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May 2016 · 768
Study Hall
If you saw me in the street today,
You wouldn't recognize me.
You'd see a woman whole,
A woman independent, harder.

If you walked down my street today,
I don't think that I'd know you.
I wouldn't see the boy I knew
From back when we would study.

When we studied happy endings,
I'd forgotten it was practice.
I forgot that we'd be young for years
And how we both were growing.

We learned a lot those days,
When we both grappled with rejection;
How to handle hurt and hate
And falling out of puppy love.

The girl I was thought that was it,
As silly as I was in school.
Remember what we said?
How we would move out in the snow?

It's funny, really, nowadays,
And look at us, both happy!
I never thought in high school
That we hadn't met our matches.

We were practicing for them,
And I just didn't realize at the time.
I think we practiced well back then,
I think we make them happy.
Quick write. I saw some of your photos, you look so happy! Keep it up, sailor. :)
Nov 2015 · 803
Fingertips
I wish I could believe
I'm falling for the man from Pakistan.
The only one I'm falling for is you.

I wish that it was true
I love the girl that likes the things I write.
The only one I write about is you.

And all my words are falling out
My fingertips,
My cracking lips
Old
Nov 2015 · 895
Bad advice
Maybe just another try;
He said he's sorry,
No need to say goodbye.
Bruises go away,
Not like you're gonna die.
It's just blood beneath your skin.
Worst advice I ever gave myself.
Nov 2015 · 683
Sprinklers
The sprinklers would wash away the guilt
And we would be whoever we wanted to be.
Found unfinished from a year ago and decided it was finished enough.
Sep 2015 · 882
Flashback
Growing up happened faster than I thought it would;
Now I pay bills and visit my parents.
I sleep in this recliner where I would stay up late,
Talking on the phone with liars until I fell asleep.
"Dulcet tones into a receiver," I called them before.
Now I know better.

My feelings aren't hurt anymore,
And now I've forgiven almost everything.
I'm too strong now for the backbiters of the past,
And they've grown into harmless strangers
Like we all do.

Sometimes when I hear that song,
I feel the hurt again, but that's all it is;
A feeling, fleeting, gone by the double bar line,
And I feel so much better.
I cry much more for happiness these days.

Growing up is happening so quickly,
And now I'm waiting in the recliner on an engagement
That will have the harmless strangers smiling politely.
Their feelings aren't hurt anymore
And we all know better now.
It's like clockwork.
Oct 2014 · 502
Don't Be a Hero
I'd look in your direction
If I was out at sea;
The furthest I am from you
Is the best I'll ever be.
I've got to see you coming
If you're out on your way,
And I'm sure you know I'm looking,
Scared I'll see you everyday.

I am a human being,
Not a hero like you.
I am a human being,
Not a hero like you think I am.

"Honey, sing to me
Or take my photo down.
I am so colorblind,
I feel so helpless now.
With all that water all around you,
Are you doing fine?
You must still need me,
You're still always on my mind."

I am a human being,
Not a hero like you.
I am a human being,
Not a hero like you think I am.

Don't ask me
Why you are the way you are.
I've just come to talk to you again
About whatever makes you happy.
May 2014 · 724
No souls
When I disappear,
And I can't see you
And you can't see me,
I don't know what I'll do.
No souls for me, no heavens.

When I die,
And I can't sleep in your arms
And you can't sleep in mine,
I don't know what I'll do.
No souls for me, no heavens.

When I was a child
And you were a child,
I wonder if we met
In the streets outside my grandfather's house.
I wonder if we played together and neither of us will ever remember.
And if I start to forget our stories from now,
I don't know what I'll do.
No souls for me, no heavens.

And if we start growing old
Like everybody else,
I don't know what I'll do.
No souls for me, no heavens.
I don't believe in souls, and I know that's a little sad.
May 2014 · 9.9k
Can't wait to meet you.
Baby ladybug, how I'll love you when we meet,
From your newly thinking head to your newly tapping feet.
How you'll fly out in the sunshine, pick a petal for your seat;
Lovely baby ladybug, how I will love you when we meet.
For my new baby niece, who's been on her way for several months and is almost here. I'm so excited to see you, sweet lady!
May 2014 · 2.6k
Angela S.
I didn't find the time in the months I was around you
To ever say, "Hello,"
Or learn your name.
Angela S.
I didn't know it until today.

