And for one second as I sat in the back of the car with my eyes closed
feeling the summer breeze against my face
everything was perfect, I didn't care
about a thing. I felt as if I were back when I was little
sitting in the car with just me, my dad,
and my brother, listening to Madonna singing about how DJ's should turn the record
on and what it feels like for a girl as the greenery passed
me by on the road trip to Kentucky.
I felt safe,
but this feeling wouldn't last long.
It would go away as my brother parked the car and
as we all walked into the house.
We would all go do our different things,
in different rooms and
forget about what we just did, we would forget
about each other,
and sooner or later a fight would start and end with no one winning.
As I lay in bed I hold onto that moment that the world was perfect,
and I didn't feel so alone.

It's not like I would of taken you back
but it's sad that there was no fight in you to even try
If out of everything, that is what hurts the worst.
It's every girls dream to have the guy who hurt her,
and maybe my views are a little ****** up and twisted because I've
watched too many sappy love stories at night, to do something courageous
for her.
Not just flowers or an I'm sorry but a full on play music outside my window on a lawn mower
or something.
Something more than doing nothing.

I stopped looking for you in widows, on walls and pages.
My heart no longer feels the twinge of sickness it once made when I thought I saw you.
I don't obsessively think your name like when we were together, gasping whispers into the darkening night.
It isn't fair that an image of you is burned in my brain-  think of how
you ran your fingers down my spine, how you are holding hers, just
like you held mine.
I don't go to the spots we once went, I'm afraid of the thought "what if?"
I stopped hearing your voice, no longer saying pitcher for picture.... your laugh was once contagious.
But no one deserves this, I am too strong to let you cheat me of a love that I want to give.

I don't look for your face anymore- and to tell the truth, I'm not sure of how I would act if I saw you.

But you deserve this, Nicole.
This shaken child that you now behold.
All your actions and desires brought you to this point
and the rest of your life you and your born out of sin child
will pay the price.

But, thank you for making this happen, for stealing everything less than a man away
from me, I was blinded- holding him high on a pedestal, because he was someone I though to be my love and best friend.

No more than cowards, loving each other forever. Merely 11 months in you let this everything less than a man shake your child. But remember, everything leads up to the moments we are now living and this is your life.

I now know that the person who breaks up the relationship has it the worst. When there is no real cause, no true animosity or reason, except that you feel like you can't believe that you've gotten this far, but how can this keep going when you have no ******* idea who the two of you are? No one ever tells you that you are left with all of pieces of the broken relationship. That there is no ammunition to get over a person, except the self loathing you feel towards yourself. You spiral down from feeling like it was the right choice, to
wondering
                why
                      you
                          even
broke up with them in the first place. And the jealousy, oh god the jealousy, it spills into your blood stream every time you thirstily grab at a blush, no make that light green, or even deep red colored bottle- does it even matter- you've tasted it every. day. of. the. week.

These pieces, they are scattered in places and in forms you would never expect them to be. You reach and try to grasp at the grey hazy spiraling memories with your hands, but they are always ever
so slightly out of
reach.  

You look at the mirror, looking at an unrecognizable face, pity rotting upon it, dragging you down like a ship drowned by the relentless wrench of the sea. Can you even blame anyone but yourself? You don't deserve to heal.

My death was at an odd time in my life. I never
got to fully experience what it was like to be an adult.
My life was filled with waiting, waiting to be
finally old enough to do the things I wanted to
do. I waited to go out with my friends after dark like
you see in the movies. In them you always see teenagers going
on road trips and I waited thinking to myself 'that
will be the day I have fun.'  But even when I did get
older, I never did those things.
I filled my life with fantasy- reading books that projected
the world that I wanted to experience. I sought out magic
in people and the things I did. My magic was painting.
The art room was the place I felt special and like I had
reason to be.
But even so, I waited with my artistic skills. I waited
for them to get better, but they never did.
I always loved helping people. I would always be nice
and I looked for the best in them hoping and wanting
to be liked by everyone- and what teenage girl doesn't
want to be? I waited for the invites to parties to go
get drunk at, I waited to get a high school sweetheart, and
I waited for the time when I would be prom queen.
These are the things that I thought where what you
did in school and I yearned for these experience.
They never came.
I thought that those things would make me happy,
that if I waited long enough they would just naturally accrue.
But I waited for the wrong things. I never realized that
sometimes you have to dive into what you love like
painting and that you have to look around and appreciate
the people and moments that are now.

