my rose is crying.

the sound of the rain
fills the room as the mist
creeps in through my open window,
caressing the flower on my windowsill.
the drops
lick the petals as they fall
from the eyes of my pretty flower.
the pitter patter of the pollen
strikes the windowsill
as the flower sobs,
heaving its leaves against the window screen,
drowning the voices of the people underneath.
the cool breeze through the open window
blows more tears from the rose’s eyes-
i feel for my flower.
i care for my flower.
i am my flower,
crying out for you,
but my voice gets caught in the sound of the rain.

The smell of the woody fire drifting through the air
and the sharp tint of the grass
reverberate the crunchy leaves I am stepping on,
mixing with the memory of
your crisp shirt,
your soap smell,
your hair on my ear
and my hand on your arm
holding onto you like it’s the first time,
like this is the only time I’ll get to
because it very well may be.

She runs in choking,
holding in her tears, plugging
her eyes with her sleeve
so the waterfall won’t cascade down her cheeks
and ruin her makeup.

Is she alone?
She checks the stalls for feet-
a sigh of relief,
so she doesn’t have to pretend
to be washing her hands as her heart breaks.

She grabs at the sink,
supporting her weight as she
tries not to fall down.
A sturdy hand
to make her feel less alone.

Looking in the mirror-
Why? Why me? Why now?
She watches the tears spill down her
cheeks, red with emotion.
Fiery, like her mother’s eyes.

Letting out a sob- just one-
just to pacify
her aching heart, her
stinging skin. She stares at her
reflection-tired.

Imagining them all looking at her,
imagining him looking at her.
So tired of everyone looking at her.
She’s so tired.
Her face hardens with her heart-

A splash of water-
so much for the makeup-
a slap of the face,
a shaking breath as she leaves
the bathroom.

no more.

I had it back in October
as the autumn leaves took flight

But then in chilly November
I became aware of my poetic plight

December has arrived
and my mind is still blank

I'm in desperate need
of some fuel in my tank

The words escape me
my mind I can't use

the burning question
where the hell is my muse?

To the boy who was never mine, but pretended to be

ive been trying to write this letter for months now
im still not sure if it should be an apology
my biggest mistake was thinking that you could fix me
only i can fix me
i shouldnt have let you all the way in
i turned you into a puppeteer
i got ******* even though we said no strings attached
i wish you didnt have to lose me to appreciate me
i hope someday you come across a picture of me watching fireworks
and you wonder how many books i have read since then
or how many times i have re-watched eternal sunshine
or if i still eat ice cream even though im lactose intolerant
or if i ever think of you
I don’t.
i want you to have sleepless nights where your eyes flicker
trying to forget images of me laughing in your passenger seat
i want your heart to ache every time some one mentions my name around you
i wanted so bad for you to fight for me, but now i am glad you didnt
you can have the watch back, time does not exist to me anymore


I cut off every string that leads back to you

-
I’d scream for death
With this pain inside

So take this broken heart,
Oh my remaining card

I’d rather lose all the love
And trade it for a cold rock

Beg for your enchanted hand
That’s fond of collecting hearts

Seize the grief is my only demand,
Oh Queen of Hearts of Wonderland.