Do you dare to break a window?
Oh angry girl.
Your accidental outburst puts us all to shame.

What did they do to you to make you like this?
Is it really my business?
You made it so when you broke that **** window.

You kicked it. With brute force and intent.
What was the window supposed to do?
(Surely not break)
Well it did-

I pray that your regrets last until the next decision;
when another insect crosses your path.
Perhaps then you would choose a wiser action?

Oh angry girl, I will never know what angry thoughts you hide.
"It was an accident, not out of malice," Gail defended.
"How can you kick out a bus window without malice?"
The woman on the other end replied.

You all complain.
But as my days in this house are numbered,
as the oaks begin to catch sunlight as if it were just for me,
I see now, more than ever before, that this is the most beautiful place.

I know by now you must be bored, but you don't see what I see.
I see the green and the green and the green again.
That bright green that only the god I half-heatedly believe in could have created.

I feel the sun that I've longed for in the rain that we so desperately need.
It's here now. It's here to tempt my inevitable return once I leave.
It's these trees I want. These oaks are the only ones that can please me.

I hear the crow of my boy, he's challenging me.
But I don't have the heart to tell him that our days are numbered.
My days in this house are numbered. And it's killing me.

I love this Valley. It's the only place I need.
It's here to tempt my inevitable return once I leave.

I miss the challenge
Someone to take me on
I miss heat- not warmth
Heat.
I miss wit and snark and sharp
Maybe even some deceit.
I miss lust.
I miss the simpler uncertainty.
Of whether or not they'd love me.
I miss the butter and the flies and the challenge of someone who dared to challenge me.
I miss maturity. I miss a man who would always be older than me.
I miss the hand I couldn't see leading me to what was never meant to be.
I miss being right when I wasn't supposed to be. I miss him.
I miss the power.
I miss the struggle.
I miss being small, trying to be tall.
I miss proving the excellence of everything I did.
I miss the praise from the audience.
I miss the ability to choose.
The ability to lose.
I miss the crew that always knew I was the ****. Hit or miss.
I miss the fire and the unguilty ability to tell a faceless name "no".

But I can't anymore. Because he's good for me.
I have to say yes.

I barely know you
In fact, I don't know you at all.
But you're there
And you're running your fingers through my hair.
You approach me
Stare into my eyes
You're closer now
Place your feet on either side of mine.
Brush the lint off my leg
Move the hair off my neck

Stop touching me.

Never stop touching me.

Put your hand behind my head
Press my face against your chest
Richard knows it's bad
And I know she'd be mad
But I can't help but need
Babe, I can't suppress my greed.
Conversation is cheesy
But the passion is easy.

I want to you to think I'm different
And ignore the girls in the distance.

I thought of you in the shower and I hope you think of me.

I've known you for five years.
We were best friends for four.
You were older by fifteen years.
But even at thirteen I loved you more
than any man I've ever met.
And I still do.
And I know that with each still birth your heart broke off another piece.
And I am sorry.

But that doesn't mean that I don't think about you every day.
And wish that eventually you will come out and say
I love you.

Because I will never stop loving you too.
Even if you never told me your last name.

I am surrounded by those who love me.
Yet I woke up this morning alone.
I don't know this feeling.
This lack of support.
I don't know how to cope.

My mind is plagued with doubt and fear.
Whenever the one I want to love comes near.
I cower from his pain, more so than my own.
Which is why I must handle this alone.

This bitter bite that's been leading to tears.
That has consumed my mind since New Years.
This lack of a feeling that I think I need.
That rooted worry that grows like a ****.

I want forgiveness for taking so long.
To have the time to right this wrong.
To start over and let my self fall.
To know that this wasn't worth nothing after all.

I have no reference
No ability to see
If this is perfection
If you are the best one for me

Your gut is loud and confident
That I am the one you seek
But how can I know that
You are the best Fish in the sea?

It is not the present I fear
But the future I can not see
Will a random stranger suddenly come
And sweep me off my feet?

Will years of happy marriage thrive
For all eternity?
Or will passion wilt away for all
And split our family tree?

I want to be believe you'll always be my cup of tea and we'll get our happy ending.

"How can you offer me love like that?

                  I'm exhausted

                                                                            Leave me alone."

Why can't you want me like the other boys do?
They stare at me while I stare at you.

Why can't I keep you safe as my own
One moment I have you-
the next you're gone.

We have steps on an empty stage
That boy's got my heart in a silver cage.

Why can't you want me like the other boys do?
They stare at me while I-
Crave You.


It's true.
                  I crave You.


Around his little finger
that boy has got me curled.

I tried to reach out but he's in
his own world.

This boy has got my head tied in knots
with all his games.

I simply want him more because he looks the other way...


Why can't you want me
like the other boys do?

They stare at me while I-
                                                             *Crave you

I miss lusting over boys who didn't want me back.
At least then I had an active imagination.
Now I feel nothing.
Nothing good, anyway.

