They say the ice will hold
so there I go,
forced to believe them by my act of trusting people,
stepping out on it,
and naturally it gaps open
and I, forced to carry on coolly
by my act of being imperturbable,
slide erectly into the water wearing my captain's helmet,
waving to the shore with a sad smile,
"Goodbye my darlings, goodbye dear one,"
as the ice meets again over my head with a click.

There’s nothing that I really want:
The stars tonight are rich and cold
Above my house that vaguely broods
Upon a path soon lost in dark.

My dinner plate is chipped all round
(It tells me that I’ve changed a lot);
My glass is cracked all down one side
(It shows there is a path for me).

My hands—I rest my head on them.
My eyes—I rest my mind on them.
There’s nothing that I really need
Before I set out on that path.

By Kevin Hart

If I were to die today, I know what my last words would be. Those words are a secret though, because they are only meant for one person. But, at the same time, I would want the entire world to hear these last words I have for that one person, because the weight behind these words feels too great to merely whisper softly in their ear. I would want to yell, shout the words out for the world to hear. But the thing is, even that wouldn't be enough to bring the words justice.

“He came up and kissed me on my forehead, and before he stepped away, I closed my eyes and tried hard to memorize this moment. I wanted to remember him exactly as he was right then, how his arms looked brown against his white shirt, the way his hair was cut a little too short in the front. Even the bruise, there because of me.

Then he was gone.

Just for that moment, the thought that I might never see him again… it felt worse than death. I wanted to run after him. Tell him anything, everything. Just don’t go. Please just never go. Please just always be near me, so I can at least see you.

Because it felt final. I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time. That no matter what, we would be connected—by our history, by this house. But this time, this last time, it felt final. Like I would never see him again, or that when I did, it would be different, there would be a mountain between us.

I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was to feel so much grief.

Bye bye, Birdie.”

-Jenny Han

"Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Why do humans cry? Why, when we experience intense emotions, do our bodies decide to expel large quantities of liquid from our eyes? We are not even granted the small favor of it looking all beautifully tragic like it does in movies, no; it is noisy, it is messy, the tears are often accompanied by snot, and your eyes become awfully puffy and red. And sometimes you can't seem to make yourself stop. And sometimes there is nothing you can do about that. And then there are other times. Times when you expel this freaking ridiculous amount of liquid from your eyes when experiencing some form happiness. Those times are different. Those times aren't so bad, I suppose. But, honestly, those times are often just as messy and just as confusing, I must say.

Hollow breath
Shallow heart
Shaking bones
I know my time has come
Take me now
In your arms so comforting
For after everyone has left me
You are always the one still waiting

I sit quietly and watch as they all pass by
Strange strangers of every shape and size
Wondering what and who and how they are
Wondering how they've all come this far
There's the short man with shoes too small
The old woman, under her arm an old doll
The young man who always wears pink
The woman whose fingers are covered in ink
The man whose face is sprinkled with pimples
The little girl, on her left cheek one dimple
The gray haired woman singing under her breath
The man with the face anxiously waiting for death
The young woman hiding behind her dark hair
The albino man sitting while enjoying a pear
The woman standing rigid, who silently cries
The tall man standing near, eating her with his eyes
The lady wearing too much makeup, always bored
The father with his son whom he simply ignores
The crumpled man begging for food with his words
The blind woman who instead feeds the birds
The little boy with the white balloon in hand
The tallest trumpet player from a marching band
The bald man with the tattoo depicting a shipwreck
The woman in the suit with the scar on her neck
The two lovers sharing their first and last kiss
The man with the rings decorating his fists
The smiling woman whose cuts are apparent
The quiet young man whose arms are all bent
The old man with the bag full of piano keys
The blind old man with the parrot who sees
The young man with his black hat pulled down
The gentleman unabashedly dressed like a clown
The man with the blood shot eyes, scruffy head
The girl with the one streak of blonde hair dyed red
The small woman with the paper bag holding beer
And the lost looking man wondering why he is here
All of these men and woman and more I observe
Always coming and going, their stories unheard
For they are simply strangers for me to behold
Disconnected from me, yet still part of a whole
For among them I have my own story and role
But if only I could heard their own stories told
For then maybe I could understand my place
In a world full of strangers with each their own strange face

hey well you've come this far
to a place beyond your reason
why not stay a while and see
what it's like to live unknown
and unbelieved and forgotten
stay with us a while, or a little
come with us to special places
where together we can explore
and can pick through memories
and emotions and unused ideas
you can stay, have tea with us
wonder and wander with us too
to far off places and places close
places within us we'd never dared
to travel to before alone until now

She felt that she was most likely
going crazy
for a certain side of her
desperately wanted
to be part of it
yet another part
simply wanted nothing
to do with it at all
She felt like it was all
or nothing
and that quietly terrified her
into indecisiveness.

