the worst part of love
is the falling out

the moment where you get off the ground,
dust off your clothes,
take a deep breath,

and admit:
"i fell for him"

key word being fell

cause the falling's over
and reality's begun

picking myself off the floor,
heart in my hands,

the flint is dull and
sparks haven't flown
for too long

today's my birthday,
but i don't want presents
today's my birthday,
but i don't want wishes
today's my birthday,
but i don't want to be older
today's my birthday,
but i don't want a party
today's my birthday,
but i already have everything i want

they told me that my mom loved birthdays
they told me she'd stay up all night
baking cakes and cookies and pies
they told me she planned parties months in advance
they told me she loved to sing happy birthday
and that she had perfect pitch too

they told me she made me her
famous almond dream cake
for my first birthday
smothered in coconut frosting
with one little palm tree
precariously placed on top

they told me that she
learned to knit
just for me
to make me a soft blanket
adorned with the words,
my little angel, cara

today's my birthday,
but i don't want it to be

today's my birthday,
but i don't want to remember my mother

the time has come
for tough decisions

the time has come
in which i must decide

between passion and practicality

and guys, they're both giving me fantastic arguments

i have this theory
that all my poems
will remain hopelessly unfinished
until i am with you

People come and go

But why do I have to stay?

valentine's day,

one-way-love day,
cry-my-eyes-out day,
very-very-bad day,

stale-mystery-chocolates day,
wilting-vase-of-flowers day,
crumpled-blush-toned-cards day,

weirdly-large-bear-day,
stupid-consumer-holi day,
cupid's-not-coming day,

everyone-else-is-in-love day,
couples-p.d.a. day,
******-up-my-heart day,

a-day-after-valentine's day,
thank-god-its-over-to day

hopeless romantics
hear wedding bells
wherever we go

we see tuxes
and white dresses
projected on our eyelids
every time we so much as blink

when we fall in love,
we imagine
ceremonies,
and dinners,
proposals,
and engagements

it's nothing more than a force of habit
for a hopeless romantic

imagining having kids with them
making a family
sharing all your secrets
and knowing that you trust them above anyone else in the world

How sweet it is
That we humans love to hold hands
Would it be my choice
To hold on to a lifeless
Sweaty appendage?
Not really.
At least,
Not until I held your hand
It was not lifeless
It was a living, breathing being
With a mind of its own
Trickling its way up my side
Caressing my face
And slapping me,
Hard
So hard,
It left a print for me
To remember you by
So I guess your brain
Was behind the hand
After all

why i will march
on march 24
for the victims of
february 14

i will march
because i have been a student

i still am a student

i will march
because i have seen
people with guns
and what they can do

i will march
because my best friend
lives 18 minutes away
from parkland, florida

and my cousin
lives 30 minutes away
from great mills high school
in lexington, maryland

i will march
because
people prefer to protect
their weapons of mass destruction
over their own children

i will march
because i am sick
of thoughts and prayers

i am sick
of calls for action
without any move
to do anything

i will march
because many of our top politicians
still generously take contributions
from the NRA

i will march
because my president
would rather
protect the 2nd amendment

than let me live till graduation

i will march
because

any kid
out of the hundreds that have died

could have been me

it still could be me

and i am not just going to let that happen

i'm obliterated

winds wrack my body,

my skin crumbles,
and my organs flop,
my blood spills rivers,
and my bones crack and tumble

i'm blown away,
my entire being,
my entire person

until all that's left
to hold me together

are words,

full of love and hate and sadness and depression and joy and melancholy and confusion and fear and jealousy and passion and anger and evil and

love
love
love
love

all that's left are WORDS

now that i'm thinking about it,

i can't help but share with you all

how hopelessly in love i am

with the english language

Call me what you want
Say I'm a *****, I'm worthless
You won't break my skin

she walked in with such a glint in her eyes
and you walked in with a hidden smile on your face

you got your food
and immediately plopped down next to her
as if there was no where else you ever belonged

we had a group discussion
about things that don't even ******* matter

while you two shared tiny inside jokes
and conversed like it was only you both
that could hear

we walked out of the hall
and you two walked ahead
alone
hands swinging
occasionally touching
eyes shining with
something

you thought i wouldn't notice
the lingering glances
and whispered stories

and how you follow her around
like a lost puppy
looking for a treat

and how her face lights up
like a ******* christmas tree
when you text her

she exhales a tiny
"awwwwe"

and i know you've told her
something so characteristically sweet

and how she's so eager to respond
like she's been waiting to do it
all day long

and how she changes around you

and creates a personality
just for you

like how she flips her hair
and pouts her lips

and says dumb things
only so you'll explain them to her
in your adorable awed smart voice





how she gave you your first kiss last night

how you didn't think i'd see
you bending your neck
leading your hands to frame her delicate face


my once delicate face
crumpling in the stale silver moonlight

staggering home

and sleeping just so i'll
forget for once
that it was her
and not me

the problem is that i only felt like myself when i was with you

a tricky subject considering
you're dead and gone

and my true self has been burned along with your broken body