I didn't know that you were thirty-six until I read the articles about you.
I knew that you were late to choir sometimes,
And you wore shorts even when it was cold.
I didn't know you lived in those apartments until the police were investigating them.
My sister lived so close to there.

I didn't find the time to know you,
Angela S.
But I found the time to judge you.
You stood between seconds and you were a first.
You didn't know your parts very well.
I was annoyed.
It's concert choir, no audition.
I shouldn't have been so bothered.
I'm sorry.

That was the last time I saw you.
I didn't know you had a son until after he found your body.
I knew next to nothing about you until you were shot.
We sang the same music for months.
A woman I've been singing alto with all term was murdered yesterday, and her little boy found her. Last week I was bothered that she sang the wrong line. Now she's dead.
I don't know how you do it,
How you're both so big and small.
I fell just as the leaves did;
I for you and them for Fall.

I've never given so much
And received much in return,
But you've turned that around;
Shown me that love is grown and earned.

Your breathing in the nighttime;
Your clock beside the bed;
Your sleeping speech of nonsense;
Your image in my head.

I don't know how you do it,
How you're both so big and small.
I fell just as the leaves did;
I for you and them for Fall.
May 2014 · 470
Recovery
Slowly, I'm recovering.
I'm out of rehab now;
I'll never touch the stuff again.
I think, though, that I'm a drug as well,
And that old addiction is still addicted to me.
I hope so.

I hope it recovers, but I want it to suffer.
I hope withdrawals are awful.
I hope it gets night sweats.
I hope it can't sleep.
I hope it cries when it remembers how I made it feel.
I hope it sees me and aches at how happy I am without it.

I hope detox is hell and then we never see each other again,
But I do hope it recovers.
Drugs are bad. Bad relationships are bad.
Mar 2014 · 357
You're getting nowhere.
I don't feel guilt.
I don't feel obligation.
I don't miss you,
And I don't care.
Definitely don't love you.
Feb 2014 · 1.4k
Good morning, good man.
Good morning, good morning, oh, darling of mine,
I hope you've been sleeping so soundly.
Each morning I'm thankful to heavens divine
That my heart's with yours and you found me.
Short, sweet poem for the man.
Jan 2014 · 532
Luminous Things
You gave me a marvelous ring on my finger,
You gave me a firefly jar
To tie to a branch and to light up the sky;
Show the world that small glory of ours.

My young stomach was sickened as yours was afloat,
And so heavied my hand did the ring,
And I cut through the brilliance by shutting my eyes,
But you cast at me luminous things.
Jan 2014 · 558
On your feet
Wishes that are left ungranted
Always will be one,
Past your calloused builder's hands
And whispers from your tongue.

This last wish arrested by
Our Kingdom Come and fade;
Different men have matching paths--
First cradle, then the grave.

Righteous living leads to dying--
Wrongful life, the same.
Men and suns and stars and saints
Are all by sleep contained.

My wish is for deathlessness
With you at home to greet.
Carry me to constancy
With talons on your feet.
I can't stop thinking about dying lately.
I can't stop thinking so loudly and being vulnerable tonight.
I can't get these worship songs out of my head and
I can't figure out why they make me want to cry.
I'm wondering why,
Since "holy" and "wholly" make the same sound,
They didn't use the former.
I can't stop being anxious and wanting and
Wishing I could believe in God,
And cringing over my childish range of reasons for that.
I can't stop thinking about all of Us ending up in the same "place",
And whether that should be happy or sad,
And how it isn't really a place at all.
I can't stop thinking about the idea that
I'm slowly becoming someone I've hated as much as I've loved,
And the parts I'm becoming are definitely the hated ones.
I can't get it out of my head,
The fact that even though manslaughter is an accident,
Somebody still ends up dead,
And how Cause and Effect means that
Everything is someone's fault,
And lots of faults are mine.
I can't stop thinking about how
"Sorry" and "sorrow" are linked.
I don't know if this is even a poem.
Nov 2013 · 657
Like beautiful little ants
There was a vacant lot in space,
And I was interested in that.
It was a little spendy,
But the view was incredible,
So I bought it out from under a man I didn't know.
I felt just a little bit bad.

