They say love is a flame,
But how can I agree?
For a flame consumes,
Until only ash remains.
But love gives unendingly,
Wouldn't it be better to say,
Love is water,
Life giving,
Guiding you home,
Rocking you to sleep.
Water comforts
Heals,
Cleanses,
But a flame,
It eventually dies out.
So let this love consume me,
Not as a flame would,
Selfishly taking for myself,
But comforting and lively as the waves.

I'm a hurtful person,
abusing those I love,
buried deep under hurt,
sits a broken heart,
the pain of the past,
roaring it's anger,
moves my arm to hit,
my sister's eyes enlarge,
brimmed full with fear,
all the hurt i felt,
now energy pointed toward her face,
you don't belong,
ugly girl,
you'll never be enough,
you weren't wanted,
an accident,
the monster they created.
Pain arouses from the broken heart

Snow falls gently beyond these windows,
Gleaming in the chilly air,
Music makes a harmonious atmosphere,
Laughter and chatter fill the house,
Yet my mind wanders.
Finding it’s way to you.
Imagining your smile,
Thinking back on happy memories we share.
The days lagging slowly behind,
When all I wish is to be with you once again.

I watch a love blossom from behind this pane.
I see the two figures meet for the first time.
It's only through a couple of typed conversations,
leading the girl to fall in love with his words.
Through my standing point I see her phone number across the screen,
wondering what she got herself into.
He replies,
and everyday it's the same.
She let the people she loves,
the other figures that walk around this house,
fall from her life.
They desperately try to be apart of her life,
so she locks her room door.
They knock,
ceaselessly trying to touch her heart.
She holds her hand over her ears,
texting with the other.
Barely making out the texts from my window view I see things no girl would want to hear nor say.
He hurts her emotionally and threatens her physically,
and she just wishes to disappear.
Finally light enters her room as I lift an arm to readjust myself to it.
She let's them in,
telling them to block him from her life.
Her sister sighs,
her worries quenched,
her bent over mom hugs her to try to fill her with warmth and love.
...
A couple of years pass and still I watch,
not much happening,
but the girl now falls away from her friends and family once more.
She has a new texting friend,
One her mother and sister adore,
rather she's hiding from shadows and shaking in her shoes.
Her sister worries,
but goes untold,
as the girl whispers to her mothers ear, "Do you see them too?"
Time goes on and her sister worries more.
Drawings are scribbled of creatures that would only exist in nightmares,
But they exist for the girl.
Years ago she could see them.
Her family believing it only a brilliant imagination.
But, no.
That's not so.
Her new love worries countess times until he pleads with her to tell her family.
I watch through my glass boundary,
a spectator who has been shown quite a tragedy,
The sister leaves,
off on a school trip,
than the girl is missing for a time,
The sister and mother leave the house once a week,
they're gone for a couple of days at a time.
two weeks pass and finally the girl returns home.
I try to listen through this screen,
hearing "psychiatry Hospital"
At night the girl takes prescribed pills,
they scare away her visions.
She goes to school - but comes back early
shaking and tired,
but at night,
not a single dream will come as she stares at the wall.
She does not smile,
and will not speak to friends she used to enjoy the company of.
But I have little I can do to become a performer in this play.
I am merely a spectator, a friendly everyday window watcher.
Or am I?

Sincerely
                      The sister

With every thought,
You come to mind.
With every whisper,
Your name seems to be shapen.
I cannot run away from these thoughts of you,
And I would not wish to.
No matter how hard I concentrate on other matters
All I can think of is you.
I am captured by you,
A captive in my own mind.
And yet,
Freedom is not what I ask for.

Rarely do my poems capture,
the beauty of nature,
a moment or metaphor,
for it's beauty.
The shining frost,
on a chilly morning,
how your breath fogs in the crystalized air,
As frost encases the earth.
Rarely do I tell how eyes gleam,
And smiles grow warm,
Because I speak in stories.
I tell tales through my words,
explaining emotions to my blind heart,
so it can understand how it feels,
And speaking in sobs that roll off my tongue,
much like tears flowing from one's cheeks.
Because I speak in stories,
I have forgotten the beauty of fleeting moments.
of seconds,
of scenes,
of life and earth both.
I write in order to heal my wounds,
to better grasp myself.
To tell myself that I still exist,
when I am no more than an empty shell.
But I have lost the beauty.
I have forgotten the truth,
of how much I love poetry.
And why I adore it so.

