he made a game
of song titles
just to hear
my sigh and
see my smile and
deep down
i knew
that behind his smile
there lay a
long, broken path
that led
to a blackhole
and this blackhole
was his mind.

and as the
days died, died, died
so did he.
he stopped his
game
and i started
to realize
that the game was
not about the songs or
my sighs
but instead it
was about a
cry for help
that i never heard

like coals in a fire
we are led to oblivion

hope is like a drowning sailor
forever fading, always resurfacing
hope is at battle with unfortunate failure
a dying ember, a spark of song

failure is like a death so slow
suffering endlessly all day long
failure is growing, a merciless foe
a leaping wave on a helpless shore

foes are like a pain within
never fleeting, never quite gone
foes are abundant, and seek to win
they trample you endlessly and sneer in disgust

gone is my pain, that once lurked inside
always hiding, except until now
i have stricken my faults and they no longer hide
a speck of sand, forgotten on the beach

I was on top of the world
but look how much I've broken.

Torn between past and future
I live in the present, a ruthless place.

The past used to look peaceful,
the future warm and exciting.

But now they're exploding stars
the things set in stone, the things meant to be.

The shards form dwarf planets
that I won't live to see.

For my time is ticking, ticking away
for I'm taken by the sea.

I stand on the dock, the wind
ripping and ripping at my clothes.

A tear slips only once
before I jump.

And before my eyes I see the exploding stars
they burn bright as the water surrounds me.

Reminders of what I have done,
and reminders of what I could have done.

Then I fall from space with a jerking tug
and when I open my eyes, I am alive.

He stands on the shore, because
he saw the exploding stars too.

Not alive, then.
Just between, like I've always been.

i don't exactly remember
the day that i met you.
i remember the sun,
and i remember you.

your hair was like night, but lighter
your eyes were warm and inviting
quiet, almost calculating
even at such a young age

i can estimate that we were maybe three
possibly a bit younger, but no one will
ever know...ten years ago almost to this day
June 6th, 2013

i met my first best friend.

i was young.
frail, i clung
to the ***** hem
of my mother's skirt.

i didn't know it
i couldn't feel it
but i knew
something was wrong.

it started as a
sting, then pounded
through my blood.

then i turned into a chicken.

it means i'm sorry
for all the things
you've had to put up with
*Je suis désolé

at the edge of every cliff you face
you have the option to fly,
or to fall.

i don't remember the exact moment
that i fell for someone completely, honestly
out of reach, yet standing right
in front of me.

you were the pendulum of my clock;
without you, i still ticked
but not once did i ever have
the same rhythm
as before

It makes me feel so angry; if only I hadn't spoken

I fell for someone who didn't love me, now I feel so broken.

I hug myself and refuse the tears, and feel inside so numb.

I fell for someone who didn't love me; how was I so dumb?

I knew he would pick her over me, so why am I still sad?

I fell for someone who didn't love me; thinking I'd be glad.

I collapse onto my bed, hoping my sorrow will disperse.

I fell for someone who didn't love me; could it be a curse?

I swipe at my eyes, not able to stop crying so ceaselessly

I fell for someone who didn't love me; how so easily?

Tears fall down my cheeks; he made my weak heart break.

I fell for someone who didn't love me; that was my mistake.

i never gave up hope
because it could never leave
like the cake batter in the bowl
you could never scrape out its entirety.
there was always some left, in the end
and sometimes, that is all you ever need.

i don't know why i liked you before.
you were arrogant, unlikeable.
though my feelings were short,
i still fully regret them.

you thought you were "all that"
smart, maybe even a nerd
but you were faking it.
you aren't anything.

nothing but an empty face
full of pretend
now when you speak
i look away.

one day i met a prince.
but his crown was not as gold
not as perfect, not as wealthy
as his heart.

i miss the feeling of

bound paper in my hands

full of secrets the whole world

has access to yet few choose

to indulge in the secrets

that rest right in front of them

imagination seems to be

a thing of the past



there's a certain amount

of personal pleasure one

seeks when reading

that not all novels are capable of.

those that are are precious,

and you feel almost selfish

when you hold it close

and read its beauty.



i miss the unspoken joy

literature and a good plot

grant me and i am at once

satisfied from heart to mind.



it's the book lullaby

i enjoy the most

the calm, rhythmic words

forming sentences, pages, books....

they lull me to sleep

and i dream, dream, dream

of worlds and people

i will never be lucky enough to meet.

people say they aren't real

fictional, they call them

but it's more than that

these characters taught me more

than any other human has come close to.

their unique originality

i cannot find anywhere else

but in the combination of letters

that we call books



and it's this book lullaby

that keeps me loving, caring,

it's the source of my passion

and the source of my dreams

sweet, sweet inspiration

that is one of a kind

you told me to tie
an apple on my head
and you indicated
your bow and arrow

"go stand 100 feet away,"
you said, "and i'll shoot the apple
don't worry,
i've got a nice aim"

i didn't hesitate
wanting to please you
trusting you
with my life

but you threw it away.

twang, the arrow
shot from the bow
the string wobbling
and you smiling.

the arrow soared
gracefully, dangerously
and missed the apple
instead piercing my forehead

it was then that i decided
i trust too much
and that trust is what
eventually killed me.

It was the moment we were born.
Seconds apart, we came into the world.
It always annoyed us, always bothered us
that neither of our parents could remember
which was older, the first from the womb
We would always tease each other
But we were inseparable all the same.

It was the year that we changed
to the lonely, bitter I.
The year I went to my first funeral
and staring into the coffin numbly,
I remember seeing an almost
exact replica of myself

And that was the moment I broke.