I am a writer.
Stringing together eloquent words
To make beautiful sounding sentences:
That is supposed to be
My calling.
And yet ask me
To put into words
The effect you have
On my heart
And I'll tell you
I
Can
Not.
There is something
about your love
That is inexplicable.
Try as I must
I can't fathom
How I landed your heart.
And although I am a writer
My words simply
are not sufficient enough.
So I will leave you with
A collage of cliches
Because there seems to be
No other way:
I love you
to the moon
And back.
You are my sunshine.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Candy is sweet
And so are you.

And when you cried.
Oh when you started to cry.
I felt something inside of me
Drop to the pit of my stomach
Because I had failed you.
I had failed to lift your problems
Off of your shoulders.
I had failed
At making you happy.
And so as you cried
I caught each teardrop
In my hands
And counted each one
And stored them in a jar.

Everything I thought I knew
I know no longer.
My head is not
A library
Filled with shelves
And shelves
Of lively knowledge.
I thought I knew
What love is.
But how can I
When I've been hurt so much?
I thought I knew
What love is.
But how can I
When I cry myself to sleep
Night after night.
Do not read my words
And think I'm experienced
With the ups and downs
Of life.
I do not know anything.
I just know
That I go through life
Dreaming of something more.

The sun
Continues
To rise.
A never ending cycle
Of necessary glow.
And when I look at you,
I see that same glow
In your eyes.
The same consistent glow
In shades of yellow and orange.
And if one day,
I awoke and the glow
Was anything but present,
I'd look to the moon
And ask where it went.
And if the moon
Did not have an answer,
I'd look to the stars.
And if each and every star
Did not have an answer,
I'd know the glow
Has been extinguished.
I could not
Be mad at you.
For I know
That although the glow
Is what we've all expected
It can never be permanent.

you are like a pool
on a hot summer day.
so refreshing
and exciting.
but there is always
that small part of me
that is scared of drowning.
and although you seem all good,
i've come so close to drowning
so many times,
and i'm scared
that one day
i will dive in
and i won't come back up.

i knew
you were dating
so why did i
start to cry
when i saw
the picture
on her instagram?

i just want
to be loved
in the most
simple way.
i want somebody
who will
send me
goodnight
and good morning texts.
somebody who
kisses me
on the forehead.
somebody who
lends me
their sweatshirt
when i am cold.
somebody who calls
to check in
on me
during thunderstorms
because they know
i get scared.
somebody who
whispers i love you.
i just want somebody.

don't rely
on your
beauty
or your
muscles
or your
popularity
because when
you're older
and you're walking
down the street
people won't see you
as a young
beautiful man
or woman.
they will see you
as an old man
or woman
so treasure your heart
and treasure your mind
and never
let them go.

we sat
on the side
of the highway,
our legs dangling
over the edge.
it was 2 am,
and the glow
from your cigarette
lit up
your face.
the ash caught
in your
eyelashes
and when you
looked at me,
your eyes
were the
brightest
shade of green
i'd ever seen.
"babe,"
you mumbled,
your voice sending
shivers down
my spine.
"you look
so **** beautiful
under the stars."
i looked up
into your
green glass eyes,
and you dropped
your cigarette,
crushing it
with the toe
of your
black vans,
then tilted
my head back
and kissed me.
i tasted
the smoke
on your tongue.
you led me
into the forest
on the side
of the road,
and hidden
by the trees,
you slid off
my shirt
just as it
began to drizzle.
your fingertips
grazed
my rib cage
and you felt
my pounding heart,
so full of love.
so much love.
i gave you
my most sacred
gift that night
(love with
a capital v)
and i pray
that you'll
keep me.

