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

I am a tree.
a tree goes through season of blooming
(and seasons of death where leaves fall off from sadness)
a tree is deeply rooted and steady
but winds can sway its branches.
and tree has delicate flowers that are frail
and need to be taken care of
a tree stands there and doesn't scream for attention.
people often don't appreciate the beauty of trees
but some special people that don't come around often
appreciate the tree and its flowers, its dying leaves, and imperfections

most of all a tree isn't perfect

I am rotting
every leaf ungracefully falling
used my branch for temporary support

I won't make the leaves stay
they've lost all their chlorophyll
they were causing unnecessary weight

I know its winter
its been winter for the past few years
I cant keep every leaf
but so many are falling off

I'm staying alive
because with every leaf that falls
winter is closer to an end
and spring comes nearer

*flowers will bloom

I am blue
blue comes in all shades
and so do I

pastel blue, small and quiet, almost unnoticed
electric blue, loud and bright, daring
turquoise, brilliant and fun, liked by some
cobalt blue, modern and simple, unique
regular blue, unappreciated and common, nothing special
navy blue, dark and mysterious, often sad

I am every shade of blue, at one time or another
but underlying all these shades
blue will always be sad

you are a tree
trees are so utterly unique and shaken by the wind
yet strong and rooted

trees do rot
but before that comes
millions of seasons

winter, where you are dying and everything seems to fall apart,
and your tears shed like leaves fall
spring, where delicate flowers peek out of unexpected places
and your laugh blooms like tulips
summer, where things are mediocre and there comes a bit of rain
and your heart feels moderate, like the temperatures
and autumn, where leaves turn gorgeous colors and so do you

it seems you've been through winter
and maybe you're still there
I hope you get your spring and autumn
remember there's summer in between

remember to stay rooted,
beautiful things are yet to come.

My parents still ask about you
And I roll my eyes
And pretend I never think about you

but every time it rains
you reappear in my mind
It brings me back to the day you left

When the clouds cried along
And the sky turned pale as my skin
On the fridgid June day

I don't know how to feel
angry or sad
and I'm still as confused as I was back then

For fifteen years
I've always exchanged the same words
"Goodnight, have a good sleep. I love you"

Tonight was the first night
That broke the fifteen year streak
Of you never going to sleep angry at me

I'm sorry mother
I really am
I'm sorry for you too

I'm sorry your hands are turning old
With random speckles,
And portruding veins

I'm sorry there's wrinkles on your face
And your greys reappear after two weeks
And you're having several pains

I'm sorry you didn't have a childhood
And you don't know how to smile
Not even for a picture

I'm sorry Ma
I'm sorry I'm having a hard time
I'm sorry I rub it off on you

I'm sorry for my laziness
I'm sorry you even had to have me
I'm sorry for my drama

I wish I could give you all you deserve
Cause Ma
I would give you all heaven if I could.

Bones
and skin
and an almost nonexistent tummy
were enjoyable to me

I loved my hip bones
and I was satisfied with what I saw in the mirror
I ate often until I was full

I thought I was regular looking.
And I had peace with my shape
until the voices came

"You're too skinny"
"You're abnormal"
"You have a boyish body"
"You're legs are sticks"
"Where'd your *** go?"
"You've gotta eat more"
"Where are your *******?"
"Your back is awfully boney"

And those words
deteriorated me
and I was left with no good thoughts about myself

And I wish I could scream
and tell them I'm fine
I'm eating well
I'm suviving fine

I used to like myself
But now I don't
And it's all them spewing out words

We all have this perception of self love
And how you can't love if you don't love yourself first
But I think we need someone to love us first
to tell us our bones are beautiful
Or our places of fat are meaningless
And to tell us we're loved

But they're hypocritical
Their critiques will never help
And I'll never love my bones again.

it hurts
throat,
stomach,
and mind.
I just want to drown
and I am drowning
I've been drowning.