I was born to be a child that planted seeds of
happiness in whoever I met, so my parents have told me.
I don't think I have ever had the leading role in
this play. I've never been that girl who everyone fawns
over with the spot light shining on her all the time.
I was meant to help others like the backstage hands.
My biggest accomplishment was teaching my mom
how to laugh at herself. She has always been that
busy workaholic type.
At this point in my life, it is only Act III Scene II and there
hasn't been a visible plot yet. My soul is chameleon, and
it is indecisive as to what color it should be. My ideas
of what I want to give to this world change all the
time. But soon if I don't pick, I will be thrown into
a ****** without any heading. My most secret dream
is to become a painter, but nobody has ever understood
that part of me. When I paint, I lose all consciousness of
the outside world and there is no incentive to paint
besides the love of  looking at a finished piece. Maybe
one day I'll be a starving artist who gets a break and then
I will get my spotlight on stage.

and as you lay on my bed I look at you and want to throw away all of the wishes I spent on shooting stars and change that rattled in my pockets begging to be thrown in a well
just for you

Poetry should go for a walk at night
Through the park
lay in the due sprinkled grass
and gaze up at the sky lit by stars and a Hunter's Moon
With you

Poetry should put on a crimson red dress
With blackened leather boots
And sing for all of the ladies and gentlemen
Who drove for miles just too hear her voice

Poetry should put on her blue and white polka dotted galoshes
Dance in the rain and jump in puddles with the kids
and let the rain drizzle upon her head
With not a care if she gets wet

Poetry should sit down and curl up by the fire
sip some hot chamomile tea
And read a captivating book that Richard Tyler would befriend
Until she drifts into sleep

Poetry should paint you a picture of love
One that starts with a smile, blue sky's, the brine flavored ocean
And ends with your lips running across my chest
while my hands caress the nape of your neck
and yours entwine with the tangles of my hair

Poetry should make the colors of the leaves turn
as clouds creep into the sky leaving a blanket of crystals on the ground
Poetry should thaw out your forgotten memories
that froze like the once trickling creek
so you can know that every second is worth while

I don't know you- but if I could I would hold  onto every moment like how you hold onto your pencil when you write.
There is something  in your words that create an ever repeating echo in my heart... oh I wish I knew you, I wish I knew.
You don't know me, but maybe you've read words that I've typed and they have washed upon your soul, on your mind.

I feel like I've glimpsed into some secrete hollow of your life.
As if stumbling onto your poem was meant to occur.. but I'll stay on the edge of my seat and only know you though my reads.

That's all that can happen- that's all that can be- for a poets mind, heart,
and soul are dark
                         and deep.

"Fill me up, steam me up, hear me shout, tip me over and poor me out. Poor me out on the concrete, next to your feet. Do I have to cry? How can you hear me? Oh, Just to be with you"



I want to scream at the top of my lungs,
Oh, please notice me.
Don't call me man or bro....
It breaks my heart everytime.
I look at you and think of the times we have
spent together, few, but amazing.
And after them, how can you see me just as a friend?
How can you pull me close and dig your face into my neck
and not think I don't want more? You fell asleep in my arms as
we watching the lightning. How many hits can I take?
I feel bliss around you and all I want to do is kiss you,
but I fear if I tried you would deny me and say that you don't share the same
love for me as I do you.


"You look at me holding on to a dream that filled me long ago, but I'm still wating. I'm still holding on"

Have fun in Cali, with who knows who.
I wanted you to be here today-
I wanted you to be here for thanksgiving
I wanted you to be here for my 18th birthday

but really, I wanted you to be here everyday,                                                        ­                                      dad.





A year has past from when I wrote this... I maybe saw you three times in between then.....
and now.

I could guess you had at least 15 girlfriends in that time. You said you would drive up from
Boise to see me on my birthday, but it passes and it seems
that Moscow
is far from Kentucky.




Till next year.... I guess.

You know though,
it still hurts
and it's still ****** up
and life goes on
and I mean I loved you, god I loved you.
But time has gone by, **** it's been going by so fast.
Two winters ago I would have never even
questioned us, even if it was me from the future
I still would have ignored myself.
Just a fool that was played and how can
other people go through this all the time?
And I guess you got your wish. A child at the young age of 20,
something that a once 17 year old girl should not have to give.
I don't mean to sound like a girl that
had her heart broken, because really
love is something that I never wanted to dabble in
and I do not want to be weak, sad, and pathetic.
This doesn't seem like poetry to me and it's because
my inspiration has been torn out. But here is a plot twist: I think
I hate nicole more.

The sky lit up with a fiery blaze,
The sun fell beneath the earth, giving the skyline a tangerine colored haze.
All I could see now were shapes.
They looked blotched and disfigured, the shadows showed.
I looked in the mirror to see the same figure.
Disgusted I was, though I could not seem to look away.
I wanted to hide myself, throw a rock at the mirror.
Your beautiful red flower, its green stem that glowed.
Though it died, I know.
Yet still I wonder.
If the feeling is there.
My body to the red flower will never compare.

