i turn back
and forth
restlessly
in bed

a nostalgic
breeze comes
t  h  r  o  u  g  h
and en
folds

i become numb

thoughts
wander
in my head

the summer air
is hot but i
am cold

i try closing my eyes

but the memories
keep me awake

your voice
stood out
from the
other guys

but dear
you’re some
thing i cannot
partake

it’s hard to watch
the past as it
f   a   d   e   s
a  w  a  y

i built the
                     t
                     a
walls            l
around         l
my heart      e
                      s
                       t

you promised to
make me happy
each day

i held on for so
long but soon
fell a p
          a r
              t

“how come you
didn’t stay?”

my heart mistrusts

and i wonder why
you gave up
on us

I want to wander
To the outskirts of town
Far past what I've ever known

I want to explore the world
And not be stuck in this stupid place
I've been forced to call "home"

I want to become one with nature
Breathing in and out, in and out
With the sound of the trees

I want to be stuck in alood
Alone with my thoughts,
Just me, and the vast open sky

But I'm having trouble finding that place

I need to find comfort
And rest for awhile
Eventually slip away

I always wonder where to go
I'm not quite sure but I know
There's somewhere out there for me

I just have to keep searching

its sad how teenagers feel alone
surrounded by others upset in their
room with their thoughts while from
good families and happy childhoods yet
mistreated by those who could not
understand them feeling no meaning for
their life no one to support them forgetting
to remind themselves scars will heal and
smiles will return and monsters inside will
disappear if i could tell them one thing it
would be you are never too broken sure
you have scars and fragile memories but
then again all great survivors do

too many times
filled up to the rim
with your morning coffee
it becomes damaged
and breaks away
eventually deteriorating
from the inside out
it’s no longer pleasant to hold
or smooth to the touch
as you read the morning paper
cupping the warmth in your hands
and as it chips deeper and deeper
the coffee begins to seek through
the crevices and tiny holes
when sooner or later
it ends up making its way
to the back of the cabinet
where the broken items are kept
it may not be your favorite coffee cup
(anymore) but rather it is a place that holds
the memories and confessions
of the morning conversations we shared
with our raspy voices and smiles
that effortlessly fell into the cracks
and will last as time goes on

no one talks about death
yet it happens around us every day
we lose the one we love the most
and try to move on
as if nothing has happened

we can't seem to understand
that they won't suffer anymore
they have lived a life
full of memories & experiences
with their children
who are their pride and joy

we can't be upset that their time
is coming to an abrupt end
we should be content
we got to share a life with them

they will always be with us
in our morning cups of coffee
and in the random acts of kindness
we see when we least expect it

death is not such a bad thing after all
our loved ones will be able to travel
through the wind and go to all the places
they couldn't be when they were alive

and maybe, perhaps
that place is right next to you

it has a different kind of atmosphere
cold spots throughout the halls
heavy cylinders feel frigid to the touch
it's a different world inside these walls
no longer feeling like home
children with pale faces
and blue palms roam the halls
slowly making their way
to the next class of the day
the sound echoes
and bounces off the walls
like an ongoing cry for help
everything is chilly here
with a cry of desperation
between the icy floors
and chilling desks and chairs
we all share the same faces
of expressionless emotions
waiting and waiting
for the bell to ring
to escape

a venerable set of pearls
got placed on her bare skin
as she felt the coldness
rush through her body

she glanced down
to readjust the gold clasp
seeing her matte red lips
in their polished reflection

the cream-colored pearls
felt so heavy on her neck
and made her nervous heart
seem to sink into her chest

they were her grandmother’s
her mom told her long ago
as she imagined seeing her grandma
walk down the aisle so beautifully

she held onto the pearls
with fond memories of love
as she opened her mouth
and said the words

“I do”

i want to write the way i think
always obsessing over simple things
always continuing without interruption
always going farther than necessary

i want my words to flow
like raindrops down a window pane
like a fish traveling with a river stream
like the traffic on a highway at 4:00 am

i want to write on and on
until i feel like breaking down
until i am unable to catch my breath
until i don't endure pain anymore

i want my thoughts
to keep alive hopes and dreams
to run freely from my mind to paper
to create warm feelings of love

i want to write about you

I recognize her and run
but she chases me into the darkest
corners where I cower and feel the
anxiety thrum like musical chords in
a restless tempo. She drowns me but
I still seem to be gasping for air. I try
to scream but the clenching in my
stomach won’t disappear. She shields
me in her sensitivity as she consumes
my mind—forcing her way into my
unsuspecting thoughts. She captures
my attention for her own use. She’s
everywhere I look, she’s the only thing
I feel deep inside. She becomes the
blood rushing through my veins and the
skin covering my trembling bones. She’s
the monster under my bed and the one
living in the depths of my closet. She has
become the darkness of my life, and
I can’t seem to escape.

