You know
when something bad happens
you immediately think of
that one person
that you wish you could
run to
and tell them all about it?

Or if something
Amazing happens
and you just
want to tell
that same person
what just made your life
so much better?

*You were that person for me.

I need some happy poetry
I'm tired of sadness
I'm tired of not seeing the sun
And the bright side of things

I need some happy songs
I've been lost for too long
I need to find myself now
No time to get stuck in the past

I'm more than what
Never let me smile
I'm tired of this charade
I'm tired of being cold

I want to get lost gazing
At the possibilities in the stars
Not at their fateful destruction
Not at their fall to nothing

I needed some happiness
For some time now
Because I broke the chain
That dragged me down

i can be alone;
i have been alone
for quite some time;
it’s fine, i will be
alone, but
don’t worry.
you don’t have to
pretend,
you don’t have to
stay up,
you don’t have to
console me
when i want to cry—
but thank you anyway.

At the stroke of midnight she cries.
Her cries are not heard ,
Her cries are loudly silent,
The pain creeps into her soul burning her from within,
She breaks slowly inside
She dies slowly inside
She feels alone tonight.
She reaches for death's hands in hope to find salvation ,
I watch her
I scream for her to stop
My scream is loudly silent,
She cuts the last bit of hope away.
I stop her but to little to late I fail to save the hope she sacrificed to find relief in a world of torture.

the ones who chase the sunset
the ones who dream of dreaming on abandoned mattresses
the ones who never sleep
the ones who find homes in the passenger seat
the ones with endless wanderlust and bare feet
the ones who travel with journals on their sleeves
the ones with open minds and prying hands
the ones who finally learned how to speak
the ones with golden tongues and opalescent teeth
the ones with glowing green lights in their eyes
the ones with ticklish knees and bruised thighs
the ones with unheard symphonies in their eardrums
the ones who grow with the trees and bloom like chrysanthemums
the ones with ideas too big for the small town scene
the ones who perform silent spoken word for their television screens
the ones bubbling with spontaneity and sentimentality
the ones with broken dreamcatchers, lightbulbs, and families
the ones who are captivated by constellations and insanity
the ones who make snow angels on mountain peaks
the ones with freckles, curly hair, and rosy cheeks
and the one with olive skin and emerald split ends
the ones with tracing thumbs and laureled limbs
the ones who have taken each others flaws in
wrapped them in silk and blocked out the bitter wind
the ones who weave orbs with moth wings
the ones who still buzz with bee stings
the ones with the power and voodoo
the ones who don't think like you do
the earth, the fire, the water, the air
the ones who can't help but to stop and stare
the misfit poets;
the ones who dare to care.