.
Maybe someday, but I wish it were sooner than later.

You give me that feeling of butterflies.
In my heart, not my stomach.
It's so much lovelier in the heart.

I might try to seem cool, but I get really nervous and awkward around you.
Which *****, because I want to be cool around you.
It's to impress you, but it fails because I'm too awkward.

I am really grateful to have met you.
Fairly certain we're destined to be, you and I.

Whenever we can't think of something to do, I want to suggest kissing.
Maybe I will soon.
Doubtful, but maybe.

You smell amazing.
A smell of like, I don't even know.
It's my favourite smell.

Your opinion is incredibly important to me.
And you know how little I care about people's opinions.

I want you to be happy.
Even if that isn't with me, then so be it.

I smile like an idiot when you're with me.
(Sorry for looking like an idiot when you're with me.)

You make me feel right.
I like that feeling.

I'm so proud of you,
she said to herself.

A mother and father
laughed in the distance,
embracing a young woman.

School books laid all around her,
but the only friendly face in sight
was her own.

The happy family entered the house,
raving about a show they saw that night.
We're so proud of you,* cooed the mother.
The father beamed with pride.

She crept down the stairs,
and met the happy family
in the kitchen.

The family stared back at her,
as if she did not belong.

Tests and papers with high marks lined
every cabinet, the table, and the refrigerator.
Theater medals and trophies had a glass showcase of their own.

She sighed heavily and went back to her room,
littered with thick books and journals.

I'm so proud of you,
she said to herself,
because no one else would.

I hate nearly everything about you.
That stupid dimple next to that stupidly gorgeous smile.
Your repulsively silky jet black hair that feels so horribly wonderful between my fingers.
From your obnoxiously beautiful deep complexion to your sickeningly dainty hands, I can't stand any of it.

I hate the way our bodies fit so perfectly together.
That feeling of eternal happiness and comfort when I see you is absolutely revolting.
The way you smell so terribly excellent makes me cringe.
Why do my hands always seem to search for yours, in some grotesque display of love?

But, even though I hate all of these annoyingly beautiful things about you,
The fact that I don't know what you think of me is what I hate the most.