10:15
you said
you don't want
a relationship
right now
but were you
reminding me
or yourself?
10:36
do you ever
look at your phone
and smile
to yourself
when my name
pops up
on your screen?
don't i ever
cross your mind
when it's 11:00
and you're driving
alone,
the moonlight
casting a glow
on the
empty passenger seat?
11:11
are you
closing your eyes
and wishing
that thoughts of you
are on my mind?
12:47
of course
not.
1:03
who would?

you gave me
an orange rose
(red ones
are too cliche)
and i pressed it
between the pages
of my bible
because i thought
it would also
preserve our love
but just like
the rose
it dried up
and turned brown
and crumbled
between my fingers
so i took
the flower dust
and locked it
in the jewelry box
you gave me
for our anniversary
but you
were already
too far gone.
i tried
tracing my finger
along the map,
trying to find you,
even just a glimpse.

i never did find you.

i found
the old jewelry box
you gave me
for our anniversary.
the one with
the crumbled
rose petals.
i opened it up
and watched
your ghost
dance around
my room.
"sorry i never called."
you told me.
"i'm dead."

my bed
feels so empty
and i wish
you would stand
outside of my house
and throw pebbles
at my bedroom window
and quietly
sneak it
and lay with me
till i fall asleep.
but i know
that even
if you did,
you would be gone
by morning,
not a trace
of you
except for
the faint smell
of your cologne
lingering on my
dark gray pillowcase,
and i'd sit there
with my knees
pulled to my chest,
inhaling your scent
slowly being
washed away
by my saltwater tears.
you'll always hurt me
an i'll always love you.

trying
to make you
love me
is like
trying
to count
all the
stars in
the sky.

it is
impossible.

and yet
here i am
crossing out
the stars
with a comet
so i don't
lose count.

i know that
i am trying
to squeeze
puzzle pieces
in places
they just
don't fit.

and i know that
when i solve
this equation
x + y
won't equal u.

but there is
a whisper
in my ear
as subtle as
a butterfly
landing delicately
on a flower.

and so i
tie my heartstrings
to that hope
and i swing from it
and try
not to scream
when i fall

and just pray
that you'll be there
to catch me.

and if you don't
i'll land
so hard
and blood
will stain
my jeans
and tears
will stain
my cheeks

and i'll look up
at the tars
(i only got
to 1003
before i
stopped counting).

and i'll curse them
for not
spelling it out
in the sky
that x + y
does not
equal u.

it hurts
knowing that
you will
always remember me
as the girl
who broke
your heart.
i will
forever remain
frozen
in your time.
you will
never
see me as
the girl
who stays up
until 3 am
comforting
the broken souls
with broken hearts,
or the girl
who pulls together
what little money
she has
to buy a
birthday present,
or the girl
who silently wishes
she could take
all the bad
in the world,
all the pain,
all the sadness,
all the destruction,
and bring it
all upon myself
so that everybody
may experience
the sunshine.
in your eyes
i am a monster
who feeds off
of broken hearts
and saltwater tears
and i pray
that someday
you will stop
seeing me
in black
and white.

i am
a butterfly
with torn
tattered wings
but i will
never stop
trying to fly.

i wish
i didn't care
and i hate myself
for caring
and i hate you
for making me care
and i hate myself
for not actually hating you.

man is born
neither good
not bad.
mankind
or manUNkind.
it is not real.
we do
not know
good
or bad
when we first
come from
the womb.
it is life
that shapes you.
life molds
your heart
like a fresh lump of clay
to either mankind
or manUNkind.
take a moment
and think
about your existence.
what shaped you?
what shaped the kind?
what shaped the unkind?

the man who raised me.
the ma who made me who i am today.
the man who looked at me and saw things in me
nobody else did.
the man who inspires his fifth grade
students the same way he's inspired me
for 17 years.
i am a sunflower and he is the sun.
i angle my head to soak in his golden
drops of love to help me grow.
life would be unimaginable without him.
imagine a beach without the roaring mighty ocean.
imagine a hospital without doctors.
it is hard to write a poem using the right
words to describe my father.
so all i will say is this:
he is my father
and his is
irreplaceable.

the darkness
is so overpowering
and i don't know
where it ends
so give me sun.
flowers cannot bloom
without rain
but they also
cannot bloom
without light
so give me sun.
my skin is pale
and cold as ice
so give me sun.
write on my lips
a reason to
carry on
because i am
empty
and frozen inside
so give me sun.
my heart
is turning dark
so give me sun.