She picked at her nails
as she lay on the bed
listening to the sound
of the shower running
from the white bathroom
the smell of hotel soap
drifted from the door
and steam wafted up
from underneath it
she shifted her weight
the mattress creaking
the crooked lampshade
sending glares of light
across the dimly lit room
casting her into shadow
while she sighed a deep sigh
and folded the sign reading
"Do Not Disturb" in half and
tossed it sharply at the TV
which was muted and fuzzy
because they hadn't bothered
to find the hidden remote
before he left for his shower
that would never be finished
because he had already left
choosing to make his exit
through the small window
next to the dripping sink
of the locked white bathroom

she licked the blood from her fingertips
that the thorns of the rose had pricked
blossoming and running on her skin
to be taken by her gentle tongue
it was deep and red and spellbinding
and tasted of bitter disappointment
of ideas bordering on emotions
and urges hidden away deeply
it crept down her skin smoothly
quietly revealing what its taste held
but only to those who dare to listen
and the rose held in her other hand
wilted softly and fell to the ground
for it could hear every single story
idea and emotion that the red held
and it was far too much to know
for one simple black rose to handle

Rip my heart out, throw it to the ground
Swear to never let it make another sound
Forever forget the way things used to be
During that season when you loved me
I left it to lay there, quivering and cold
Never allowing to let another to hold
And walked away with a hole in my chest
Knowing it would be safe for once at rest

Spread, soar, open up your mind
Let it flow with the rhythm
Have it let go of all cynicism
Resist getting blinded by mysticism
For we're only here for a time
So don't give into criticism
Radiate good vibes like a light prism
And always listen for life's lyricism
For though we are here for a time
We never know how long that time will be

Crisscross scars decorate your face
Telling of long gone difficult times
That you'd rather not speak of
For though the jagged scars
Have long healed over and scabbed
The memories are still as fresh
As when they were first delt

Softly glowing reflections
Of things here once past
Thoughts gathered in collections
But now even they don't last
Bound together like powder
Til they are nothing but dust
Falling apart more each hour
Like what I once called trust

Words left unsaid
Feelings unexpressed
Held back for a time
Not right for the moment
Until they mean nothing
Yet they still linger on
In the back of my mind
Still wanting to be said
But they are now useless
...never mind, just forget

Sharp and stabbing come the emotions in waves
Each one crashing over the next, intermingling
Each one desperately trying to overpower the next
Until they are all twisted up and conjoined together
Wrestling and shoving and surging and racing
Through my mind and my heart until I cannot see
Until I cannot breath or hear and know or guess
And all I feel are the hot tears burning down my face

Rays of light filter through the window
Creating ribbons of dust motes in the air
Slowly drifting and gently flowing
The sunlight spills onto the old carpet
Where I lay, sprawled in the warmth
My hair spread as if floating in water
My armed out stretched at my sides

Thinking

Aching, waiting, listening for a sign
That all these feelings I try to hide
Actually have a coherent meaning
That they are not all just nonsense
Something I should just push aside
Something I should simply dismiss
Why do they come and go so much
Like guests who merely visit and leave
Never knowing when they'll return
When they'll return to confuse me
Make me second guess my choices
Make me feel out of control and lost
Make me wonder who I really am
Make me wish I knew what to do
These feelings are sometimes dormant
But they return at vulnerable times
Like late in the middle of the night
When I wake up in the darkness
Not knowing exactly what is real
Not knowing exactly what is fake
They come to me then when I'm weak
Take hold of me and will not let go
Make me feel completely lost
And completely confined in the dark
Until I'm able to drift into a quiet sleep
Away from the worries and wonders

Every good and bad action echos on
Never fully fading and always there
Continually influencing and effecting
An endlessly reverberating whisper

As I see the snow is melting,
As I hear the Robin sing,
As I touch the dry, warm grass,
As I feel the gentle breeze,
I know Spring is coming....

As I climb the green, budding tree,
As I feel the cool, soft rain
As I smell the fresh, damp earth,
As I taste the sweet fiddle heads,
I know Spring is coming....

This poem is not of the merry kind,
His actions speak of a dark, twisted mind.
I do not know what time of day,
Should he decide to stalk his prey,
To do something of unspeakable crime,
He must be stopped, but is there time?
Understand of it, this is all I know:
He ran away; where did he go?
Supposed to go to mansion of Cranberford’s,
Do something horrid with matches and boards?
And to this evil plan that he’s devised,
You must stop him before it’s realized!

Don’t stray away, as we’re falling fast now,
Down to the situation we just escaped,
I can’t see you, you can’t see me,
We are falling faster as the darkness descends,
Into the oblivion of ignorance,
Falling with nothing to steady us,
Nothing but each other,
Hold on to my hand tight,
Do not, do not let go,
For if we let go there is nothing left,
Nothing but darkness all around.

This man was a lonely man
Never left the world that was his
This world was small yet spacious
For he only needed enough room for himself
And it only needed enough room for him
This man often visited our world
Yet he never left his own
Wandered in and out like a lost child
Called everywhere and nowhere his home
He was tall and plain and smelled of pine
His hat worn from where he held it in his hand
He never spoke, never said a word
He walked throughout our world, unseen
But always present in his, yet never fully there
The only thing that spoke were his eyes
And they themselves told all there was to tell

Silence and darkness comfort me
The soft glow of white snow rising through my window
The black silhouettes of the trees against the dark gray skies
The silence like a continuously whispered promise
The steady stillness feeling omnipresent and everlasting
And as the darkness creeps further and further into me
I calm more and more, the quiet enveloping all
The night is a comfort and the quiet is reassurance
That all is well even when it is to be broken by the rising of the sun

When I sit at my desk and try to write down
All of these feelings my pen does not make a sound
For the feelings inside are trapped and confined
Boiling up without meaning, biding their time
Until I cannot even form them into words
Lost in my head, they continually swirl
Looking for a way of expression and meaning
Even I cannot describe this feeling
I need to let them out, have them understood
By someone, anyone, if only I could