I've been to tired to speak
whats the sense
when all you do is judge me
I've been to tired to meet your cerulean eyes
for one look
and I'll be wishing you wanted me
I've been to tired to follow you
your musky scent so strong
but it's all wrong
you'll only leave me with grief

i thought i knew
for the depths of solitude i traveled
sharpened my eyes
trapped my heart
tainted my very spirit
but now I see you
crimson red
fiery hot touch
there may as well be horns sprouting from your head
oh
your the animosity I wish I never had

In class we talked about writing poetry
poets are outstanding
they connect two separate things
use similes and metaphors
think everywhere
and than within
skill, talent, expertise are needed
my heart skipped a beat
are my poems a mockery?
but then I read those cries for help written in the dark at 3 am
I realized
poetry can only come from the mind
and most importantly
a juvenile one like mine

what more to the world is there then tear stained cheeks and crumpled papers with words no one dares to speak?

She lost the tattered paper
the same way she lost herself
dropped and forgotten
friends disappear
out in the open
world watches her solitude
ready to be stepped on
strangers laugh at her whimpers
rain dances upon the sheet
silence suffocates
all alone
*all alone

you said i was amazing
was I
like the first breath a baby takes
like the first snowflake to fall
like the butterfly that breaks out of its cocoon
or was I
an illusion
a dream
you wished
to have

Your talking
but I cant hear you
those coral lips move up an down
but my eyes can't focus
Your hands meet mine
but I can't touch you
why
your an equation that doesn't factor
or
maybe I  just can't figure you out