i don't
love you.
i love
the way
you make me
feel.
and i know
that is wrong.
i know
i am
leading you on.
i know
i've written
poem
after poem
about being
led on
and how
it hurts
so **** badly
to give somebody
your all
but get
nothing back
in return
and i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm so **** sorry
please don't
hate me.

why did you
bother
giving me
your heart
if you were
just gonna
take it right back?
you knew
i was committed
(and i guess
deep down
i knew
you weren't)
yet you still
went ahead
and took
my heart
and you tossed
it up
in the air
and laughed
when got
scared that
you'd drop it.
you made
a joke
out of something
so fragile
and you don't
even
care.

to put it
simply,
i love you
more
than you could
ever comprehend
because if you are
anything like me
you don't believe
it is possible
that anybody
could love you
at all.

in the grand
scheme of things
i suppose
this gaping hole
you put
in my heart
isn't so bad
but right now
the pain is
excruciating.
every time
i breathe in
i am reminded
of those five
simple words
you whispered
(though it felt
more like screaming)
"i don't love you
anymore"
"i don't love you
anymore"
"i don't love you
anymore"
i have to
force my heart
to continue
its beating
because it's hard
to carry on
when i keep
coughing up blood
and clawing
at my eyes
so i can
somehow
erase the image
of you
kissing her
that is stained
on the insides
of my eyelids
and i have to
keep myself awake
because everytime
i close my eyes
i see
your ghost.
i don't want
my life
to be controlled
by you
and i don't want
to keep bleeding
for you
and i don't want
to keep loving you.

not every
poem i write
is for you.
not ever
tear i shed
is for you.
not every
heartbeat
is for you.
not ever
breath i breathe
is for you.

you are not
a part
of my life
anymore
and i think
you forget that
sometimes.

i wish
i could say
this is
the last time
i write
about you,
but that
is not
true.
i could (falsely)
fill a whole
700 page notebook
with the words
"i'm over you
i'm over you
i'm over you"
but i know that
tomorrow
i will be
plucking the petals
off a flower
and catching my tears
in a jar
and the side
of my hand
will be stained
from the cursive letter
graphite words
of my love
for you.
just when i think
my thoughts
for you
are simply
platonic,
you make your way
over to me
and wrap
your arms
around me
and i find
myself
daydreaming
of mr
and mrs
coffee mugs
and breakfast
for dinner
and lazy saturdays
when we stay
in bed
until noon,
wrapped in blankets
and each others' arms.
i think
if you told me
you were
dropping
out of school
to travel
the world
i'd probably
pack my bags
and join you.

you look at me
and you praise me
for being
so strong.
you don't know
how weak
i truly am.
in the confines
of my bedroom
the floors
are flooded
with my saltwater tears
and the razor blade
glistens at me
from across
the room,
taunting me
to draw my blood
on my wrists,
and the screams
in my head
bring me
to my knees
and i can't
i can't
i can't do this
anymore.
but you keep
hanging these metals
around my neck
and they're
so
****
heavy.
i'm not strong
i'm weak
i'm weak
i'm weak
so
****
weak

the bible says
in the beginning
God created
the heavens
and the earth.
"and God said,
let there be light:
and there was light."
what you say
becomes who you are.
God said
let there be light
and therefore
He is light.

her heart
is a leather bound journal.
black inked words
decorate the pages
with her secret
joys,
heartbreaks,
disappointments,
favorite memories,
songs,
people.
all the things
she wishes
she could talk about
with somebody,
but she doesn't
because she doesn't
think anybody
will care enough
to listen to
all the little things
that mean so much
to her.

blood dripped
down my chest
as i ripped
my heart out
and gave it
to you
but i ignored
the pain
because i thought
your love for me
was stronger.
but then
i realized
you never loved me
at all.
so now
my favorite dress
is stained
and there's
a hole
in my chest.

your warm hand
grips mine
as we walk down
this scenic route,
the tall oak trees
flaming with
leaves of orange fire
(they remind me
of my burning
love for you).
we dance on
the fiery streets,
my heart filling
with pumpkin spice love.
i inhale
the scent
of nutmeg
and your cologne
as you cup
my cheek
in your hand,
leaning down
to plant
a fiery kiss
on my lips.
who ever knew
that i would
fall for you?