Ever since I was a little girl,
I've believed in a lot of things.

I believe in memories, and first kisses,
   and good tasting tea.
I believe in books, and people,
   and art, and movies.
I believe in the sunrise for new beginnings,
   and the sunset to end a rough day.
I believe in the fact that we are here
   in this world for a reason.
I believe we are all made up of stardust
   and a part of the universe is in us.

Sometimes I even believe in love.

And I believe it's a shame because
   I believe in all these things
   but most of the time
   I don't believe in *myself

what happens to a nervous heart?
does it shrink up like a pupil in bright light?
or feel like an oxygen tank full of air
and then explode once under pressure?
does it tremble like a stereo?
or make you suddenly black out
like a deer running across the highway?

maybe it just lasts for a little while
like the dew on the morning grass

or does it stay bottled up inside your chest
waiting for the moment to break down?

dull and lifeless buildings
line the streets like a barricade
blocking the only sunlight
casted down on the cityscape

a murky shadow is scattered
onto the sidewalks and cars
making those walking below
feel as if they are trapped

misty clouds float their way
towards the busy streets
creating gloom up ahead
as it moves in like a plague

a soft chatter is heard
under the loud, repetitive sound
of cars beeping their horns
and the city life buzzing about

darkened parallel windows
are intricately placed on the edge
of crumbling brick and cement
somehow not letting any light in

what a desolate location in a city
supposedly full of life

i am overly emotional
(i am extremely insensitive)
i am too stubborn
(i let people walk all over me)
i always push people away
(i wonder why everyone leaves)

i am a great listener
(i talk too much sometimes)
i put others before me
(i forget about myself)
i find joy in the simple things
(i take too much for granted)

(i am not the brightest star in the sky)
but i am good enough to be compared to the moon
(i can’t always write you poems or draw you pictures)
(yet) nothing will ever convey how much you mean to me

i will get mad at you sometimes
(i will love you always)
i will notice your flaws
(and i’ll overlook your imperfections)

but i have many flaws too
and not one of them is loving you

she looks into the mirror
tracing the flaws on her face
like her crooked nose
and her chapped lips

she puts her hand
on top of her reflection
trying to avoid the image
in the glass

she follows the outskirts
of the mirror's edge
noticing tiny words
scribbled in the corner

she glances at them
reading the words carefully
as she says them out loud
and comes to a sudden realization

"reflections in the mirror may be distorted
by socially constructed ideas of beauty"

where i am cold (you are warm)
snowflakes fall (the flowers blossom)
under the blankets (out on the beach)
utter silence (the chirps of birds)
the sweet smell of pine (citrus aroma)
(the air i breathe) the air you breathe
(the stars i see) the stars you see
(the love i feel) the love you feel
two different worlds (under the same sun)

after a long day
I often find myself
resting my head upon
a fluffy cushion of feathers
where I recollect my thoughts
and anticipate for tomorrow
the silky layer of cotton
relaxes and puts me at ease
so delicately
like dust particles
floating through the air
I can smell the trace
of my own unique scent
when snuggling closely besides it
before closing my eyes
and leaving reality for a while
it’s amazing how the simplicity
of laying my head down
on the soft mass of cotton
can soothe my bones
and make my blood
rush calmly through my body
the thought of writing about it
makes me long for the feeling
of nestling in the warmth
so I could close my eyes
and fall soundly asleep

tick, tock
a second passes
a missed opportunity
a lost second chance

i don't like making people feel
as if they are on a strict schedule
always rushing from one place to another

we set limits on people
(usually those who need it the most)
like a great opportunity at work
or a second chance for a better grade

i wish i was limitless
freeing people from the boundaries
of feeling trapped in
by the minute and second hand

there is so much more to see
once you look past the hours
the minutes and the seconds
and allow yourself to create
your own time

stuck in the lost depths
of the autumn moonlight,
the whimsical trees sing
their song of the night.

out by the river,
fluttering lilacs dance
until the wild dawn appears
above the ocean's horizon.

cars flying by
on the soaring roads,
hoping to exist carefree
like the silent mountains.

the river of the north
casts a shadow of the
moon drops and their
colorless reflections.

storm season approaching,
the wind dust will cast away
a spell on the nighttime waves.

breathing colors,
like the wallflower blossoms
as they live in wanderlust.

it seems to be a dark world,
yet this universe is pure
when it is suddenly compared
to the world outside our minds.