We are so similar and close people can mistake us for one another
but you and I are different
we are too different
we are separate but,
we are close
but however you're my best friend
you do things that I don't understand and you make me so angry
you do things that make me smile and I don't understand why
we are too "the same"
we are together
we are close
.....you're my sister: I love you

"I wish you well."
                                                          ­                    



                                         ­                                     (but not too well without me)

Poetry is hard.

Not because of writer's block
or the fear of judgemental readers

Not because you can't decide whether or not to rhyme
or you check your profile all the time.

Poetry is hard because of the knowledge you gain.
The dark secrets of people's lives are so
so
so

sad.

Girls that I know in person to be sweet and wonderful
suffer from demons that I couldn't dream of.
Boys that seem to breathe nothing but affection
tell of abusing the worst of substances and the best of women.

Poetry is dark and scary and makes my problems seem so
so
so

insignificant.

When I see your face at school, I know how sad you are inside.
And it's not fair.

It's not fair because I can not help you
I cannot help you
and I feel like a terrible friend.
I am already selfish and would like nothing more than to say "Just get over it" and for it to work but I can't because those are your problems.

Not mine.

I won't tell anyone your secret

Poetry is so
so
so

hard.

I'd like to drink true
and bold
and fearless
and honest,

instead they tell me to bottle it up.

I'd like to breath easy
sleep steady,
smile
drink more
and sigh at a sight-

but instead I'm just foolish.

I've been told it is wrong since forever,
and have tried my hardest to drink
only the freshest wine-
like all the other people my age do,
but I cannot.
It results only in my lying,
Faking emotions I could never have,
pretending to like the pure taste.

I've never seen a problem with it,
but
Not only do they say it is wrong-
it is illegal.
It hurts my soul, for now,
but soon, just a year, I'll be free to love and drink
aged wine the same as I do now,
only with less scrutiny.

I'll be free to be held in public with few judging eyes,
I'll drink unto it
and it will drink into me.
and the brief
secretive moments of passion
that have always stayed hidden that people say is wrong
can end-
and cautiously enter where the sun's rays pour.

I have my eye on a fine bottle of wine,
it gets better with age,
they tell me I shouldn't,
taking a drink would be wrong,
I've only had sips-
but soon
so soon,
I'll have a glass.

The thought comes almost everyday.
In English.
She sits beside me or near me or far.
And I begin to daze upon how it should be.

If only I had my dress.
If I had my dress you would see not my sarcasm,
But the lean meat that I am privileged to call my flesh.

If I had my dress you would not be intimidated by my skin
But left in awe by it's glow

If I had my dress you would not be able to fear my height
But embrace the perfect and soft curves as you look upon me.

If I had my dress you would no longer hear her shrill siren call over my deafening beauty.

Pretty speaks volumes,
But what does untouchable say?

Absolutely nothing right now.

It doesn't go away.
The thought, the feeling, the question,
That keeps me reeling.
What if,
What could have been,
What would be different if I changed what I said?
I look to you with those questions in my head,
What if,
What if.

I am enough.

It's not a boy- so let me stop you there.
It isn't drugs either.

Everyone has an addiction.
Whether you like to admit it, it's there.

For some, it's a substance.
A-
grindable, smokeable, snortable
-substance.

For others it's an action.
A-
keep me busy, cleaning, eating, touching
-action.

For me, it's a cycle.
A-
god just look at him looking at me I want to be pursued what if he would touch me please come over me and touch me before I explode and my friend has to pick up the hot pieces I want to express this but I can't because I'm calm collective and sophisticated and mature and no one but Jackson Chesley Fenna Sarah Fish Alicia and Plum can know how desperately lonely I am I want to be with you oh my god you don't love me what's wrong with you what's wrong with me I can't believe that I waisted all of this energy on you I am so much better than that because I am calm, collective, and sophisticated
-cycle


Repeat.