You ever think of death?
Some fear the thought of it, afraid
because what they have done in this life.... will haunt them
in the next.

But others they can't wait to take the plunge,
today a boy killed himself.
I mean he took not his life, but the life that his parents put into him
      How? Why?      I don't know. Can anyone answer my questions? Can anyone hear the thoughts that scream in my head of what really matters... It seems to me nothing does.
Was it all pre-planed by a god the-- God?

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know(Do I want to know?).............. Just the other day a boy was left out in the cold and died, he somehow got across town, away from his fraternity, his "brothers." Not just a few blocks away from my house.

And with that, a girl, who I knew, died from sickness and overworking herself.... When she knew she was sick...... did she do this to herself?

Was it known that all these people would die at these specific times, down to a point blank of the second,  because every movement, every thought, and choice they ever made led up to that moment of their life.

Had this god made up their life, and known?


It is weird to think that these peoples bodies are still here, yet lifeless.... how can a body be limp? How does a life leave? What causes it? What causes death, death of a body-of a soul leaving from a beating heart and thinking mind... Personalities gone.


I don't know, and it hurts some part of me that I can't explain.

I ask you to think of not being alive, of there to be nothing after death---- try. Try picturing a world without your thought. Going further than picturing a black nothingness....

What has happened to the souls from before us?
Thousands of years ago, do they haunt this earth or did their "God"
lead them to salvation or pass their soul onto the next through reincarnation?

Will our cities be ruins, like the Mayans, another lost civilization.

Deleting all evidence of your claim
                                          * atad*
                                          etep
               ­          * tnarraw
                        *tuarrem         ­                                Reflecting................
Like we learned in history class, but our history is-what history?
                      exactly.
And I never knew that people could be so life changing cruel.

It's like everyone is moving forward,
but
     I
     am
          staying
                      in
                         the
                              same
                          ­            place.
Their minds sweep with their plans with maybe going off to some school or how they know what they are going to do forever.

I'm split, feet sprawled onto two cliffs as they pull away
slowly ticking                            off four months
this side?                                     or this side?                             Pick a side, pick a side... what side???
                   w
                      h
                        * a
      ­                     * t
                                       i
                                      f
                   ­             I
                                      f
      ­                                 a
                                       l
                                      l
                   ­           r
                                i
              ­                   g
                                   h
                                    t
                     ­                         down
                               ­              t
                                            h
             ­                             e
                          m
  ­                           i
                               d
                                 d
                                     l
                                     e
                                      ?

Help help help........... but everyone tells me I have enough time.                 You will figure it out, they say.



"It'll be interesting to see what you go into... very interesting"        
                                                                ­         You would do great here.... great things indeed.

I feel like harry potter when he's getting sorted, but the difference is between me and him is that no hat is picking what I do...
                                   No hat picking a path for me to go down..
                                                        ­                                                down...
       ­                                                                 ­                                          down....
I have no escape from the future, and I'm going in blind.
                                                      ­                                               We will see how long this foundation can hold

          m
              
                    e.
         ­               .
                           .
                       .
                    .
                  .
                .
   ­           .
            .
             .
               .

I think she saw it when she looked in your eyes.
The look of seduction, lust, baby she wasn't
surprised.
*** is what you wanted, the desire was evil.
It rained in her brain like
the night you and her became.
On of two, you can't go back.
Two of two, you don't want to
go back. It's like a drug- you
can't let her go. Her idea
of what is next decides if
she really wants you or if
you are just for show.
Show it is, how used can you be?
*** is what she wants. Remember when it was your desire? When you
"Loved" her. Now look at what
she has done. Tell me she
was worth it.
You wanted ***, you got
it now. I'll hold my applause
as you take a bow.
You're dead to her but she loves you right?

You

Lied

Cheated

Manipulated

Hated

Hurt

Disgusted

Disowned­

Lost

Envied

Stole

Love

Trashed

And

Bashed

You

Felt

For­

And

Fell

For

Her

Heart

Shattered

Confusion

Emotions

Run­ning

Wild

Killing

Faith

In

Others

Believing

No

Ones

Trut­h

Blood

Slides

In

Your

Mind

Tattoos

Stain

Your

Lips

Qui­ver

When

Her

Beautiful

Body

Walked

Out

Of

Sight

Out

Of
­
Mind

Late

Night

Walking

In

And

Out

Of

Mazes

And

Games
­
She

Played

Like

Days

Before

Your

Death

I

Confessed

My

­True

Love

For

You.