i was scared for a while
when i thought i lost my words,
the once endless monologue slowing to a trickle
until
...nothing.
no poetry, no words,
no stanzas pushing at my lips and itching my fingers
to be released.
i thought, "if i've lost my poetry, what am i?"

i guess i have a thing for blonde hair, blue eyes
something about the way i fall into the ocean
of those two heartbreakers,
the way they contrast his light hair.
but i never guessed that i could fall in and drown,
my lungs screaming for air,
while i tell them to please shush so i can hear him speak.
sacrificing myself for a boy who doesn't even want me.

as the fighting ensues
i seek refuge
in the comfort of the clicking of my keyboard.

as my life unravels
i wish to travel--
honestly, anywhere but here.

i'm grateful that i'm able to write again,
i had missed the gliding of the pen,
writing out everything i forget to feel.

but when the clock strikes twelve
i could no longer delve
into the beautiful world that is my imagination.

i've written you in and out of all my poems,
every single part of you expressed in each of my delicately placed words.
but it's not enough.
it's never enough.
i have an insatiable hunger to let the world know how i feel,
not just about you,
but i guess, sort of, about everything.
i've learned that it's easier to just write about your eyes.

somehow;
all this time later, i'm still dreaming about you
i'm still writing about you,
still pining after you.

and when i feel lonely i don't know what to do,
so i think about you,
i still think about you.

and while you don't even know...
but maybe you do?
i think that you do,
you know i care about you.

but what you may not know,
well if you read this you do.
i'll never be over you;
i'm still in love with you.

and i guess i should just say that
even though we are through,
it's always been you;
it'll always be you.

my mind burns
as your name is branded on the delicate tissue
once,
twice,
my tongue is sour
with the absence
of you.

don’t let them tell you your eyes are ordinary.
darling,
they are anything but.
your eyes are honey as it blends with liquid copper,
hardening when you feel the pain of the world
but melting when you look at him.
they are the smell of the earth right before a thunderstorm,
hard packed soil and dusty fingerprints.
they are mahogany oak
as the lightning cracks a tree in half
and the rings are exposed for the world to see.
those orbs are the sleek finish on a violin,
its chords slicing through empty air with notes brimming with emotion,
emotions that’s reflected in your eyes.
it’s all reflected in your eyes
so don’t you dare let them tell you
your eyes are ordinary.
they are anything but.