and it sounds pathetic
but I just really feel alone
and I just want to scream
until my lungs dry out
and my skin turns red
and my head is pounding

but there's no one to vent to
because i'm fifteen
and my problems are too mere

and I cannot remember the last time
someone was concerned about true feelings
or my sudden quietness
or how I've been lately

here I am screaming and drowning
over the absence of unimportant people
while there orphans and hungry babies
and cancer and mental disorders.

so i'll keep quiet
no one cares
so why should I

and my heart sank
like a rusty two ton anchor
in the sea of depression I used to swim

you were my lifeboat for two weeks
and i'm sinking again
i'm drowning deeper than I was before

and you will not come a save me
because you'll be distracted and focused
on that charismatic beautiful girl.

The never ending relationship
of the moon and the sea is complicated
perhaps worse than Romeo and Juliet

What if after millions of years,
mornings and nights,
the sea decides to tell the moon
that she doesn't want to be controlled
by him anymore

Becuase he makes her tides into
an uncontrollable disaster
and she is litteraly a sea of emotions
with screaming waves
and murmuring ripples

And she looks up and
cries to the moon
to stop overpowering her
because she is tired of the recklessness

But the moon replies
that she is nothing without him
And he'll either forever control her for eternity
or leave her forever,
dead, immobile, with no beating heart
which is her tide.

I wish I would have spoken.

3 am

Eyelids are heavy

Thoughts are stirring

Merging, into new ones

Forming something magnificent

Chills down my body

Feel like hands trying to tickle

And my eyelids want to shut

I want to exasperate feelings

And sleep with a clear mind

Thoughts are out of line

Or unrealistic like hallucinations

I dream of going back in time

And fixing many things

Making myself into something

Something not inferior

Something that is not

Too diffrent or too the same

Critique comes from being

An individual, a follower, or a wannabe

Meanwhile I'm thinking

And trying to create;

To create the most beautiful colors

That I will see when I die.

You were like nicotine for a while
you filled me up
and I felt whole
but I didn't think you were toxic

I remember like yesterday
how you took my delicate hand
with boney malnourished fingers
with green and purple veins
and you gently kissed it
and for an instant I was fascinated

But from those couple of seconds
that were called an instant
I became completely infatuated
with my head in cotton clouds

But it's been almost a year
and you've moved on,
onto your next victim

And theres a hurricane of of emotions
because you've informed me
that you are happy and whole
(Which was what I was trying to make you)
but it hurt because it wasn't me making you happy

It was the girl with simplicity stamped on her image
and freckles that you probably enjoyed counting
it was not the millions of pages
I had written to you
trying so hard to make you
love yourself like I loved you

And I still sit and wonder about you everyday

And when the teacher asked
us to write about the best day of our lives
my mind swerved back to you
but I knew that you were a few seats behind
probably writting about your freckled face girl

I still remember
the warm ambrosia
I felt fill me up
like blood in veins
and marrow in bones
when our fingers intertwined
and you stared into my soul

I wonder if she feels
the nicotine and ambrosia too

Maybe we want to be
like the flowers
pressed in books,

specifically chosen out of all
the little beautiful flowers
the petals die and fall
and disconnect from their world.
And while they are broken, dying
and slowly withering away
someone finds potential
of it becoming beautiful.

They take the time and gentleness
to pick it up
without breaking it even more
and preserving it forever.