You are sparkling darkness,
shining in hopelessness,
shivering flames,
a flicker of longing.

Is she here?
Maybe, we'll see.
So it's you?
Come on,
Let me see.
It's very soft.
Oh boy, ya
I have to get a drink
You have to make a desicion.
You shouldn't be crying, baby.
Don't do anything stupid ever again.
I love you, Jordi.

Her words only hit the glass,
as they ricochet from off my boundary,
Useless trails are only errors to me,
try and try again,
but your actions are futile,
sickened from your arrogance,
maddened from your incompetence,
why must this red string bind us?
Fate beckons us together,
but I walk the length of the string,
keeping you at arm's length,
Don't announce your recent event,
you try over and over to replace me,
I'll never fill that gap,
the emptiness I left in you,
Lie and Love is all I can conjure,
love for a mother whom I see now and then,
Lies for someone special I can't bare to hurt.

This round, ripe fruit,
That I now hold,
Once fell from that tree,
Sitting in a grove.
it's tangy taste lasts on my tongue,
This free once bloomed with fervor,
It's branches sprawling out,
Greeting the morning sun.

Had it been so long,
That I confuse a skipping heart,
To one that beats with fear?
Does nervousness and anxiety run its  quarters?
Or is it beating like a drum,
But I can't tell the two apart,
After he ripped out my heart and ate it so many years ago.
Then what is thumping in that cavity?
What lies restless where my heart used to be?

I want her to stay,
How I long for winter snow to never melt.
I beg her tires to fall from the axels,
To keep her near.
To cage such a bird,
Who has never sang before me,
Yet I can’t help but question,
What if she were to stay?
I long for a mother’s embrace,
And tremble at it’s absence.
Her words fall bittersweet,
Kissing her tongue in sour tones.
Telling me of our alikeness,
Makes the flowers in my ribcage bloom,
As she simultaneously picks these,
Greed glowing from her ghastly eyes.
But I want her to stay,
Beg for her love despite the pain.
She’s landed herself on one of my pedestal’s,
And fear coaxes me to let her stay there.
Distance offer’s salvation from her,
But my heart crumbles as if it’s foundations weren’t quite complete.
I want her to stay,
But it’s best if she goes.
A mother who cannot love,
Isn’t really a mother at all.

'What ifs' are the sheets I choke on at night.
They Knott around my tongue,
And pull tight,
Till sand pours from the small muscle.
These waves of questions, forever lapping at the shores of my bedside.
I lay on it's beaches,
Unable to be lured to sleep.
Self-reprimandation is the caffeine I drink at 3:30 am
and by 5
I'm surfing the waves of mistakes I've made over the last few days,
and every hour stacks years into the currents.
But I'm pulled under by the tidal waves of
'what's wrong with me'
until I drown in the slumber of my tears.

I've always found it odd,
that I could feel such a sensation,
For each night that a dream decides to slip into my room,
Whether it be a glorious dream of happy memories and moments to be,
or A dreadful fragment of the most darkest and dreariest times that allure tears and fright into such an unknown and unconscious time,
Even though the realization comes only after the dream,
Each one has a meaning,
almost never were they because of thoughts that crept in before I drift into the night,
but of times to come,
a warning or gentle tug at what will be,
My dreams tell me of unseen times that I shall either meet with a smile, tears, or shock.
They foretell the future,
yet I never see them coming until the time has passed.
such a mysterious world of wonders I enter as I  float into my wildest dreams.

Eyes watching the wall,
unable to close.
A tangible knot of loose ends,
awake in the mind.

Recall those times,
when that knot wishes to be undone,
but instead is pulled further,
weighing on the mind.

Time ellipses,
More thinking to be done,
so much stress built up,
in one sleepless night.