he told me
i am like
summer.
when i
was here
nobody even
acknowledged
my presence.
they took
advantage of me.
but once
i left,
once i
was gone,
they all missed me
and everything
i had
to offer.

sometimes
i just want
to jump
into the
roaring, endless ocean
and let myself
sink to
the bottom
because if
i breathe in
and water
fills my lungs
but i do
not drown
then i am
invincible.

she stands
in the gas station bathroom,
looking at
her sunken eyes
in the smudged,
graffitied mirror,
wondering
how she got here
and how she can get out.
her shaking hands
grip the sink
as she stares
at the unrecognizable version
of herself,
the version of herself
she never saw coming.
she wants to run.
to get out
and never turn back
but her mind
holds her
in place,
gripping her
by the collar
of her shirt.
***.
alcohol.
her life
is consumed
by the things
she always told herself
she'd never get near.
but now
her life is
as cracked as
the gas station bathroom mirror
and there is no escape.
there is no turning back.
when she first
opened her legs
to him
she never realized
she would be
shutting the door
to her past life.
when she first
opened the bottle
she never realized
she would be
shutting the door
to her past life.
she never realized.
and now that
she understands
where she stands
she wishes
to be standing
somewhere else.
she wishes
she could build
a time machine
right there
in that gas station bathroom
to take her back
to life
as she once knew it.
"**** it,"
she whispers
to her reflection,
pulling a flask
out of her purse
and taking a swig.
there is no changing
the past
so she won't
bother
trying.
she wipes
the mascara
from under her eyes
and sticks
her middle fingers up,
showing life
she doesn't
give a ****
anymore.
it can't get any worse
than this.
she steps out
of the gas station bathroom,
bumping
chest to chest
with him.
he grins down
at her,
his green eyes
dancing with lust
and seduction.
she follows him
to his car,
the flask
swishing noisily
in her purse.
"it can't get any worse
than this,"
she thinks
to herself
a few weeks later,
crying on the floor
of the gas station bathroom,
staring at
the plus sign
on the dollar store
pregnancy test.

music is honestly
such a beautiful thing.
i just wrote
about not being able
to feel anymore
and this song
came on
that was so
beautiful
and made me feel
so much at once
that the emotions
poured out
of my eyes.
i haven't felt
in so long
and god
is real
and i'm speechless.

how
do i write
a poem
about what
i'm feeling when
i
don't
know.
i am numb
to the world
and everything
in it.
i don't feel
sad.
i am past that.
i've reached
the point
when sadness
isn't strong
enough.
i don't know
what to do anymore.
i don't know
how to live.
i don't know
how to feel.

it's been
one year
since you
dumped me
and i
didn't think
i would
make it
another day
but here
i am
one year
later and
i have
never felt
more free.

"you look
like hell,"
he said,
the cigarette dangling
from his tanned fingers.
"you are hell,"
i whispered back,
my voice shaking
like the earthquake
that destroyed mexico.
the cigarette slipped
from his fingers
and fell to
the ground.
i quickly
crushed it with
the toe
of my boot,
looking up
at him
with challenging eyes.
"i gave you
everything,"
he growled,
his fists
clenched at his sides.
"you gave me
more bad
than good,"
i said,
and with that
received one of those
fists
at my nose.
i fell to
the floor,
blood pouring out
and gathering
in a puddle
by my face.
i lay there,
a motionless lump,
tears streaming
down my cheeks
as i am
kicked,
punched,
screamed at,
spat at.
there are chunks
of hair missing
from where he
ripped them
from my head.
bruises
and cuts
decorate my hole body
like a disturbed
christmas tree.
"apalogize
for what you said,"
he snarled,
his foot
dangerously close
to my
already bleeding face.
"i'm so sorry,"
i whispered,
the world a shade
of black
and white.
"i didn't
mean it."
he nodded
his head
slightly.
"tell me
you love me,"
he said,
an eyebrow
raised.
"i love you,"
i whimpered,
grabbing
his outstretched hand
and wincing
in pain
as he pulled me up.
"i love you too,"
he angled
my chin up
and pressed his lips
to mine,
then pulling away
suddenly and spitting
out some blood
from my mouth
with a chuckle.
he returned to kissing me.
didn't the bible say
the devil was
deceitful?