I am ready now
I knew I was ready when the words slipped from my lips driving home.
It wasn't the song that was playing, but  lines of a poem that I had not yet written.
The lyrical reminders that I am still smitten

By You.
You're still there.

I'm the in the library
You pull out my chair.
I need a parking pass
You pay for my fare.
In the day you're there and I'm aware that you stare at me but
at night

At night
I. Feel. You.

When the wind reminds me of how warm your presence can be.
When the door below the exit sign of the lecture hall opens and it is not you but the kind of girl I thought you would have wanted instead of me.

I stare at that door.
I stare at it and wish for ***** blonde and broad shoulders.
For sturdy hands that make the perfect holders for my heart.
I stare at that ******* door hoping that you will open it and everyone will wonder who you are and their answer comes when you grab me and give me that kiss long overdue.  

at night
On Tuesdays
I leave that lecture hall and return to my room.
And I stare at that door wishing for a flannel and green-hazel eyes.
I stare at my door praying to any god that for the night you come and make love to me.
For you to come and look at me like you did the first time and let me make up for all of the over-thinking. For all of the fear.
So you can teach me how to love you.

You don't have to stay till morning.
Just long enough for me to fall asleep in your arms.

at night
When the time comes for me to squeeze the sheets
I whisper your name.
Because I only want that pleasure from you.

I am afraid of loss.
I am afraid of being used.
And during the day I venture alone.
But at night I
only
  want
    you.

******.

I was sure not to lead you on.
I know we hit it off
I know we get along.

We've been texting all week
And I am honored that you think
I'm beautiful.

I can't wait till D & D
The invitation means a lot to me.
So strange that you'll be down the street.

I want our friendship to grow
Do I want to date you?
I don't know.

Just don't send me heart texts.
Don't wish I was there.
Breaking another heart is my only fear.

"But you like him-"
"-That's what you said!"
Before I flushed the hormones out of my head.

I don't want this to happen.
Not again.
Don't make your affection something to regret.

Because I could never tell you I like your best friend.

We walked in and you were groggy
Laying in bed.
I wanted nothing more than to lay with you.
But instead I sat on the floor, pretending to admire the ceiling.

How ironic that you were wearing my favorite shirt of yours
White with blue and orange stripes.
It's the only thing about that evening that went as I had planned.
And even that was short lived.

Hayden felt at home and I felt alone.
Mike was somewhere in between.
I couldn't tell if you were surprised that I was in your room.
Maybe you were too tired to think.

But I wasn't.
So I sat there, next to the poster of Fergie
Pretending to admire the ceiling
Wondering if you'd let me clean the cobwebs in the corner.

It was a beautiful ceiling
Intricate and gold.
I couldn't imagine your room being any other way.
Fergie's *** was rubbing it in my face.

I followed everyone downstairs
they were waiting for a movie
but I was waiting for you.
I was afraid you had gone back to bed

You changed your shirt but didn't bother to fix your hair.
I like white button-ups
but not as much as the stripes.
You have very boney knees but I don't mind.

I wished I could say something clever like I  normally do.
But I just can't when I'm around you.
My thoughts were wasted or already used by someone else.
That was humiliating.

You wanted to drive with us to my house.
But you didn't bother put shoes on.
We held eye contact and it looked like you forgot how to smile.
That was the highlight of my evening.

"This house is beautiful"
was the first thing I said.
Hayden said something like "It's old as hell"
And you both went on to joke about the ghosts that built it.

You might not ever know what I think of you
You might not ever love me.
I might not ever be able to hold your skeletal hands
I might not ever be able to call those boney shoulders mine.
This might be another failed and broken cycle.
This might be like every other crush I've had.
I might not ever show my true self to you.
You might not ever like it when I do.
I might have wasted a month of my time.
And you might not ever care.

How dare you tell me to give up.
That this dream will not come true.

I love him because I choose to
and I possess enough determination
for me to obtain what I have been searching for
in one form or another.

Do not place your disappointment on my shoulders in the form of a warning.

I do not need a warning.
I have learned plenty of times from past experiences that my dream is unrealistic and rare
but It is still my dream

And this search will not end in heart ache
It will end when I choose it to.

Do not subject me to your disappointment
in the form of a warning.

I am warning  you.

There are so many. So many boys.

I like to hear the smart ones.
Who can cut a pi in half and use proper diction.
That's ****.

I like to see the handsome ones.
Who have impeccable shoulder blades and those sultry eyes.
That's ****.

I like to talk to the funny ones.
Who are fountains of wit yet still laugh at my jokes.
That's ****

They all like to see, hear, and talk to me.
They just don't know it yet.
I'm ****.

There are so many. So many boys.

"That's all I can say"
You said.

I told you that was okay.
"No worries."
I didn't know what I wanted you to say...

Okay yea I did.

I've returned to check up on my past.
Now I know that I have no idea was love is.
Never did.
Still kinda don't.

Guess I better find out.