I moved right up,
Set my belongings on the lawn.
I'd heard it would be cold, that empty lot in space,
But it wasn't so bad,
And the view was incredible.
I unpacked and organized my things on that lawn,
Made all of grass.
There was no house up there.

They asked me why I'd moved there,
To a houseless lot in space,
And I'd tell them two truths:
"I wanted to be a little more alone," I'd say,
"And I wanted to see everyone at once."
They countered with downsides,
With hunger, thirst, and love,
And they were right,
But the view was incredible,
And I couldn't leave that behind.

I was a little more alone,
And a little more cold and thin.
I was a little more tired,
And my empty lot in space was a square among circles,
Just like me.
But I looked down at my old house,
That shape where I used to live,
And I saw everyone at once,
Lit up by stars.
The view was incredible.
Nov 2013 · 785
I cna't poem anymore I
I cna't poem anymore I
think I broke me

My nouns aren;t verbing and
adverbly I:m gi
ving up
i thi
nk

I think i cna't poem anymore I
think I broke me
Experimental, a little. Playing with style.
Nov 2013 · 691
Mourning Dew
Every morning, mourning dew;
Oh, dry your eyes, my darling.
Stretch your arms and raise your wings,
My lovely little starling.

Turn from that that's harsh and wrong
And think of kinder things.
Smile now, my baby,
Who can fly with dampened wings?

Fill your head with joyous song
As you wake from your sleep,
And don't forget, but don't dwell, too,
On what has made you weep.

Every morning, mourning dew,
But dry it and fly far,
And please remember, darling,
You could dim the brilliant stars.

And don't forget, my baby,
What a precious joy you are.
A lullaby to sing when my babies are sad. When I have babies.
Sep 2013 · 815
The List'ning Chair
I sat there when the world was done,
Just as I had when it had just begun.
A pin drop now and then,
A pin drop here and there;
A pin drop can be heard from on my list'ning chair.

I heard them coming for him then;
An angry king and forty-thousand men.
I poised and reached to warn,
But nothing I declared.
If only mine was more than just a list'ning chair.

I've overheard the mighty fall,
And some may say that I have heard it all.
But nothing I have said;
At nothing I have stared--
No room for speech or sight atop my list'ning chair.

No creature have I touched,
No feeling have I shared--
No room for anything but sound atop my chair.
A thought about infinite knowledge with finite and very limited power.
Aug 2013 · 2.0k
Daryl Dixon
"Hello there," said I to the stranger beside,
"I'm Cari, and this is my boyfriend."
The stranger looked past, with some side-eye and sass,
And said, "You must be overjoyed, then."

I tilted my head to the side then and said,
"I am, we've decided to marry!"
The stranger just frowned and then said, his voice down,
"I was being sarcastic, he's scary."

I frowned then, in turn, and my boyfriend, face stern,
Said, "C'mon, babe," in dirtied apparel.
With his crossbow in hand he led me through the land,
Snuffing zombies and bandits-- oh, Daryl.
Another one dedicated to Norman Reedus.

I am so embarrassed about using "trash barrel" as a rhyme in the first draft.
Aug 2013 · 621
Texts from Casey.
If I was single, I'd be there in a wink.
You mean a whole lot more to me than you think.
We're just talking, this isn't so bad.
Cheer up, you're the best friend that I've ever had.

She broke up with me, I gotta go.
No, I can't talk, just thought you'd wanna know.
Please wake up now, I just need a friend.
You're better to me than the whole world has been.

How do you manage to do it?
You're a better friend than I deserve, and I know it.
I want to return that to you.
I hope you know that I'll always be there for you, too.

When I'm ready, we'll go on a date.
I wanna be with you, too, but I need you to wait.
I'm so glad that we're talking again.
I wanna be with you, sunshine, and not as your friend.

When school's over, I'm buying a bus.
We'll fix it up into a home just for us.
We'll live up there in Canada's wild.
We'll just go 'til there aren't any people for miles.

Meet me outside, I'll be there in ten.
No, I don't have permission, we'll talk it through then.
I like everything about you.
I don't want to, no, but I'll do it for you.

