you didn't care to read my poetry
you didn't care to know my favorite song
or know my favorite book

you didn't care to know anything about me at all
except my face
my lips
and my body

all you wanted was physical affection,
no mental connection

that's precisely why I chose to leave

I couldn't walk past the coffee shop we visited
and walk through the isles of our local bookstore
without your name screeching through my head
like acrylic nails on a chalk board

I thought i'd never heal
I thought i'd never forget
but now it's been a full year

and I couldn't remember that your favorite artist was Bon Jovi
and you smelled of shaving cream
and you hated the taste of coffee because it was bitter (similar to you)
and I almost forgot about your stretch marks that were a terrible insecurity, even though you're a boy.
I almost forgot about that Coldplay song, Strawberry Swing.
I almost forgot that your favorite color is green,
and you had an undying relationship with music,
which was always in your ear.

all these things used to cause me to cringe
until the day i forgot them,
and they came back,
but now you're forgiven and i'm almost completely healed.

you're the wound that caused
terrible bleeding and an itching scab
that I would peel off and cry about
but in the end you left a wonderful scar
that will bring back good memories

you're forgiven

Summertime last year
I remember nothing but rain
nothing but tears
nothing but shame

headaches
long winded text messages
and tantrums of pain

I learned that out of every terrible situation
comes that silver lining
that the wise folks talked about

poetry came flowing into my veins
my words began to create something
that was definitely better than what I could ever say

poetry began writing about heartbreak and suffering
those cliche poems of being angered with that one boy
the basic writes of "drowning" and "falling"

but poetry nursed my pain
poetry opened my eyes
cracked open my brain

into another world,
another way of thinking
into something i enjoyed at every hour of every day

I began to feel free
unconfined and confident
talented and useful

soon flowers bloomed
the rain cleared up
the clouds moved out

I began to write about the beauty in life
the beauty all around
the things people miss
the metaphors people never realized

poetry and poets have nurtured my brain
your beauty radiates throughout the world and my life
and shines through me everyday.

I didn't know what tulips looked like when they bloomed
until the day I held some in my vase
and when they bloomed, to me they became a whole new flower
and as they became a new flower I did too

I had never laid in bed to hear the raindrops
because in years past I would run to the safety of my parents bedroom
until the day I decided to stay and watch and listen with my father
in silence that became comfortable like never before

I had never thought that I was beautiful
until I sat in silence doing nothing
and my sister turned and told me I was pretty
and my mother told me I had a beautiful mind
and boys started talking to me more than before

I had never walked barefoot in the grass
because of the bugs that crawled and worms that swarmed
until the night we laid out in the grass in the dark
and exited my comfort zone
as I kicked off my shoes like I kicked off my burdens
and I ran up and down the hill, oozing with laughter and happiness
and I watched a beautiful boy roll down the hill with no care in the world

these are the moments I live for
not the moments of buying new things
or getting a successful grade
or impressing my parents.

I lived for the beauty of nature
for the blooming of tulips
for the crying of the clouds
for the beauty in the mind
for the comfort of grass
and careless, beautiful people.

Claude Debussy plays gracefully
a dog wrapped in a blanket
starring out the window
as if seeing an angel

hot coffee lingers on my tongue
taste-buds reminiscing the bitter-sweetness

wind rustles the ficus bushes
slight noises in the distance

I feel calm
I have never felt calm before

is this what peace feels like?

everything is going to be okay.

the dictionary definition states
beauty is a combination of qualities
that pleases the sight

who said beauty was something so materialistic?
who put the seal on beauty being an image?

and how absurd is it that
a curve of the body
or a shape of lips
would be what determines
if you have a man
Attached to your hips?

and why is beauty restricted to sight?
because I've seen beauty in movement and walks
I've heard beauty in the way someone speaks
and I've witnessed beauty in someones words,
in someones actions, in someones works

beauty was seen before
when someone had talent
when someone had dedication
when someone had a heart

but now that has faded
like old ink on yellow brittle paper
and all that is left
of beauty is superficial

if beauty was a woman or a god
she would cry at night
sad she cant be seen in certain places anymore
and she would feel guilty for the fact that she's ruined
so many young girls lives because they cry to be
"beautiful" every single day

beauty would rage and wish she could be seen
in places she used to be
she would be angry at the fact
that she's closed up in a box,
a box of opinions and standards
of who she is

most of all
she would wish to whisper to those girls
that they are beautiful
and beg to have a chance to
open up blind humanity's eyes