If I had a penny for every thought
would I be bedecked in richer cloth
would my opinion be widely sought
or would I be worth nought

does she love me
or not?*
i don't know
i'm not your
******* flower
i have no petals left
for you to pick.

i can't make our relationship sound
beautiful anymore.

She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of ******-liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.

She was the girl constantly being thrown lemons
Expected to make lemonade over and over, she did
Growing used to the sour taste of what she had come to know as her reality
A child’s innocence
She danced through thunderstorms
Twirling through the rain like she twirled through her life
Graceful leaps of laughter sending her in circles, growing dizzy
Only to find that by the time her dizziness had faded nothing was ever the same
Tangy lemonade had returned
Gulping it down along with her insecurities, she kept dancing but the bitter sense of having to grow up so fast hit her like a bolt of lightning she had once danced upon
And finally the thunderstorms grew too strong for her
The downpour that once sent her soaring soaked into her shoes
Damp and despair into her bones
Where once she would have floated over the world she dragged her feet to safety
She’d now watch the droplets of rain hit the window pain
Struggle after struggle
Lemon after lemon
She was left with nothing but the compromise of happiness
The acidity left her melting
Draining the juice from her slowly until she was just a little dusting of zest thrown on top of what used to be her childhood
Her days of dancing but a bare memory
And the girl she used to know had since disappeared
Lost hopes she tucked herself away
Her only idea of dreams locked away in her dream book next to her bed
Frantic scribbles on each page
She wrote her feelings as her old friend Thunder cracked over head
Her faint remembrance of happiness
But a sound
A raindrop
A window away
She blocked her ears now
Willing the constant bang of her Thunder to stop
Couldn’t it tell it only caused her more pain?
Persisting past her pleads; it rang out louder and louder
Taunting her
Haunting her
It yelled at her
And for the first time since the lemons had been thrown her way
She yelled back
Breaking that window open
Broken glass like all her old broken hopes hit the ground
She jumped outside
Enveloped by dazzling drops of clarity and surprise
For her shoes were no longer wet and her bones no longer heavy
And the weight of the storm no longer pinned her soul down
Her lost peace now found
She danced
A dance for all the dances she had forgotten
A dance that left the ground trembling and the skies flickering in her wake
This girl who had been thrown lemons without rest
Had figured out the answer to the test
Finally understanding that she was never too weak to conquer the storm
She was as strong and as fierce as the winds around her
As gentle as a raindrop hitting an eyelash but as grand as a flood covering land as far as the eye could see
No longer would she compromise her happiness
Her dreams
Herself
For now she knew that happiness was for her taking and hers alone
That girl now knew that the next time life through her a lemon
She’d throw it back
And yell
“I am no longer bitter lemonade”
“I am a thunderstorm”

For my best friend who is beautiful, smart and the strongest girl I know, even if she forgets it sometimes.

Pain is deep
It buries itself into the deepest corners of my mind
Pain is throbbing
It pounds through my head with every beating pulse
Pain is constant
It unremittingly reminds me of feelings I don’t want to find
Pain is dull
I can’t escape its dreary presence, it remains so close

Pain is burning
It brings fire to my eyes with each and every tear
Pain is sharp
It stabs my chest with every inhaling breathe I take
Pain is lightning like
It does not warn with sounds of thunder for me to hear
Pain is unique
Without pain, love would be fake

DEATH is more tranquil than the life of love,
More calm, more sure, and more unanguished.
the path among the trees is far more tranquil to the dead
Than to these anxious hearts, uptroubled from their beds,
Who pace in pallid darkness on the leaves,
For no good reason--for no reason
But because their limbs will not lie still upon the sheet.
Their limbs will not lie still. how I pity them.
Sad hearts--their marrow is a-quiver,
And they can not lie them down in tranquil sadness like the dead.

Bringing back memories from months ago
To be in love since this afternoon.

Wrapping my mind around rewards and consequences
To justify being there soon.

Using the truth of the near future as a lie
To appear as content as I tend to feel.

Avoiding urges that are quickly returned
To confirm my actions are real.

Opening blunt, censored thoughts
To explain sporadic running away.

Blocking and forgetting what forever is to be
To allow events to happen as they may.