Why are you so mad, what did you hear?
I only want you now, I thought that was clear.
I've got class, I'll talk to you after.
Yeah, I like her, but it's just a crush, does it matter?

I want to spend more time with you.
I'm always at work, what am I supposed to do?
What do you mean, "Over," why?
Okay. Uh huh. Sure. Yeah, whatever, goodbye.
The downward spiral of my sort of relationship, detailed in text messages received from him throughout the months. Some are slightly altered to fit, although the rhythm still isn't great. Might edit later.

... I don't know if you still read these, you. :/
Aug 2013 · 417
I meant them.
That's enough.

All the words from before,
Though they all were sincere,
My young heart will begin to rebuff.

I have no one to blame
But myself when I'm sore,
And it's not like it came off the cuff.

I said I'd take them down
And just throw them away,
But look now, I've been called on my bluff.

I don't want them forgotten,
And yet, yes I do.
But I meant them, and now that's enough.
Jul 2013 · 470
It happened
I waited so long for that kiss, for those kisses.
I'd thought it was coming so many times.
I wanted to do it myself, but I didn't--
No, it had to be him,
And it had to be right.

So with the sun sinking away
And the dirt and sweat on our bodies
And the mosquitoes quietly stealing from us,
It happened,
Once, and again, and again,
But never enough.

His fingers tracing down to the small of my back
And my arms lacing around his neck
With his back in the dirt
And my chest against his
And our words floating quietly as whispers.
It happened.

And nothing had ever been more right.
Jun 2013 · 624
Someday, you.
I wish that somebody around here would ask questions.
I wish someone would demand that they be heard.
They'd ask you, "What are your intentions with my daughter?
Are you making her life better, son, or worse?"

And I wish your father'd stayed around to meet you.
I wish he'd taught you how to treat a lady right.
I wish he'd shown you how to love and understand me,
And give me peace of mind so I could sleep at night.

And if you fathered my son, would you stay to meet him?
Would you teach him how to treat a lady right?
Would you show him how to love and understand her,
And give her peace of mind so she could sleep at night?

Or would he have to wonder what his father looked like,
And would he look up to his uncles for advice?
Would he feel the need to grow into a cold man,
And would he never hear your voice in all his life?

But my father is a good man, and I love him.
I hope someday you'll be a good man, too,
Because I never have loved anybody better
Or wanted anyone like I want you.

I wish your father could've been just like mine
And helped you grow instead of walking out.
I wish that he had grown up and then stayed at home with you,
And taught you more than how to leave and doubt.
My reasons are selfish, but at least I know that much.
May 2013 · 870
Six cans of Mountain Dew
Swirls of green and peach adorn me.
Bubbles tickle at my lips.
Nectar purchased near absorbs me.
Where did you learn to do this?

Superficial little beverage--
Undercover influence.
On our mouths and used for leverage--
Well, we've never made much sense.

Four lips searching sugared contact,
Be it from a can or kiss.
Stretched between our every callback
Lay a smile or a sip.

I can't think what you would taste like
Without citrus as pretense.
Sweetened drinking was our limelight--
No, we never will make sense.
Who cares, making sense is for other people. :)
May 2013 · 1.0k
Annie, listen up.
I hope you've had sweet dreams the past five years;
I know I have.
I wish I looked more like you, talked more like you, was more like you.
Then I could at least feel like you were real
And luck was kinder.
It's been so long since I've known what to do, or how to.

I haven't ever written much about you,
For, or to you;
Too many words I just can't say.
I can't believe how much you haven't seen--
I've outgrown mom now.
I graduate in twenty days.

You never saw the baby born,
Or mama sick from chemo.
She's never been the same since you, and I need all your strength.
Just so you know, the whole world thinks you're a hero.
I've never seen so many people cry within a hall's length.

I wish you'd seen me sing, I wish you could be in my wedding.
A sister's such an awful thing to lose.
I always tell you so much, I just wish that you could answer.
No friend or pen can fill your shoes.

