I have a rainbow for a mind.
The colors are there, always in the corner of my vision and since they won’t crumble and go away I’ve decided to accept them.
It isn’t always easy.
When the boy from physics yells my name it is navy blue.
And when he runs down the hall after me the sound his shoes make is orange, orange in short staccato bursts.
And then he punches me, hits me, teases me for something I can’t control and all I see is the sound of his fists beating against my skin.
Red, red, blinding red.
And the noise grows and the colors come at me in all directions.
Red, orange, yellow, green, indigo, violet.
Red, orange, yellow, green, indigo, violet.
And suddenly I can’t take it anymore so I squint my eyes shut as hard as I possibly can and I scream.
(My scream is periwinkle. It has always been my favorite color.)
…
I have never once seen a black and white movie.
All my dreams are in color and my memories are too.
I see colors when I’m talking on the phone, listening to the radio, sitting in the corner of my room where it is just loud enough to see the sound of the air conditioner, making itself known with little beige waves.
All my life has been red swirling with yellow swirling with pink swirling with blue swirling with purple.
I have a rainbow for a mind.

Floors frigid like ice
against my bare legs. I count
ten speckles per tile

At least one-hundred
tiles per stall but it’s hard
enough to focus.

Paper rolled in *****
that can’t seem to hold their shape
Unraveling.

Lead scraped against stone
making everything dull gray.
Names scribbled over.

The lock screams as it
slides to the right of the door.
Seemingly mocking.

Three large, cracked mirrors
stare unyieldingly through me.
Five minutes ‘till class.

How embarrassing it is to be human.
Always failing,
faking,
flailing,
falling
never once realizing the power vested in our souls.
We are like elephants, arguably the biggest and strongest creatures in the animal kingdom.
Yet until we learn to harness our capabilities,
we will always be scared of a mouse.

I can see your hand as it reaches towards me
Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly
(I should have known you would be just as timid as I am)
I count your fingers as they make their presence known against my back.
One, two, three, four, five
Each one a little dewdrop of warmth
Making that small section of my back almost as warm as my blushing face
Your thumb starts moving in lazy circles
Light, so very light
So gently that I am not even sure if you are touching my skin,
perhaps just the small bubble of air around it -
Either way it feels electric
You are a current
And I know I am at risk of being electrocuted
But you are making my hair stand on end
Physically you are touching my back but in my mind it feels more like you are touching my heart
Shocking me again and again and again
I never want to get used to this feeling

A brain and a soul.
Just a brain and a soul.
A brain and a soul,
and a big gaping hole.

A brain and a soul,
and the weight of the world.
Can a brain and a soul
ever act in accord?

A brain and a soul,
both happy and sad.
My brain and my soul,
feel both good things and bad.

A brain and a soul,
learning more everyday.
The brain and the soul,
slowly paving a way.

A brain and a soul,
expectations on lock.
Fearful brain and a soul,
angst running amok.

A brain and a soul,
what could be more true?
With a brain and a soul,
panic often ensues.

A brain and a soul.
Just a brain and a soul.
A brain and a soul,
and a big gaping hole.

She was small. So very small.
A girl afraid of being too large,
crushed by the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She was complicated. Oh so complicated.
Both happy and sad and trying to figure out why,
in love with the feelings that come with being alive.

She was nervous. Horribly, horribly nervous.
The crushing anxiety often too much to bear,
causing her to curl up into a ball of fear, sometimes too scared to breathe.

She was a lover. One of life’s many lovers.
Deeply fascinated by every human heart,
a bookworm because she loved the way words resonated with her soul.

She was small. So very, very small.

...

But through writing she could make herself LARGE.

they say you have to have courage to be an artist
I say I’m working on it
there is a door inside of my heart
and it is bulging outward in the middle
I'd be lying if I said it wasn’t full of light
but so much light is a little bit scary
I’m not so sure what i’m afraid of,
but as many times as my mind has argued that
fear is irrational, my heart has always managed to
fight back and win
Not today
Today I am going to turn that doorknob ⅛ of an inch
and tomorrow I am going to turn it ⅛ of an inch more
One day soon, I am going to be radiant

sometimes I think I’m not fit to be a human being
I just can’t seem to handle everyday life
I’m drowning in more stress than I know how to deal with
stress that is only amplified by my own mind
I’m breaking up, breaking down, breaking apart
shattering like glass hit by a hammer
a hammer made of a suffocating workload
a hammer made of crippling anxiety
a hammer made of ever-present loneliness
I’m just trying to make it through each day
despite the shards of glass in my wake

who knew being human could be this hard

I may not ever win the lottery,
or even raffles at football games.
I could go the rest of my life without ever winning a game of chance,
consistently losing cards, money, and dignity.
Yet my lack of superficial fortune will never phase me,
for as long as I’m with you
I am the luckiest person alive.