hard times bring out obstacles bring out
victories bring out failures bring out
character bring out experience.
life isn't easy. it's a big, tangled, crazy,
wild, overwhelming mess that can get
in the way of success of happiness of
movement of vision of optimism but
trust me when i say light at the end
of the tunnel isn't just a cliche
statement it is true is relateable is
real is tangible is attainable
if you just keep walking
down the road even if you trip
over the cracks and skin your knees
and tear up your clothes because when you
finally make it out you will feel the
strength of a thousand football players
in your heart and you will learn
things about yourself you didn't even
know existed and you will win.

music on.
world off.
music on.
world off.
music on.
world off.
world off.
world off.
music helps me understand
my complicated jumble
of feelings.
music helps put
a name
to my emotions.
i feel
so many things.
but not only
does music
help with
my feelings,
it also helps
to block out
those feelings.
it is my escape
if only for
a little while.
music on.
world off.
music on.
world off.
music on.
world off.
world off.
world off.

god i want
to  kiss you
so **** badly.
i look at you
and all i
can think of
is your perfect lips
pressed against mine
and i know you want to.
but it would be wrong.
you have
a girlfriend.
and as awful
as it sounds
if you kissed me
right now i wouldn't
stop you.
in fact
i'd probably
kiss you back
girlfriend or not.
and maybe
that makes me
a horrible person.
but i can't
control the  
way i feel
about you.
even though
i try
keeping it all
locked up
in my box.

there is
a box
where i keep
my feelings.
there is
a lock
that keeps
the box
shut
and a key
that i wear
on a chain
around my neck.
that box
will stay
locked tight
because my feelings
don't get me anywhere
but hell.
i'm so tired
of giving
my all
only to lose
a piece of myself
in the process.
i don't want to
lose anything else.
i don't have
anything else
to lose.
i have already
lost myself.

i feel like
i am stealing
the food
straight from
their mouths.
how can
i eat
when they have
NOTHING.
hurricane maria took
EVERYTHING.
they don't have
water.
they don't have
electricity.
they don't have
ANYTHING.
my family
in puerto rico
is alive
but they're
barely breathing.
how can you
when you've lost
EVERYTHING?
the least i can do
is dedicate this poem
to them.
pray for puerto rico.

why can't
we all just
get along.
to just keep
our opinions
to ourselves
and live in peace.
a man kneels
during the national anthem
because he belives
black lives matter.
instead of flooding twitter
with hateful comments
maybe just think about
why he kneels.
we are free
to take a stand
in what we
believe in
and people
need to learn
to respect that.
a girl
covers her mouth
with duct tape
for a day.
you think
she's weird.
she's actually supporting
the victims
of bullying
who can't speak up
for themselves.
instead of making fun
of her
maybe just think about
how bold that is
for her to take
a stand like that.
i am so sick
of seeing our world
plagued by hate.
you may not
agree with things.
i don't agree with things.
but i know better
and i spread
happiness.

dear friend.
thank you
for everything
you do.
thank you
for being
my shoulder
to cry on.
for being
the ear
that always listens.
i am hard
to get along with.
that i know.
i'm stubborn.
but you get me.
you understand me
like nobody does.
and this poem
isn't going
to have beautiful
flowing verses.
it's really raw
and rough.
but i know
you'll love it
anyways
because you
are my best friend.
you are such
an amazing person
inside
and out
and i have no
idea where
i would be
if it weren't for you.
i love you
so much.
thank you.

if you
are just going to
take my words
and twist them
to turn
my own sister
against me
then don't
talk to me
at
all.

i wish i could say
the dead roses
sitting in my bedroom
aren't still there
because they remind me
of the love we had
once upon a time.

i wish i could say
the love letter
folded in my bible
hasn't been read
in months.