You're always
At battle
Against me

Maybe you would've been better
Without me since day one
Because you felt invisble
And all the attention was on me

I'm sorry
I truly am
I know how it feels

Please stop battling against me
its been far too long
So long that now I am
At battle with myself
And there's never
A resolution
Or treaty
Or peace
Within me
There is no end

I am like the cracked sidewalk
Slowly eroding
With fading colors and
Roots breaking through

The sidewalk is ancient
And not very beautiful
Just plain and gray
With millions of stories
But with not much importance

Walked all over
Stepped on
And engraved
Having seen thousands
of lovers pass by
And countless memories created
But it didn't partake in any
Loves
Adventures
Or stories

And no one seemed to ever
Look at the sidewalk
Or find beauty in its cracks
It was simply just to step on
And walk away
Without a thank you

So it slowly covers
With dead fall leaves
And chewed up gum
Developing more cracks
Desperately waiting for
Maintenance to come

I'm not beautiful
I'm not bright
I'm not talented
Or precious in anyones sight

I'm plain
With brown eyes
And brown hair
And average everything

No I don't want you to pity me
I don't even want to pity myself

I'll never amount to anyones dream
I'll never be enough
And I'll usually be ignored

I have to cope with what I have
And who I am
Because I can't wait for someone
To change me
And pick me up
And make me feel significant
Because there will be a desperation
To tough to handle
Like an alcoholic
Waiting for their next drink
And cigarette smoker
Waiting for their break
To smoke another.

And they will never
Get their drink
Or get their cigar
And they'll die
Of weariness
Like I die
Waiting for
**you

Don't be the fluid
that slowly fills my lungs
and makes it harder for me to breathe

Just because my problems
Are smaller than yours
Does not make them inferior
Or insignificant

Dont you dare tell me
I am over exaggerating
Because you are not in my skin
You dont really know how this is

Just because you've gone
Through millions of miles
Of problems and successes
Does not mean my achievements
Are measly or amount to nothing

Just because you are numb now
Doesn't mean you should numb me too
I can't have a life full of anesthetics

**Just let me be

When you are asked
What you look for
You say eyes
And a smile
And overall beauty
Like most of the guys

So my endless nights of studying
And attention I pay everyday
To further become a more intelligent being
And the positive thoughts I cram
Into my brain
To have a beautiful personalty
And the millions of words
I tie together to form
A meaningful poem
are nothing

So maybe thats why
We spend countless hours
Just finding what perfect shade
Of lipstick brings out our smile
And pointless times
Fixing our hair
And precious seconds
Trying to excentuate our eyes
And thousands of dollars
Of metal and wire
To straighten our smiles

and maybe thats why
I put down my books
And picked up the makeup


But I've slowly returned


To the books

Because

Beauty without
Intelligence
Is like a masterpiece
On a napkin

Passing by
Without even a glance
Without even a thought

Its you everyday

Its not just you
Its everyone

No
I was not just
A chapter in your book
I was a sentence
In your whole
Bookshelf with millions of books

And of course
I'm on that page
Of the dusty old book
You haven't opened in years
And of course
You haven't even bothered to
Reread the book
And you don't even remeber
The storyline.

"If anyone botheres you
I've got your back"
You said

So I guess you'll have
To reevaluate your statment

Because your phrase
Echoes in my head
Bugging me each
And every one
Of my days

How you told me
To stop being myself
Because I was a little weird

And now my fears came true
I got to know that everyone else
Thought that too
Because how could a father
Tell his daughter
To stop being who she is

So my smile slowly faded
You saw it less and less
Each time
And my playfulness halted
And turned into series of complaints

I hear it all the time
In your voice
you are disappointed
You are slowly shriveling me up
Weighing me down

I am sorry
I am not enough.

We are introduced
into this world
with our eyes closed
with blurred vision
on a glorious day

And soon
we close our eyes
to dream
to rest
to kiss

We are led out of the world
out of our misery
into paradise
with our eyes closed

Is it because
the best things in life
cannot be seen?

I need a blind friend
Who tells me they are impressed

Because I ask myself
At all hours of the day
"If the world was blind,
who would I impress?"

Maybe they could tell me
How my voice really sounds
and they could create beautiful
Metaphors comparing the sounds
They hear everyday to my voice

And maybe they could piece
Together my words
And form a glorious image
In thier blank mind
And tell me how they can almost see me
When they hear the harmony of my sounds

and then they could tell me
I am beautiful
and I could really believe it
because they are
viewing me in a new perspective
as if imagining me from the inside out
heart and brain exposed.

