It’s one year later now
And all your pictures are gone
It’s two girls later and yet you’re still the one
That I’m writing about and I don’t understand
Why I can’t let you go
There was little to nothing that was so special
About the week and a half we shared
You’re not the only one I’ve stayed awake until
3 A.M. for and you’re not the only girl who has ever made me smile
I’ve had more empty promises than the one you made
To me concerning backpacks and hospital beds
Maybe it’s because you’re the only one who has used me the way you did
I guess I was like medication for your anxiety
You insisted I didn’t have to be here and I told you
I knew what I was doing
When I took the class the next semester it almost killed me
Because I had to do it alone
And I felt so lost
When the doctor asked me if I was on any medication
It was all I could do not to scream your name
*~W.C.

You enticed me with a voice like sugar, slowly coating every corner of my mind. Seduced i was by the movements of your body like waves on the ocean. You bound me with hair like snakes of fire crawling their way through my soul. You Keep me happy with the joy that I feel whenever you laugh or are having fun. You stole my heart and were the gentlest Person in the history of the world with it. You Drew me in with your locks of red and bosoms aplenty. While we were in Agressive relations the entire world seemed to dissapear other than me and you for 10 minutes to 5 hours plus. You consumed me mind, body and soul and i tried to consume you mind, body and soul. Then when we were all done i felt like it was my fault but i realize it was you just spreading your wings to go consume another never killing only draining. Always remaining with a chunk of my heart and I with yours. We will forever be a part of each other and i will always love you. Besides the stars say it and so shall it be.

If you're the moon,
I'm the sun,
hopelessly chasing night
but you're on the run.

Or maybe I'm the tide.
and as I taste your shore,
I'm ****** out to sea,
desperately longing for more.

I never dreamed of being
your tragic impossibility,
but for you and me,
love was never meant to be.

*m.w.

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

“I am the paper between two colliding rocks but I won’t tear so easily.”

You’ll wrinkle and crease but you’ll stay whole, with exposed lines of weaknesses.

“They linger with the permanence of tattoos and no one knows how to iron them out.”

So this piece of paper stays lodged in between, neither crushed nor shredded, inked with dirt and scabbed with hurt.

One year ago exactly, I awoke to the miserable news that my dear friend, Morgan Helman, was dead. I called her voicemail and wept my goodbyes. I punched the wall and screamed until I thought my lungs would crack. I wrote a poem to express the ravaging anguish I was experiencing, and to try and honor her life. I read it as a eulogy at her funeral. In it, I mentioned a time when she had asked me to write a happy poem. Everything I had ever written was a result of sadness or some other tortured emotion. I apologized that what I wrote for her was far from happy. I told her someday I would a write a happy poem, though I doubted my own words. One year later, I have walked away from the depressed mental state I used to call home. On the anniversary of her passing, I completed this "happy" poem. It's different than what I'm used to creating. It might not be as artistic as some of my other poetry. But it is a vivid expression of the first step in a new direction. This poem is dedicated to Morgan Helman and the legacy of love she left in her wake.

You Are

Resonating laughter
as the child plays,
hallway smiles
on bad days.

Disney movies
when I'm sick,
lightsaber battles
as a kid.

Rope swings
for make believe Peter-Panning,
backyard sprinklers
spraying the trampoline.

Hot soup
after it snows,
Refreshing popsicles
when the sun glows.

Warm cookies
melting in my mouth,
playing cards
at Grandma's house.

Blazing campfires
engulfed in inspiration,
jam sessions
with passionate musicians.

Barefoot freedom
in the grass and on the beach,
Sandy paradise
sinking beneath my feet.

Captivating books
as it gently rains,
favorite songs
when I'm disarrayed.

Intimate poetry
as my soul sings,
genuine happiness
spilling out of me.

Caring parents
whose admiration lasts,
trustworthy friends
who remove my masks.

Comforting arms
when my friend dies,
calloused hands
pulling tears from drowning eyes.

Raw love
strung on splintered wood,
My God
you are everything good.

~ m.w. ~

I want to tie a string around every one of your fingers and appendages, and perhaps dangle you over the edge of the galaxy just so you'll know what it was like to experience very real and very pure heartbreak.

I'd grasp onto your soul so hard your being started to disintegrate and the atoms of the space around you gathered to push you into a space-time continuum to follow my voice while I walk you through the void, the darkness I went through when you said that last farewell and didn't consider the prison you'd incarcerated me in.

It was as if you'd trapped my soul into passing showers of rainclouds, and you took them with you as you left. I’d drilled your last lovelorn letters to me into a hole in the walls I put up to protect my raw, aching heart from anymore of the tragedy you have caused me. I don’t know if you’d realized your mistake but you never came back. You were lost in the wind, a novel of sweet nothings flung about by moving air and I never saw you since.


You are nothing more than burnt love letters and apologies I whisper every night unknowingly to the empty darkness beside me.


I like to paint your silhouette onto the trees I hug and imagine your shadow as I sleep under the stars because that gave me back some, if not most, of my sanity for a while. Don't you understand how you keep me alive and soulful and willing to continue living?

I breathe the fresh air hoping to get a whiff of you, floating about in the very wind that took you away.


(seastarred)

The way she underlines
her favorite parts in this book
says more than words could.

She never draws straight,
but scribbles little lines
that connect the syllables
in the same way
she etches her little things
one by one, piece by piece
into something worth reading.

I want to highlight
each beautiful characteristic,
underline with sharpie
so her imprint is permanent,
write notes in the margin
to ensure I never forget.

*m.w.