Their eyes tell stories that no words could do justice.

Just pick up any child on the side of the road
and you can read a novel in one glance.

So enthralled are you by the tales of loss and hopelessness
that you're surprised to see smiles on their faces,
leaving you to wonder
                           how people with so little
                                    can have so much joy.

It smells like snow.
The air whips crisply through
her lungs as she inhales.

It smells like new parchment.
The excitement of a new book
just waiting to be read.

It smells like Christmas.
Brings her back to when
even Santa Claus was real.

It smells like horses.
They always make her
feel completely free.

It smells like nostalgia,
      brings the memories back.

It smells like regret,
      pain follows each breathe.

It smells like fear,
      that she had but one chance.

It smells like hope.*
That fickle friend
    promises to catch her,
        but still lets her fall.

And now
It smells like you.
So full of the past
that I wish my lungs
                               would
                                      stop.

If he only knew
how many poems
he has inspired.

one, two, three--
close your eyes
and you will see.

four, five, six--
after we end
the clock still ticks.

I didn't cry or anything.
I hadn't talked to him in years.
But I couldn't shake the question:
Could I have prevented it?

I had thought to contact him,
show him someone cared.
He had always been insecure,
always had a spot in my heart.

But I brushed the thought aside
like a stray hair across my face.
And yet, I still can't help thinking
that *I could have changed things.

Either you don't know me,
or I'm no longer myself.

"Mom, I think in poetry."

Now she thinks I'm insane.

I forgot his birthday was on Saturday...

It feels great.

I don't believe in soul mates.

Because
   you
      were
         mine,

but
now
you're
                gone.

I've got to stop staying up writing...

Where's the caffeine?

Wishful thinking
doesn’t get you far.

Wishful thinking
digs you into a hole,
straight down
into the ground.

Wishful thinking
is one of the only things
that can completely
hinder a person’s ability

to keep on down
the path of moving on.

Here's to last night
and all the nights to come,
when we stay up
laughing through the fear.

The fear of final exams,
of essays and projects
hovering above us
like a cloud ready to pour.

Here's to making memories
at a table in the library,
caffeine in our veins,
all to get those grades.

But we all know what
really happens those nights,
when our studying could
be done in an hour.

But we mix it all up
with time wasting activities,
our giddy faces
magnified in each other's eyes.

Here's to the nights
when we don't really study,
because that's what we'll remember
when it's all said and done.

Mira mis manos.
Han sido vacias
por todos los días
desde que te saliste.

Da una vuelta,
mira mi cara.
Sigue los recuerdos,
y regresa a mi.

Tus secretos
se esconden
entre las arrugas
de mi corazón.

Y te prometo
si no regresas
tan pronto como
en mis sueños...

los dejaré salir.

No event becomes monumental until it’s too late to change.

I remember the first time I saw you.

Is that creepy?
Probably.
Well I do.

And sometimes, when I get the chance,
I walk back to that place,
turn towards the sunset…
and I see you again.

You tug
            tug
                tug

on my heartstrings again.


They say,

"Do what you must,
just don't let him in."

Remnants of pain
remembered hide
behind their eyes.
Most people see
walls and boxes,
but I see oceans
and meadows
and rolling hills.

People leave,
          you got it?
That's just
          what they do.

I’m on the brink of freedom.
I’m sprinting for the edge.
But right before I feel the fall,
you pull me back again.

Baby, I can’t help it.
You make me wanna smile.
You make me wanna crawl into
your world a little while.

But all that’s just a memory,
some papers in my drawer,
some playlists and some post it notes
all scattered on the floor.

Give me your secrets,
give me your lies.
I'll hide them away
in the back of my mind.

I'll tell you I love you,
you'll tell me the same.
You think it is perfect,
I don't remember your name.

'Cause it all melds together
in one big metal ***,
full of stories and memories,
now just ashes, the lot.

Hear that
knocking
on the door?

It could
be someone
made for you.

Or it could just be me,

braving the thrill of
your words once more.

My friends are studying
to hold peoples’ lives in their hands,
to run entire companies,
to report the current happenings.

But I’m more scared than they,
for already I’m hanging by a thread.
And all I’ve got on my side...
                                                     are words.

It doesn't always happen when you'd expect it,
in the quiet hours when no one else is home.

It comes when I'm in the presence of my dearest friends, however new,
and suddenly, I look around me and see no one but strangers.

To my right I see the group I am a part of, but I don't fit in...
to my left the ones with whom I fit, but do not belong.

To the first boy I ever loved:
I don't see your face anymore.

To the only boy I ever loved:
I no longer hear your voice.

So finally we meet no longer,
because finally I'm too far gone.

Already today
I’ve forgotten your name,
although it’s written
all over my body.

On my hands that you held
that November night,
on my forehead you kissed
when we said goodbye.

In my eyes that you loved,
on my shoulders you hugged,
on my back you admired
in the hot summer sun.

If I want to remember
your name these days,
I just look at my body,
for there you will stay.

But I don’t want to remember,
I want to forget
I want to live life
and remove you from it.

I want to close my eyes
and not see you
behind my lids
when I feel the bruise.

So I’ll stare straight ahead,
I’ll follow the sun.
For if I look down at my body,
I’ll come undone.

I think I’ve lost my footing,
I think I’m falling down,
I think I’m gonna topple
face first on the ground.

You’re trying to trip me,
to push me on the floor.
Is this all we have in store for us?
Or is there something more?

I should have kissed you
inside the hollowed tree;
A moment planned precisely,
obvious enough for discovery.

I should have kissed you
at the top of the hill;
Your skin illimuninated
by the sun setting behind you.

I should have kissed you
on that floral couch;
When the silence penetrated
all but my screaming thoughts.

I should have kissed you
beneath the water;
But I just wondered
why you were even there.

I should have kissed you
but I didn’t.
You said you’d hold me
but you left me in the dust.

You said you’d hold me
but you didn’t.
You ran and ran
but you can’t hide.