Do any of y'all really know me?
Can you see who I am from my poetry?
If your answer is yes, you're wrong
Even I don't know where I belong
When people ask who I am
I say I'm 26, a mother, a poet,
I basically just read my bio
But you've all read that too
Does that mean you really know?
A friend told me lately
To stop being so humble about my poetry
I don't like to come off sounding cocky
He says I'm **** good at what I do
But not every poem is about you
Not every word is always true
Sometimes, they're just words written in ink
To give you an idea, to really make you think....  
But my poetry doesn't define me
Doesn't show you who I am inside
Sure, you've read about my heartaches
And all the nights I've cried
But nothing I write,
Can show you the inner workings of my mind
So, please don't think you really know me
Based solely on all my posted poetry
Because, to be honest, I'm not even sure who I am
And I know me, better than all of you
But please continue to read and comment
Because I'd love to know the truth
About what you all really think of me
Honestly, y'all have really helped me through

I keep digging and digging and digging,
     trying to dig myself out of this hole
But it seems everything is collapsing around me
      burying me with my soul.
      This small shovel
  just doesn't seem to be enough,
     No one thought to tell me
         how life could be this rough
Now,
    I'm just getting deeper and deeper
        and deeper
    with my unwanted thoughts
This shall be my grave,
        but don't put any roses on top,
      I prefer **forget-me-nots

A Tongue to kiss a Special Person.
A Tongue to Hiss a bad performance.
A Tongue to lie, to those you love
A Tongue to Shout to the sky above.

A Tongue to twist Promised words
A Tongue to console those who deserve.
A Tongue to quote a campaign speech
A Tongue for Temper tantrums screech.

A Tongue to lick a juicy peach
A Tongue to taste a vintage wine.
A Tongue to Laude a Life so Full
A Tongue to lick a fudgecycle

A Tongue to please something bare
A Tongue to lick a nice spot there .
A Tongue to pray to heaven above.
A Tongue to softly Speak of Love.....JMF 10/24/2014

Life would be so better
If it wasn't imbued with Antipathy
Some moments I awake
Not even knowing why
Full of Self Doubting Apathy
It may as well be Antipathy

Days move past me
Like products on an assembly line
Each one in its time
Here and gone in the blink of an eye
Not even knowing why

Its easy to see
Life flows around me,
But not through me.
As though I am cast in paler light
And seem to all removed from sight
Not even knowing why

Graven upon the Stone
It will say with antipathy
Here I lie, not even knowing why

Bookworm how I envy you
you live and ingest the written word
You have been around many volumes of knowledge
Taking it all in adsorbing it all
Living through those words and living because of them
Do you have a favorite type of book?
You may have even seen some famous authors
If you could write you would already know, many words
If I could let the words all sink in as well as you
I could be a remarkable student that is why I envy you
Should I be a bookworm too?

you saw sadness,
and you never noticed the pain.

you heard the thunder,
and ignored the rain.

but yet you wonder,
just why you dug my grave.

you saw, my dear.

but you cannot see.

What's the point anymore
The depression is too strong and I am too weak
I can feel it clawing at my soul
Breaking my bones turning me into jelly
I can hear its whispers in my ears
Telling the rest of my body to just ******* give
What's the point anymore
My blood has already blackened
And eyes have already dried from the nonstop crying
My head aches and my heart is non-existent
I just need a respite from the ******* called life
Only I wish it would be permanent
No more tightropes, afraid I may fall 30 stories to my death
Not that it would be a bad thing to begin with
Funny I say I hate life so much but I'm terrified of death
Maybe a part of me wants to live
Forcing me to second guess every move I make
Only making it that much worse
What's the point anymore
Maybe there is one and I just can't see it
Maybe it's not just my left eye that is blind
Maybe it is me as a whole
And death isn't the answer I seek
Maybe just maybe I'll see

but it happened
and as i lay listening to your breaths
your words flow in my hear
i don't hear
with each ****** of mistaken passion
i look up at the stars on a night so cold
you said it was bound to occur
and so i stare into the mirror afterwards
not knowing who she is anymore
the lines in her face are obscured
clothing myself in guilt
inside i have already been crying
she's looking back at me
and i'll be ******

she is smiling