the bitters of winter
visited this very day
upon tender shoots of grass
its coldness did lay

an icy unpleasantness
which remorselessly kills
whatever lies under
its acrid chill

winter will reign over
these parts for many days
and its frosty cover
will have its willful way

the warming feel of summer
gone for a while
replaced by winter's
harsh freezing bile

P- Precision on paper
O- Optimism is optional
E- Extention of words printed in pen
T- Timed and tested for perfection
R- Read and commented on
Y- Yet what is written is for your eyes only

He got expelled this time.

He wasn't sent to
In-school suspension
Or lunch detention
Or the counselor's office.

He was expelled from
Fairfax County Public Schools.

And his friends all freaked.

They sat outside the school
Every morning
And wouldn't go in
To protest.

They signed a petition
That called him a
"Well rounded student"
And
"Well loved by the student body."

I didn't love Brian.
I hated Brian.

Brian was the kid
Who always
Made the class
Stay late.

He was the kid who
Went through the halls
Grabbing peoples butts.

He was the kid that
All the guys wanted to be
And all the girls wanted to have.

And instead of sending him off
To West Point
Where he would have to
Shave his Bieber hair and
Follow the rules for once,
The county revoked the expulsion.

And to me
It seems like
A celebrity murdered someone
And because a thousand fan letters were sent in
They got to go free.

The makeup I had meticulously painted my face with a few hours before was now forgottenly smudged down my cheeks; and the hair that had been pristine now looked greasy and half-hearted, hanging down my back in matted locks. My mask was gone and I was raw. Overly exposed like a fawn. The moon was creating patterns in the water that my drunken eyes sluggishly followed as I tried to piece together my broken bits. The thoughts I’d been evading were creeping up again, no longer held off by the haze of the party. I can feel each thought I carry weighing on me heavier than mercury, pulling me down into the river. I puckered my lips, desperately pulling in the fresh smoke I’d just lit and turning my head towards the shadow that now loomed over me. It was you. You sat down next to me and I passed you the cigarette, without a word. This was me waving the white flag. The white flag that had been precariously placed around its nicotine center. The nicotine that had coated your tar black heart. I could almost taste the sour burn in the back of my throat as I watched you so intently, that I felt my eyes must be burning as brightly as the slowly dwindling **** hanging from your slightly chapped lips. But the only thing I needed to inhale to get me high was you. It was heart breaking to watch you like this. With the moon in your eyes and the smell of ***** and drugs clinging to your clothes. You were an other worldly creature. Your nimble fingers brushing your mouth as smoke seeped from between your full lips. When you looked over at me, dissecting me with your crystalline irises. I swear, the moon blushed almost as hard as I did. Bare toes curling, I gathered some courage but your gaze still made me weak, cutting through me like glass my gaze flashed between your eyes and your lips, trying to decide which was the more precious site. Right then and there, it seemed so simple with the moonlight soaking into my skin I leaned in and kissed you hard, before you had a chance to take another deep puff. My mind clouded over and all I had the desire to do was kiss until both our lips were swollen and tinted red. You pulled me closer and I could taste the mixing alcohol our tongues were creating, savouring it. I could feel your heavy heart pushing on my chest and your hot touch all over. Me, the girl stuck in a body that can’t love her. And you, the boy with the world inside his mind that spilled out every time he spoke. We’d be a mess by morning but neither of us cared. When the sun rose the love we’d felt that night wouldn’t exist. This was just our way to get by, our way to live.

Let me tell you a secret

of a dance that is done
one song at a time
with short.
quick.
stops.
and.
an.
abrupt.
end.

and let me tell you of a poem,
with lines that flow like streams full of thoughts, through the poets mind, eyes, lips and mouth.

and let me show you picture
of
     the
           way
                   words
             can
    create
life
      out
             of
nothing.

Let me whisper a thought to you
that can travel
on a simple note.
a single thought.
and yet the most important, you see.

And If you were to draw a picture, would it be bright and cheerful?
Or if you were to write a song, would it be slow and tender?
Or a poem, rhythmic or timed?
Or a whisper,
a soft quiet word
with no intentions or thoughts of its own.
But, you see, A whisper can linger in the air, my friend
and a whisper is not ever left
unsaid.

So let me tell you a secret
you will not likely forget.
about a dance, a song, a poem, a rhyme,
And a promise that was not kept.

Curse words.
You screamed curse words on my eighth birthday
and there was a mess in the backyard
with bubble sap
and candy wishes.
Tiny sobs.
I watched you leave,
beautiful footsteps
with your cocktail shoes and leather pants.
You're crazy, fine friend.
Sing me your story
and kiss me in public.
Hope.
I was hopeful.
You can pay for groceries
with your words.
Watch them shout.
Scream.
You're acid
and I'm poison.
We hit knuckles and crack flesh
like a matchbox.
You're funny.