I replay the moments in my head
Of when I first grazed my eyes
Across such a wonderful being
And how I had to take a second look
Because you were like the mysteries
That I craved for

I remember how your lips curled
Into the 8th wonder of the world
And from then on
You and your pale face
stayed etched into my brain

It was like slow motion
As if time around us slowed down
Like in the cheesy movies
And from then on
I was intoxicated by you

But you had a greater love
for mary jane
I knew you were no good for me
But thoughts of you sprinted across my head
Back and forth through the days
And soon I had accumulated
Millions of lined pages
With poems of you

I was ashamed of liking
Someone in love with mary jane
But you were one of the most
Interesting people I had ever seen
Without words I felt a connection
And your eyes held stories
That I yearned to discover

Wanting you was like
Pulling a string on a beautiful sweater
(My life)
And slowly unraveling it to become just
An entanglement of yarn
the thread had to be cut off
by authority (God)
and so he seperated us

But I still see you
and remember that moment
clear as day
and I still see your wandering eyes
And hear your voice in the halls

I try to stay away
but I slowly drift back.
In my dreams of you
there is no mary jane
you are not intoxicated

but if you are temptation
why are you in my
God given dreams
I know I can't change you
so
get out of my head
get out of my head
**get out of my head

The fact that I am inferior
Is etched into my brain
A weakling in this world,
Just a speck of dust on the windowpane

The other girls beauty
Radiates farther
And the intensity of their
Bleached white teeth
Outshine my metal mouth

It's like the how the colors
of fall leaves
Attract many
But no one enjoys
The simple green chlorophyll
Inside their spring and summer veins.

November 6
this day
Brought me a feeling inside
Of deep depression seeping in
How I witnessed too much
How she cried over the ring
Of her parents broken marriage
Tears forming in her eyes
tilting her head up so they wouldnt fall
To reveal the pain she felt
But it radiated towards me

And how saftey pins and beads
Ment so much to her
An unknown meaning
But I felt her emotions gravitating
Towards me

How the boy
With rebellion tattooed in his mind
Had a quiet face
That showed how angry he was inside
But his smile was something
Rare and special that I had barley seen

how the girls
Could claim
To be my friends
But swiftly leave
And isolate me
Without a care
loneliness was something
That occured each day
more *often
The the day before

How I have to see
you
The being I once deeply cared about
That I gave my all for
With someone else

How that boy
Stared at that girl
In a way I envied
No, not with lust
But with a love
Searching for every
Perfect thing in her

Observing
All day
is a habit
Which I hate
I discover
Things That
I should
Not know

I dont know
Who I am
And if I lost myself
In the recourring events.
I'm somehow
a blurred fingerprint
out of millions
On a telephone screen
Or a mut on the the street
(Unable to be defined as a certain breed)
Or a speck of dust on a window pane
Observing everyone.  
Its like floating in an endless turquoise ocean
distancing from the people on shore
While they couldnt care less
or even notice
they just keep playing
their games and staring into the sun
until its too late.

I thought by now
I'd be fine
But at times
You creep into
the crevices of my mind
Slowly seeping in
and deepening wounds
You once had stitched

I am in a state
Of feeling inferior
And your false promises
Echo in my brain
They whisper
That I'll never be the same

the worst part is
I sit patiently waiting
for someone to stitch me up again
While my conscience
Trys to protect me

You are
The delicately pressed flowers you collect
In your favorite childhood book
The way you cross your t's
And dot your I's
The specific way you enjoy the weather
Even if its grey and frosty
If you dog ear your books
And highlight certain words that appeal to you.

You are
How long you stay on the phone
listening to the other person whisper
moments of their day
And how you like you coffee or tea.

You are
what you think is beautiful
And what you choose to wonder about
When you observe out of your window
And what you thank God for every day.

