As I open the door

The cold engulfs me first
raising hairs on my neck, shivers down my spine, prickles on my scalp

Next the smell
so mild, pleasant, crisp. similar to rain or dew
my lungs take in this air for the first time

The light begins to peek over the mountains
clearing the fog, cutting away the dark

The quiet is both a comfort and an uneasiness
Only the earth under my feet whispers as I walk the dirt path

The lake unblemished, like a mirror for the sky to look upon
no wind, no waves, no life

standing there, absorbing the surroundings
I am the one to break the silence, to shatter the utopia
as I drop the pebble in the waters…

these ripples go on                                                              *­Forever

The amount of similies in love poems are ridiculous.
They always remind me of how his eyes are as green as a Christmas tree
or how his hair fell onto his face like a shadow
or that when he blinked his lashes resembled butterfly wings
or that his smile was similar to a crooked coat hanger.

They never mentioned
how his fingers were long and shaky like branches in the wind
or how his shoulders hunched over like a good game of jenga
or how the curve from his chest to his torso was as steep as a hill
or that when I found the bruises on his stomach,
they were like ink splotches all over a beautiful poem.

They left out that his dad hit him like a train
or that his mom lived in the house like it was a bar
or that it would hurt like 16 bee stings
when I saw a line of 16 scars on his left bicep
or that the gasps in between his cries would sound like drowning
or that his eyes can ombre to be as red as an egyptian sunset.

They never warned me that he would come crashing down like an avalanche
or how his constant expression depicted a shattered stain glass window-
every piece beautiful but still apart.

They could've said that reading the headline
"local boy commits suicide"
would numb me like paralysis
or that hearing his last words would echo in my head like screaming in a cave
or that his funeral I would say
"loosing him was like an overcast of rain"
except I lied,
because losing him was like a flood
and that his grave stood out like a redwood tree carved of stone
or how his dad looked at his own hands like looking at maggots.

Love poems never said that I would miss him like being homesick
or that the drive to the cemetery would feel like skyrocketing to the moon
or that I would refuse to play jenga with my little cousins
or how I would hate hanging my clothes without seeing his smile.

The amount of similies in love poems are ridiculous.

This is to all of you who feel worthless
Who find comfort in the words that sting
Im writing this cause I'm the same
I no longer feel worth anything

This is to those who smile
When their world is crashing down
To those of you who laugh it off
When at night it's in your own tears you drown

Today i want you to stand firm
And raise your head up to the sky
For today it may be raining like your tears
But now the heavens, with you, they cry.

It may seem that you are nothing
You may feel as if you're alone
But i promise if as raise our heads together
We will never be on our own.

Even if you cry at night
Cause no one else can see
I have down that for years now
You're the same as me

I'm taking this moment to say this
In case you've never heard it before
You're worth everything to someone
So don't give up, you're so much more.

I won't be the weak one,
Although when I think and speak
I may tweak some I'm just
Searching for reasons
To justify the swell.
I will ride the undertow
Sunken beneath bass lines 
And blunt tails
Intending to take it slow.
But I get a little excited sometimes, you know.
So when this undertow undoubtedly 
Washes me ashore
I'll be the imaginary statue 
Erected in my honor
Proudly saluting every fleeting
Emotion that sailed
Straight through my harbor.
You see, 
Harboring hatred is a trait
I forfeited
To make way for the minuscule moments and glimpses
Of human existence penetrating
Layers of jade and years
Of conditioning and I am successfully
Transitioning into persistently 
Acknowledging the raindrops 
As they hit the pavement and pop.
You see some people feel the rain
While others just get wet,
A wise Rastafarian 
Once famously said.
And I think on it all
Far too frequently for a quiet mind
But I've never had one of those
Not even after rolling papers
Intertwine and smoke fills my eyes,
Because I am accustomed 
To a constant consciousness
And I'd much rather this
Than nothingness
And thus I sit, contemplating 
Consequence 
Aspiring to avoid the guilt of 
Seasons past,
For I am past the point of
Punishment and pain ghosts and
I have plenty of pangs from all
The echoes
In my brain and in these
Rattled apartment's stains
It's not all in vain 
Life grows these varicose
Veins
Colored-in, crawling across the
Window panes 
Of the chamber where my soul remained
Through the bridge until the end of
The refrain.
I am in reign. 
I rock the crown.
I roll the dice when 
I am down
I try to think twice
Before I frown
I contemplate the value 
Of the men that I allow
To lay me down 
Now,
I am grown and I am proud
Because I am humble
And I'm not loud
Any longer,
I listen
To the subtle sounds of
Human respiration.
I am the incarnation
Of ancient incantations that
Shake down the walls which
Separate us all
All the way to the ground.
True power is found
Where unity resounds.