I miss our arguments and PC games and secret missions--
About the fire: I told mom.
And by the way, I've never smoked in my life, and I won't.
A promise is a promise, even if you're gone.
I miss you so much. I hope Jason Wade isn't married wherever you are. I just wish I could have you back.
May 2013 · 844
And my wings ached
Every night was the same
With the waking and flying away,
And the sky was cold and too loud,
And I didn't want to be there,
But what could I do?
I cried as I reluctantly soared
And I covered my ears from the violent tattooing of the passing air
And my wings ached as my body froze--
All to look over a jaded paramour,
To check;
To ease my mind so that in the daylight I could stay,
And as I hurdled between stars and clouds I silently wondered if the objective was worth it, or valid at all--
But I couldn't ask that of myself
Because I couldn't answer it.
May 2013 · 659
Like mine.
Doe-eyed spacemen left behind--
But no one knows a life like mine.
And shared wavelengths are hard to find;
Nobody knows a life like mine.

Forgetting and forsaking time--
No, no one knows a life like mine.
I have no match and no one rhymes;
Nobody knows a life like mine.

The shipwrecked lovers start to climb,
But they don't know a life like mine.
I am forsaken and I'm fine;
Nobody knows a life like mine.
It's not true, but it can feel that way.
May 2013 · 602
Per your request.
Discretion (a gift and a curse as of late)
Has granted affections to cling to my mind.
"Precaution," is hardly correct, I'd debate;
"Postcaution," is true as a term I can find.

Historic endeavors don't have to repeat,
Lest heroes and humor are all stricken dead--
The long road to victory's paved with defeat,
But breakdowns can't stop us from looking ahead;

Ahead to the sweet things, the smiles with teeth
And the gentle detainments with fractions of might--
To watching The Saints and then lying beneath
All the stars when they cut through the blue with their light.

And these skid marks we've left on the road, near behind,
Will only be seen 'til we drive far away,
And I'd like you to know, if you feel so inclined,
That I'm glad for the privilege to see you each day.
May 2013 · 2.7k
On pressure
Pressure isn't always harsh.
It doesn't have to be the grim and guttural.
It isn't always in regard to the coarse.
There's the soft kind, sweet.
The gentle pressure of lips against a collar bone.
Fingertips tracing freckles,
Valves working at elevated speeds.
Pressure needn't be a villain.
It can be a tender confession by means of softly spoken words.
Poignant colloquy put down with clean intentions,
The hum at night of dulcet tones into a receiver.
Mellow pressures on the heart and mind are pressures, too.
The pressure of eyes directed toward skin,
A foot on a gas pedal.
The pressure caused by closing distance.

Pressure me.
May 2013 · 738
In Slow Receipt
The miracle that had occurred
At witness of his written word
Sent scatt'ring all her plans and all her sense.

A spectator, I watched her fall
In love after his curtain call,
As well as falling victim to pretense.

Her chest would rise and sink for him,
His words, to her, a sanguine hymn
For her to follow, live by, and to serve.

And I looked on in slow receipt
As he made dismal she once sweet,
And she believed 'twas all that she deserved.
May 2013 · 2.8k
Cause of Death
And the cyclist said to the seafaring man that it was the best **** poison he had ever drank.
The seafaring man was uneasy, wishing that the cyclist would put the bottle down.
He had cautioned his friend in the past--
"Poison will **** you, you know. That's the very purpose of the stuff."
-- And the cyclist's reply had always been the same:
"Well, I've had two swigs, and it hasn't killed me yet."
Then three swigs, four, five....
"Yes," the seafaring man would press,
"But it makes you horribly sick every time. You've told me so."
The cyclist would give a peculiar look and say in a peculiar voice,
"I know what I'm getting in to. And it hasn't killed me yet."
Months later, the seafaring man left the cyclist's funeral either sad or disappointed.
He wondered if the death went down as an accident or a suicide.
And now I want to throw myself down.
I want to feel the ground beneath my knees and heaven's glow upon my upturned cheeks.
I want grateful tears to swell from my closed eyes,
Because I can't contain it all; I know I'd burst in an attempt.
I want to feel every word of every lover's ode wash over me;
I want to feel you all around me,
Ceaselessly, without end.
I want to always know you're there.
Experience, not age, limits the abilities of the heart and mind,
And I believe that you and I have experience beyond our years.
We can join the ranks of the young who ask, "What do they know?"
We can turn ourselves into a couple of clichés, loving through adolescence and promising our forevers away,
And I'd be content being typical if it was for you.
Apr 2013 · 554
The Canadian Wild
I have a bag packed, just in case,
So I can be ready at a moment's notice to catch a bus out of here,
Headed northward on to nothing.
I'll be the only passenger, he'll be the only driver,
And it'll be a kind of solitude for us both.
Too far within the trees for loneliness
And too deep beneath the snow for societal woes.
We'll do one another the kindness of not breaking the silence;
A driver and a passenger, content in the Canadian Wild.
Apr 2013 · 436
One long day
I can't remember exactly when the world ended;
I died alongside my fellow heathens.
Our memories are fuzzy.
Some of us swear to recall the flash.
Some say they remember the fires that burned us,
The waters that drowned us,
Or the winds that blew us all away.
Some further say we're still alive,
But that can't be true, can it?
I don't remember anything about it myself.
I remember things from right before.
Or, at least they feel like they were right before.
There could have been months in between, years even,
But I remember the face of a boy,
And his name,
And remembering him makes me feel like I never died at all.
I don't know what happened to him--
Whether he lived or died.
All I know is that he's not where we are.
I miss him a lot,
Especially since eternity feels like one long day.
The true apocalypse is a lonely apocalypse.
Apr 2013 · 487
Behind us. (Thank you.)
You know who you are.
I'm not going to say it.