I crave human interaction
I want deep connections with anybody, everybody
human beings are the most beautiful things
I will ever see in my lifetime
all so carefully unique and unbelieveably complicated
I'm greedy to know human souls

there are just so many stories
so many mindsets
so many ideas to be discovered

I'm not a fan of small talk
never have been, really
I'm a fan of kindness
I'm a fan of closeness
I'm a fan of the way people mindlessly doodle while on the phone

I want to both observe humans and know them all at the same time

maybe I'm crazy
maybe we all are
maybe human is synonymous with beautiful

do you remember when we went hiking?
we got to the top of the mountain and looked down at the lake
you held me close and told me this:
"you are my favorite person and this is my favorite view"

do you remember when we went stargazing?
it was late at night and your hands were warm against mine
I looked at the sky and it was so beautiful
but not as beautiful as you

you are my favorite person and you are my favorite view

I am a speck in the ocean
And there is a wave of happiness crashing over me again and again and again
Sweep me away to the middle of the sea
I wanna get lost in this beautiful, beautiful, beautiful life

For there is far too much beauty in this world
And far too few words
To ever fully grasp
Just how wonderful this life can be

Sweep me away to the middle of the sea
I don't ever want to go back to shore

Look at me. It's 12:04 am and I'm excited. I have this excited energy running through me. I'm exhausted and I'm tired and I'm excited. And I want to talk to you. I want us to have a deep conversation. I want to share my adventurous feeling with you. I want to fall in love. I want us to be so tired our conversations turn into strings of nothing. It's 12:04 am, I'm awake, I'm excited, and I'm thinking of you.
(But of course you're asleep)

I laid on the bridge and looked up at the stars
Reached out my hand thinking I could touch mars
This is what poems are made of

A small glance at you with a grin in return
Stomach butterflies and a heart that can yearn
This is what poems are made of

On a swing with my friends under a never-ending sky
Jumping and wishing my body could fly
This is what poems are made of

Reading a book that makes me glad I can feel
Ink on a page can seem so much more real
This is what poems are made of

Riding in a car with the windows rolled down
A song on the radio, cruising through town
This is what poems are made of

A smile, a sob, a laugh and a grin
A story, a memory, two good deeds and one sin
This is what poems are made of

Yes,
This is what poems are made of

You're going to end up in a car with the star of the football team with no idea what to say to him
You're going to run down a hill in a flowing skirt and feel like a model
You're going to wake up with cramps and a broken heart and want to stay in bed for eternity
You're going to have an inside joke with your locker neighbor and realize he's not such a bad guy
You're going to write so many papers that you have a little indention in your finger from holding the pencil
You're going to stumble across that old love letter you got in 5th grade and nostalgia will flood your mind
You're going to square dance in the middle of a city with your best friend
You're going to sing at the top of your lungs going down the interstate
You're going to laugh until you cry
And you're going to realize that yes, life is beautiful; and yes, life is sad; but more than anything, life sure is weird

There's a girl who laughs the color of the full moon
She crinkles her eyes as a smile spreads over her face
Stretching like leather on an canvas

There's a girl who cries the color of an unripe blackberry
She watches sad movies and chokes back tears
Letting the salt water tell her to breathe

There's a girl who dreams the color of old lace
She flips through an old photo album
And imagines her future through the fading memories of the past

There's a girl who sings the color of your favorite t-shirt
She lets her voice be drowned out by the radio
The wind whipping through her hair on a Sunday afternoon

Then there is a girl who is nothing

And I don't know which one matters more

I'm from Sister Shubert's rolls and homemade chicken and dumplings
From bowling late on Thanksgiving night to trying to be the first one to find the pickle in the Christmas tree

I'm from the smell of my mom's famous pies (pecan, chocolate peanut butter and Kentucky derby fresh from the oven)
From "Sweet Caroline" and "Oh Happy Day"

I'm from the macaroni and cheese I never realized was good
From "Dance with the cow in a patch of clover" and puzzles on Nana's steps

I'm from Rook parallel to the bathtub
From my three favorite windows in the whole house and crazy surprises in my lunchbox

I'm from reading dad's sermons over his shoulder early on Sunday mornings
From lightning bugs and fried okra to the quote board and pickle pancakes

I'm from biscuits with honey for breakfast every Saturday
From McDonald's delicious chocolate birthday cakes

I'm from ***** feet and a pitch black washcloth
And that's the only way I'd want it

an old soul,
a little crinkled on the edges
covered in the musty scent of a grandmothers attic,
tainted with memories of what has been
and what is yet to be
a free spirit,
drawn by the tug of
the wind
and the water
and the waves beating upon the shore
time and time again
wanting to go
explore
discover
live
the soul fights back a weary sigh
isn't there something better to be doing?
and after all
won't the tide be gone
in just a couple of days?
the slow hiss of air from a deflating balloon
another dream is drowned in maybes
washed away like a finger smudge scrubbed off a window on cleaning day
a constant tug of war
waging on and on
an old soul
a free spirit
a restless heart

we'll face the world
a pair of two
you with me
and me with you

you'll hold my hand
I'll kiss your cheek
together strong
together weak

come make me laugh
I'll make you grin
we'll never feel
alone again

standing together
side by side
our souls will never
have to hide

we'll face the world
a pair of two
you with me
and me with you

a "yes", a "no", a "maybe so"
a "can't decide", an "I don't know"
decisions everywhere I go
a "yes", a "no", a "maybe so"

a "what", a "why", a "let me be"
please oh please just don't ask me
problems and worries are all I see
a "what", a "why", a "let me be"

a "yes", a "no", a "maybe so"
a "can't decide", an "I don't know"
decisions everywhere I go
one more and I think I'll blow

I'm not quite sure
what is happening
and I'm not quite sure
what to do
all I know
is that you've got me writing love poems
and they happen to be
all about
you