it's hard to explain how
some days I'm full of smiles
and I'm convinced everything is okay.
and other days I'm too crippled
sometimes i can talk myself out of it--
tell myself its all in my head.
but most days it makes
even the happiest moments
lined with overwhelming worry.
sometimes i can forget about it
when I'm distracted for a moment.
but it always finds a way to sneak out
past my chapped lips
creating sound from my sorrowful tongue.
my concerns become voiced
even if i don't want them to be.
but if i don't speak out
the anxiety will bury me.
the worst feeling
is when you imagine
a beautifully worded
line of poetry
and forget to write it down.
too lazy to write it
when you're laying tiredly in bed.
and once you've awaken,
certain you would've remembered,
your face can't help but fall
in pure disappointment.
regret overcomes you
as you realize slowly
that those words will never come back.
one can only hope
that this moment of beauty,
is not as fleeting.
I hide my pain between smiles
and in my poetry behind sloppy metaphors.
I tuck it in nice and neatly
into my personified words of hurt.
And in phrases laced with the
essence of you.
A completed poem,
a now free mind.
I almost gave up.
I was tired of being trampled on
by boys wearing men's shoes.
Angry, alone, and forgotten.
I was taught that love was fleeting--
not worth wasting your time on.
Then the most serendipitous event occurred:
And now I find myself wishing on every 11:11
My father made me feel
like I was never good enough.
My grades were never high enough,
my weight never low enough,
and I was never pretty enough.
It's a hard lesson to live with
when it berates you every time you
My first boyfriend emotionally abused me.
Toyed with me and used me
to try and get what he wanted.
Sexually harassed me in the middle of class
and I was told by my friends he'd hit me one day.
When I refused to give in to his pathetic whims,
he resigned to talking to his ex girlfriend
because I wasn't good enough.
The next three guys I was with was really only one,
who came back each time after breaking me
with a new excuse, a new reason to reel me in.
Break up with me, date someone else,
ask for me back and then flirt with someone else.
I still was't good enough no matter what I did.
I moved on finally and met the next guy.
A presumed sweetheart who had issues, like me.
But his daddy issues and inability to show emotion,
slowly suffocated me.
His own insecurities attacked mine
and instead of trying to make me feel good about myself,
he insisted on asking me why
I wasn't as good as the other girls he'd been with.
And now I've met you.
You came into my life when I least expected it
and have exceeded all of my highest expectations
because you treat me how I deserve
and never let me forget my worth.
So, I'm sorry I get insecure,
and ask you to not bring things up.
I understand that I am unreasonable sometimes
and I know there's no cure for the mess that I am.
But after all is said and done,
theres nothing I'm more grateful for
than you saying you understand.
when i was younger
i sat in the back seat of my parents' car
and stared out the window.
it was mostly trees i saw--
blurs of moldy green and dark brown.
but i liked the way the colors swirled together
and all the lines of the trunks smeared.
so i built a camera in my head
to capture each image as the car drove
a steady 45 miles an hour.
i'd look intensely at the scene,
close my eyes for a second
and when i opened,
tried to remember everything.
for the first few seconds i could
but, then i couldn't.
i'd take another picture
and do it all over again.
i could never hold on to it.
it was my first lesson.
I wish people were like memorabilia
so you can remember exactly how the are.
but you cant leave them in a jewelry box
on your dresser for safekeeping
or in a shoebox under your bed.
you can't put them on the top shelf
of your closest
cause when they're dead, they're dead.
no way to hold onto their heartbeat
or the warmth of their smile when they look at you.
oh, but what i'd give to be able to hold on
to every last piece of you.