First of all, I'm full of clichés and apologies.
Forgive me later; the rest is more important.

I wish I could tell you aloud the things I've told you while you slept.
It comes in bursts, which you trigger, and lately I miss you even when you're next to me.
Because when you're next to me, you're not yourself.
You're not ready, or not alone.
You can be cruel.

But I know you better.
You've told me a thousand times, I know you best.
I know the broken pieces, locked away and swept under rugs.
I searched until you showed me.

And it's not a pretty picture, not all of it.
I've loved you despite yourself.

And you-- you know me, too.
You're the only one who knows it all, because you've been there for so much of it so far.
And the rest, I've shown you.
And you're the only one.

You're the only one who's seen nearly so much-- my broken pieces locked away and swept under rugs-- and has ever come back for more.
You're the only one who's done this outside the boundaries of friendship, although that's where we're standing now.

And you're the only one who's loved me despite myself.
And not because you had to.
When you see this, you, don't wig out. Don't make a big deal out of it. It's just a poem, and sometimes in poems, words work away from intentions. This isn't a plea or a confession. More than anything, it's a thank you.

Please don't make me regret this.
Apr 2013 · 604
On The Floor
A messy life together could be okay,
Could be happy.
We could wear our shoes on carpets,
Leave rings with our coffee.
The dishes could pile up,
We could neglect to fold our laundry.
I could forget to cap the toothpaste,
You'd leave your jacket on the floor.
I am okay, if you're okay,
With coffee rings and carpet stains,
So let's enjoy our stay.
Rules are broken, messes made.
My mother would say I already live this way.
Mar 2013 · 420
Someone, once.
I loved someone, once.

A person tall and thick with thought,
Whose reach was wider than a mile;
Whose words were low and filled to brims
And ordered my whims single file;

Whose eyes made blood flush under cheeks
And wandered nary from my own;
Whose air was just enough to bind;
Whose arms were heavy as a stone;

Whose breath on me could wear me down
And raise me up to live anew;
Whose presence haunted my mind's halls;
Whose love was too good to be true--

And it was.

Somewhere along the way,
I realized that that person didn't exist.

He never had.
Mar 2013 · 877
Unswept Streets
Before too long I'm gonna go away.
I'll walk the unswept streets and the humid heats
In the uncleaned city of L.A.
There are things I'm sure I'll break as I make my way;
Laws and promises, hearts and confidences--
That's the sad way we work today.

My heart'll find its home out in the West,
In the form of a man who will enclose my hands,
And he'll spill all his words out and digress.
We'll have four children, then never get our rest,
And we'll apologize when they finally find out that
Mothers do not always know best.

The sun will stain our skin,
And then illness can take us, our treatments will break us,
And we might not ever be whole again.
Then we'll never know
If there will always be borders and pain and disorders
And longing and fences to slip below.