i wish i could say
the polaroid i used to have
taped on my wall
is now a crumbled ball
at the bottom of my trashcan.

i wish i could say
the socks you bought me
for my birthday
were donated to goodwill.

i wish i could say
my heart doesn't bleed for you
whenever i see you
with her.

i wish i could say
our song doesn't
send tears
racing down my cheeks.

but i would be lying.

just stop.
don't take my hand
and lead me
into the dark
only to abandon me
and make me
fend for myself.
stay and carry
the flashlight.
tell me
you love me
and make the way.
it's hard enough
not knowing
how you actually feel.
it would be
a thousand times harder
to sit here thinking
i'm you're one and only
when i'm actually nothing.
communication is key.
so tell me how you feel.
tell me if this
is real
or if you don't
want to go on anymore.
i can handle that.
but please
don't take my hand
and lead me
into the dark
only to abandon me
and make me
fend for myself.

confidence.
it's something
i have so little of.
there are days
when i walk
the halls
with the confidence
of a celebrity
in a music video.
and there are other days
when i wish
i was invisible
because i'm just too
ugly to be looked at.

confidence.
it's something
i wish i had
in great abundances.
but i don't.
and i probably won't
for a long while.

i need you

to wipe the

tears

from my cheeks,

and put

bandaids

over the gashes

on my

heart,

and whisper

in my ear

that it will

all

be

ok,

because right now

my hope

has run dry

like a

poor village's

water supply

(although the

well in my

eyes seems

to always

be full to the

brim).

The girl steps onstage.
She picks up the microphone,
looking at the hundreds of people sitting
in front of her.


The music plays
softly in the background.
The young girl opens her mouth,
her heart.


She sends a message,
her words drifting sweetly through the auditorium,
to the hundreds of people sitting
in front of her.


The girl steps into school.
She looks around at the hundreds of people walking
in front of her.

She runs a hand
through her
dark, inky hair,
smoothing it out.


She remembers
checking her outfit,
her hair,
her smile.


Scared,
that she wasn’t good
enough,
pretty
enough
for the hundreds of people walking in front of her.


The girls steps into her room.
She is alone.
She doesn’t have to pretend
for the hundreds of people who were
in front of her.


The girl steps into her kitchen.
Her mother looks at her disapprovingly.
The young girl sighs,
aware of her mistakes.
The hundreds of expectations her mother has for her
are too much.
Is she a disappointment?


The girls stands in
the shadows of
her older sister.


Her beautiful,
talented,
older sister.


The girl tries
to step out of
the shadows,
but everytime,
she gets
engulfed again.


The girl steps outside,
gazing at the hundreds of stars spread
out in front of her.


She closes her eyes,
wishing for the hundredth time,
hoping
that this time,
her wish will come true.


The girl steps into school again.
She looks around at the hundreds of people walking
in front of her.


She stands with her hundreds of friends,
holding on tightly.
She is not ready to let go.
She will never be ready to let go.


The girl walks with her crush.
She gazes up at him
the way she gazes up at
the hundreds of stars.


She opens her journal
and flips to an empty page.
Her pencil bursts on the paper,
as she writes about
the hundreds of people,
hundreds of stars,
hundreds of friends,
one love.


The girls smiles for the hundredth time.
She knows the smile is fake,
but nobody else does.
She tries to stay happy,
because her friends happiness
is more important
than hers.


The girl is like a
balloon.
Once somebody lets go
of the string,
she drifts
farther and farther
until she is
gone.


She needs her hundreds of friends
to hold tightly to
her string,
so she doesn’t
float away.


The girls steps outside of the schools.
She waits
for her mother to come,
gripping a test
with 90% written
in red ink.


She smiles excitedly,
hoping her mother will be proud.
One of her hundreds of expectation.


The girl reaches home
and sits in her room,
alone again.
She wishes for her hundreds of friends
that she isn’t ready to let go of.


The girl decides to do what she does best.
She pulls out a pencil
and opens her journal to a fresh page,
and begins to write:


“The girl steps onstage.
She picks up the microphone,
looking at the hundreds of people sitting
in front of her.”