I have learned,
people leave you
cold and broken
like my youth
and the only thing
that will ever stay
in my life
is that pen
and that pad of paper.

because my sanity
means more to me
than pleasing others
and my sanity
can only stay
if that pen and pad
are next to me

so take away my
so-called friends
lost inside
never empty pill bottles
and always empty
bottles of sorrow
and remind me why
this is what i cling to.

this is my far few in between
this is my light
at the end
of a never lit tunnel.
This is where misery
and it's company
join hands and dance
in the moonlit
darkness of the past.

The only thing
I've ever held close to me,
was anger and resentment
for those who i'm supposed to love
I find fatal flaw
where there isn't any
I look for wrong
in those who try to do me right
which is why I write.
because the only form
of therapy available to me
costs sixty bucks an hour
and that hour
holds more secrets
than my mind
will allow me to speak.
So I bleed ink
and hope that some sense
of relief
flows through my fingertips
like the weight upon my shoulders

and the only thing
worth fighting for
in my eyes
are the things
that are fighting with me.
Which is why people
come and go.
But blank pages
are always meant to be filled.

the moon shines because it reflects the light from your eyes.
the leaves & the wind dance to the rhythm of your heartbeat.
the moon follows your thoughts, and shines brighter at your every attempt to understand the glowing trail of a thousand fireflies.

i sketch your movements from above a tree, and confess to heaven. i said, ‘Lord, thank you for taking your time’.
the flowers of the night delineate your captivating rhythm.

rain clouds gather. raindrops entwine your thighs, and oh my, what a deep waterfall. your soul convokes the sparrows of the deep, convivial spirit.

free spirit. not even the law of gravity can stand you, angel. even though your wings are invisible, i can imagine you fly.

heavens confession: they took the time to mold you. create you.

and you glimmer in a graceful grassland, and the roses listen attentively to your voice.
a voice made up of beautiful dreams & broken promises.

heavens advice: never leave your happiness to someone else. otherwise you’ll be left broken.

only time can explain your he(art).
a pen & a paper are not enough to describe you.
they ran away from your words, they couldn’t understand but i do.
and i will with every ounce of my being, try to decode you.

i’ll stay light on this one. angel, you’re beautiful. you’re real.

heavens advice: stay you. stay true. you’re beautiful.

these words were not adequate to describe you.

you made a pretty good first impression.

p.s – this was heavens confession.

"there’s no easy way to say this, so i’ll just say it – i met someone. it was an accident, i wasn’t looking for it. it was a perfect storm, she said one thing, i said another. next thing i knew i wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation.”

you’ve tried everything, but you wont give up.
your feelings are crushed hard by love.
love, don’t give up.

you gave enough, but every time you get slapped by disappointments hand.
you’re stuck between calling him a stranger or another girl’s man.

i was told never to mess with broken hearts.

your young heart is tired of late night fights and holding onto tight ropes just to survive. your young heart doesn’t feel alive. its weighed down by words of regret. and heavy tears that run down from your bed to the cold floor.

an ocean of hate surrounds you. dark clouds of emotion hold you. just hold on to my heart.

you’ve tried everything, and you still don’t feel loved. he left you with scars, and tears on your pillow.

i’ve tried everything, just to get back your happiness. you’ve tried everything for love, i’ve tried everything for love.

what won’t we do for love?

your eyes say a lot. your personality shows a lot. your words explain everything.

& you’re tired of morning notes.
and you already know, that you have to leave it all behind. its time to go.

you couldn’t stomach the thought of him with another. but he is with another.
thoughts of a coward come up when you think that he wasn’t man enough
to tell you he wants to break up.

i’ve always loved you.
here’s a little note:

remember the first time we met.
soulmates we called each other.
you were my forever.
i hope one day love decides to get us back together.
i was your forever. you were my forever.
i hope love remembers our times together.

we were suckers for love. what won’t we do for love?

do for love. you’ve tried everything, but you don’t give up.

**credit goes to Tupac. this was Shakur inspired.

you gave me much attention, i acted like i didn't see it. i didn't mean it.
i was mean.
at first when you threw the hints, my eyes aint believe it.
now that you're in another man's arms, my heart is over here not believing.

i tried to eye contact you and tell you that i dreamt you, but for some reason our cable connection was cut off.
i didn't act like that for no reason, i was just waiting for the right ti(me).

and hear me out, im going to get to you someday.
and i'll keep waiting as i always have, i'll grafitti poems on my soul until i touch your hands.

listen, at 2am when i converse with the wind, i usually tell him to tell you that i love you 'cause my lips can't.

i was just waiting for the right ti(me). and i'll keep waiting.
'cause you can do the right thing with the right person. at the wrong time. then everything gets twisted.

somebody say timing.

saw this on tumblr, had to share

I learned in school that war is what happens

when nations disagree, but the textbooks never told me

that war is also what happens when parents disagree,

and when children throw insults harder than they hit baseballs

and when I cannot force myself out of bed in the morning

because there is a voice in my head that tells me

I might win the battle, but I will not win the —

War is what happens when teachers call on students

who don’t have the answers and they are left

fighting their father once he sees their report card.

War is what happens when it rains so hard

blades of grass bend over defeated.

War is what happens over telephone wires when a son

tells his mother he is gay and her white flag

of surrender is the phone going dead.

I have seen war burst into being the moment girls think

they’re too old to hold hands and again some years later when

they’re too young to do more than that, but charge forwards regardless

only to end up with ***** exploding inside them like shrapnel.

I have seen war across some people’s wrists.

I have seen it in bones trying to revolt from the flesh.

I have seen it in eyes like double whiskey shots

that are drunk off self-hatred.

I was taught that war was loud. It was supposed to be

bombs and a dictator’s speech and the sound of an entire race

being crossed off one by one, like the days of a calendar.

And I can agree that this is war, but war can also be quiet.

War can be as quiet as a miscarriage.

Or the therapy sessions afterwards, which is quieter even.

It can be as silent as a gas leak.

They asked me in sixth grade what war meant to me

and I told them about the Holocaust, I told them about the Jews.

I didn’t tell them about the boy across the road from me

whose father used his forearms as ashtrays and whose eyes

were the American flag: star-spangled.

I didn’t tell them about women that have their bodies claimed

like new worlds, or men who punch walls and wear their bruised knuckles

like honor badges for all the tears they haven’t cried because

they were raised to be soldiers

and soldiers do not cry.

I didn’t mention any of these things because I was taught

that war was big. It was something that happened between countries

and it happened with armies and guns and nuclear weapons.

But if they asked me now—if they asked me now

what war meant to me, I would tell them that war is what happens

inside people, and I would show them this poem as my evidence.

I cannot deny that I really love you.
This hurts me more than it will hurt you.
I fight with my notepad every night because of you.
I long for your touch each and every day.

I truly cannot deny that I really love you.
The fact that you don't know, hurts.

This will hurt me more than it will hurt you.