You are
the melodies and photographs
You enjoy the most
And the quotes you've cherished across time.

You are
The way you keep your hands
And whether or not your palms get sweaty
In anticipation of something bittersweet.

All these things collect
Into a beautiful diary
which is you.

stabbing words
cut it like scissors
tough emotions
crumple it up
manipulative actions
tear it up as a whole
flaming slurs
disintegrate it like acid
bad memories and experiences
yellow it

kind words
temporarily stick it together like a glue stick
lovely actions  
fix rips for a while like tape

please don't fracture a paper heart,
it'll never be the same.

4am
Cracks on my lips
Blood seeping out
sadness trying to escape
From the frostbite you provided

5am
Chills down my spine
Goosebumps sprouting on skin
Fears chilling within
From the memories you provided

6am
Lavender and jade green
Sinking beneath my eyes
Tiredness is the state in which I lay
From the exhaustion you provided

7am
I shuffle by
knowing you'll see me
But the fog blinds you
From what you've provided

I prayed
And prayed
And prayed
For God not to
seperate us

My biggest fear
is I'll fade from your mind
like old ink
on yellowed paper

I fear I'll forget
How your pale skin
Is something of beauty
and how the freckles
on your arms
are like a connect-the-dots
And how fascinating
it was to see
Your liquid copper
Strands of hair
Frame an interesting face

I fear I'll forget
your face of focus
and how you almost always
need music to breathe.
And how your swift walk
contains a wonderfully incorrect posture
and how uniquely words flowed
from your mouth
when I rarley heard you speak

I fear I'll forget
the language
our near black eyes
spoke day to day
Trying to communicate
words I cannot say
it was as if
yours were speaking back too.

I strive to stay in your mind
like a coffee stain
on a white linen shirt
until we meet again.

Please take time
To compliment someones flaws
Tell them how
The wrinkles under their eyes
Are a beautiful touch to their smile
How their eye bags
Are the most beautiful color of violets
And how their freckles
Are like a field of flowers
And how their green veins
Showing through their pale skin
Are like tunnels flowing through
a beautiful city

Time is money
Is what many say
Sometimes time is considered a friend
sometimes it is considered a enemy

Like waiting for something
Breathing deeply
  Exhausting oxygen
   For something that may never happen
Like the time away from a person
When you feel yourself
  Fading from their mind
   Forgetting a bond
    That used to mean the world
Like the time we've been alive
Counting how many days
  Seconds
   And breaths we've lived
    Wasting our time
     Saying "when the time is right"
      And we have not taken chances

She was
Wasted space
In a catalog of people.
All loudly displaying
Some sort of talent.
Leafing through the pages
You find them
Dancing gracefully
  Playing with a ball
   Singing a melody
    Solving a math problem
     Being a beautiful model
      Strumming a guitar.
Flip to the page
And find an unknown girl
With bland brown eyes
And brown hair
With tears streaming
Down her pale face
Because she could not perceive
her gift.
  She was barley even visible
   And everyone surpassed her.
What a waste of space
In a catalog full of people
  Blooming with talent
   While her only talent
    Was being invisible.

Once a girl
Had seen me cry
And attempted to repose me
By telling me
There is nothing wrong
With being sensitive

What she didn't know
Is how it felt
  To have glassy eyes
    Accompanied by blurred vision
     And a puffy scarlet face
To hold on to salty tears
Until my head split with aching pain
  Because I was so terrified
   Of anyone catching a glimpse
    Of my canary yellow heart
     Turn cobble stone grey

I love mysteries
but not just the type
  printed in black ink
   in binded books
I enjoy the mysteries
that walk
  that contain a set of lost eyes
   whose lips speak words
    in a particular voice
whose ears always have earphones
whose mind drifts off
  whose face of concentration
   is something quite beautiful
I like that kind of mystery
whose laugh is unique
  whose smile is a rarity
   and has rarely spoken
    to me
we only speak with our eyes
exchanging wondrous stares.