Our children will grow old after we die,
While we sleep in the ground with our roots all around
Or our ashes will wade through the deep sky,
And they will miss our lives, and so will I,
But they'll think of when we walked the unswept streets
And we tucked in their sheets
And they'll smile while they cry.
Feb 2013 · 496
These Feels
I've never heard anything as true as what you have to say.
I've got these Feels, and I'm finding they're blinding me,
And all these Feels are linking back to you.
Feb 2013 · 385
No Longer True
You're my very own connotation for divinity.
More importantly, you're my very own.
Words can only say so much.
Feb 2013 · 493
Maybe
Maybe when we are older
It won't be quite as hard
To get our acts together,
Pay for our bills and cars.

Maybe I'll treat you better
And you can give me more,
And we can be together
And not just be adored.

Maybe when school is over
And we don't live so far,
Then we can try again
And I won't have to wonder where you are.

But until then, I'm finished;
I need consistency.
I'm worth the time you'd wait,
But Maybe's all you've ever given me.
He's not even going to see this.
Jan 2013 · 829
Treasure.
The four companions searched for their treasure.
They found the chest hidden under some sadness and opened it up.

The first one looked in eagerly and was surprised;
He could only see the second.
The second looked and saw the first.
Their treasures found, they left.

I looked in and saw consistency.
With my treasure, I hung behind to see my beloved's turn.

The fourth peered in and found a secret,
And maybe, with a sinking heart, I don't have my treasure after all.
Maybe it wasn't what I was looking for.
Jan 2013 · 557
Dream Journal, 1/25/13
The house we drove to on a dare
Was smoking from outside.
The walls forbade our entrance,
But within, an infant cried.

Searching for the howling babe,
We overturned his home--
At least, that's what it once had been
Before the flames had grown.

We found a pool of furniture,
The burnt upholstery maimed,
And then a table filled up
By a family aflame.

We found the infant's parents there,
His older siblings, too.
Quite calm, his sister looked to us:
"I'll burn the both of you."
Amy and I adventure into a long-burnt-down house on a dare-- and to rescue the crying baby inside.
Jan 2013 · 460
God only knows.
A yard, a porch, a floor, walls, and roof,
All sewn together with me and with you.
Fireplace stoked and the dog on the mat,
People peer in our windows to see.

Soon I'll show you how to cook chicken soup
And you'll help teach all of our kids how to sing,
And before long they'll think that they know everything,
But we'll laugh softly through.

God only knows what I see when I see us.
God only knows just how much I can feel.
Tree swings and strollers, some green grass and you--
God only knows how I want them.
I want to feel this way about someone someday.
Jan 2013 · 472
Breaks Me.
It's a lifeline consisting of a single thread.
It's walking through the plague with a surgical mask.
It's five months down the donor list.
It's an experimental procedure at one year to live.
It's a mother praying she'll have as many children when she's fifty.

It's a kinder desperation, a nicer word.

Hope isn't a hero, as it's made out to be.
It's devastating.
Jan 2013 · 942
Mean Haiku
Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam,
Hahaha, you ****, loser.
Stop hitting yourself!

You're such a ****.
I am gonna kick your ***.
Jesus, what a ***.

You're an ugly *****.
No one loves you-- why would they?
Just go **** yourself.

... Seriously, guys,
Bullying is not a joke.
Stand up for people.
Bullying isn't a huge problem where I come from, but it really bothers me when I do see it. To me, this is what it looks like. It might not be much at first, it might even look innocent, but it can get really bad really fast. I'd love for it not to happen anymore.
Jan 2013 · 1.4k
Friend
Keep yourself from the rest of the world
If that's what keeps you sane,
But I hope you'll always speak your mind to me.

I don't think you know you matter,
And I know sometimes it's hard to believe,
But I hope you know you've always mattered to me.

You're rough and full of unkempt thoughts
And those are often unappreciated,
But I hope I'll always get to hear them.

Your mind must be heavy--
So heavy,
And I hope you'll let me help carry it.
I don't know if you'll see this or if it'll help, but I hope you do and it does. Love you, friend.
Jan 2013 · 629
Crinkle-Face
I would greatly appreciate the kindness
Of not giving me that smug look,
As if my bad days have anything to do with you.
As if I give the smallest care about who you're with or what you'll do.

The only thing that bothers me
Is your arrogant, ignorant, crinkled, smug face.
So please, point it in some other direction.
Thank you kindly.
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