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Dec 2017 · 210
Alive
I could never understand why my sister never cried as much as I did
Books, poetry, music, strangers on the side walk
I would think of these things
And I would cry
But my sister never did
And I worshipped her
So I tried to stop
I tried to be tough
As I grew up and the tears continued I would harshly rub them away with my sleeve
Embarrassed
Ashamed

Im starting to see however, how necessary tears are
How either the emptiness or fullness inside me needs a way out
I still worship my sister
But I think all these years she’s had it wrong
I don’t want to be ashamed of my tears
I want them to fall from my eyes like leaves in the autumn and I want them to be real and raw
I want to watch them stain my cheeks
I don't want to wipe them away
And I want to think
I am alive
I am alive
I am alive
I am sometimes empty
I am sometimes full
But I am not weak
I am not ashamed
I am connected to the sadness and joy all around me
And I am alive
I am alive
I am alive
Nov 2017 · 416
For M
Do you ever meet someone,
And you can see kindness in their eyes?
You see sincerity in their smile,
And compassion within every freckle on their face.
I know a girl like that.

Some people have souls like water,
Free and powerful.
Others have earth inside them,
Steady and constant.
But today I realized I have someone in my life, who has sunshine in her soul.

I know no matter if the days,
Are filled with thunder or rain,
Her soul will continue as it was,
Filled with sunshine and light,
And greater than any storm.
Nov 2017 · 169
The Crickets and I
The crickets and I,
Are very good friends,
Because we are loudest at night.

Under the moon,
Accompanied by stars,
When no one else is in sight.

The day is full of sounds,
Car horns,
Conversations,
Snapping gum,
Footsteps with destinations.

But the night is different,
Biting fingernails,
Restless mind,
Silent tears,
Memories unkind.

This is why the crickets and I get along so fine.

We wait for the noise to fade and decline.

We go through the day,
And the car horns blair,
The conversations vary,
The gum pops,
The footsteps carry.

We wait quietly.

Until the moon comes out,
The doors close,
The lamps switch off,
The cars sit in rows.

When it is finally dark,
The crickets restlessly chirp,
And I tirelessly write.
We really are good friends,
Eternally up at night.
Oct 2017 · 146
Somewhere...
It's not that I am unhappy here
It's just that I would be so much happier there
Where?
I don't know
The breeze smells like kindness
The sky is blue
The leaves crunch underfoot
The hills are rolling
Wildflowers grow untouched
My laugh is unguarded
My smile not forced
The sun shines so softly
The kites fly high
I'm barefoot
My eyes are closed
I'm full
Sep 2017 · 156
Wallpaper
Everyone says I look like my sister
But I don't
I have blue eyes to her green
A broken smirk to her stunning smile
I am smaller, simpler, more fragile
Ordinary, caged, sensitive
All we share are our freckles
Which look like an accident on me
But intentional and endearing on her
I don't laugh with the night
I am not adored by crowds
I don't drive faster than angels fly
Or have daisies in my soul
I am the quiet one
The roots underneath
While she is the flower
The wallpaper no one notices
Even when it is taken down
I am the sun when it hides behind the clouds
While she is lightning
The beauty of the storm
My friends adore my sister
And she is my mother's favorite
I don't blame them
Whenever we talk on the phone
She always hangs up first
And I always stay on the line
Whenever I am with her
I am always following
And she is always leaving me behind
Sep 2017 · 153
Untitled
Today I made a list and checked everything off
I woke up on time and I’ll go to bed early
I ate three meals
I exercised for an hour

“Is this all?” I shout
I shout and I shout and I shout
No one answers

I guess I don’t have anything to say either

The silence is worse
Than everything
That came before it
Sep 2017 · 136
Bluebirds
When I was young my mother would comb out my hair

She would gather up the loose tangled strands and scatter them to the wind

She said that the birds would use them to make nests for the winter

I wonder if any strands of my hair actually made their way into birds nests

It would be reassuring to know some part of me was a piece of such a beautiful thing

It would be nice to know that someplace somewhere, I was apart of a home
Sep 2017 · 149
Golden Hour
I love the lighting
In my room
When the afternoon is saying goodbye
And the moon is waiting her turn
The sun is gentle with me
Right before she explodes
My room is bathed in softness
It makes me think of poetry
And wildflowers
And kites that never come down
I think that the night
For all the adoration she receives
Has nothing
On this sort of
Peacefulness
Dec 2016 · 157
Untitled
This life is a waste
All I do is take up space
Like the thoughts in my head
And the food I am fed
All I do is consume
But I am running out of room
To hide the fact
That I am actually nothing
But Empty

— The End —