You know you're desperate when you start taking quizzes on the internet that tell you whether or not he likes you.

You're a part of the culture.
A culture of oppression, and profiles.

You're lost because you know this,
and you're one of the exiles.

But you are wrong.
I tell you, yet you remain in denial.

Only you can save you,
from becoming a hopeless juvenile.

It's not a boy- so let me stop you there.
It isn't drugs either.

Everyone has an addiction.
Whether you like to admit it, it's there.

For some, it's a substance.
A-
grindable, smokeable, snortable
-substance.

For others it's an action.
A-
keep me busy, cleaning, eating, touching
-action.

For me, it's a cycle.
A-
god just look at him looking at me I want to be pursued what if he would touch me please come over me and touch me before I explode and my friend has to pick up the hot pieces I want to express this but I can't because I'm calm collective and sophisticated and mature and no one but Jackson Chesley Fenna Sarah Fish Alicia and Plum can know how desperately lonely I am I want to be with you oh my god you don't love me what's wrong with you what's wrong with me I can't believe that I waisted all of this energy on you I am so much better than that because I am calm, collective, and sophisticated
-cycle


Repeat.

I had a dream
that you tried to **** me with a hammer.



I guess this means you don't love me.

It takes every fiber of my being not to message you.
I want nothing more than to recieve

Something simple
Something sweet
Something I can devour and eat

That little green light that tells me you're there
makes me want to rip out my insides
and cut off my hair.

And just like that you're gone.
Not a message or beep.
Not a like on my status
or theoretical tweet.

You don't comment or post
You don't now how close
I am to losing my mind
over this boy
who's too skinny and uses chap-stick all of the time.

Just like that you're gone.
And I'm singing the same **** song
About the tall cynical boy
Who keeps me up all night long.

I want you to take care of me in every way you know possible.

I am enough.

I've liked many, I've liked a lot.
Some I remember, and some I forgot.

But you, my friend, have always been around.
To lift up my spirits and make me feel proud.

I wish for you to feel the same.
To see the value and honor your name.

When your sorrows drown out the praise.
I wish you to remember the happiest of days.

Help will be enlisted; help is on the way.
We will hold your hand when the demons come to play.

Even if all seems lost like the Battle of Trost
We will carry the banner, on which, your name is embossed.

I pledge allegiance to you, my friend.
You have a long way to go-

This is not the end.

Lips to ear, whispering something I need you to hear.
This is what happens when I dream of you.
You scare me with the reckless things you do.

Last night it was cigarettes.
I threw them on the ground and turned you around.
I knew you had more than the one pack I found.

I stepped closer and you held me.
My arms around your neck
You had your hands on my lower back.

I pleaded in whispers, "Tyler, please stop"
You said nothing, that's as as far as I got.

I remember your body, breaths easy and low.
Then I woke up, drooling on my pillow.

God stabbed me through the heart with an arrow.

You were that arrow.

I didn't even notice when you pulled yourself out of my chest.

But now I'm left with nothing but a hole.

I prevent infection with pictures and memories



but the antidote is something much more potent.

They all tell me wonderful things.

You're too beautiful.
You're too intimidating.
You're too smart.
You're too good for them.

It's not that I don't believe them,
   it's just that:

I'm too ******* lonely.

I don't love you, not one bit.
But I do love it.

It.
The feeling of you creeping up my side
I'll dismiss you no matter how hard you try
To convince me that you've got nothing to hide.
That feeling of worthiness that only you can provide.
I need it.

Touch me. I dare you.
I love it.

I didn't buy this perfume for you.
But smelling me is the least you could do.
Smell me. All over. You know you want to.
It will make them so jealous; because they all want you.
They want it too.

I know I'm selfish, and I'm so sorry.
I think I'm addicted to you.

I have food and shelter.
I have people to love
and be loved by.

But this love is expected
and casual and quaint.
One would assume there is no room for complaint.

I am surrounded by friends.
Their love is kind and serene.
Yet no one acknowledges the space in between.

While they are all close,
No one comes closer.
No one would dare lay their head on my shoulder.

The ones who do always have to leave.
I'm left with empty arms and a lonely spot to grieve.

Average girls get balloons and sweets.
They never ask, yet still receive.
Why can't those things be done for me?

I am tired of desire.
Of wanting to be wanted.
It's as if because I am strong, my emotions are forgotten.

Touch.
It's as simple as that.
A pet on my hair or a pat on the back.

This could cure my ailment.
Make me less alone.
I can no longer survive with chats on the phone.

So please,
Good friend of mine.
Hold my hand as I shutter and cry.

The simplest gesture,
one miniscule touch.
Even if you don't realize that it means so much.

I don't know what I'm doing.

I think that I'm clinging to the hope
that when this all ends

I won't be alone anymore.

I don't think you understand your actions.
No one has ever told me they loved me to my face.
Not like that.
Not someone like you.

And the worst part is: I can't even enjoy it.
That's not the love I wanted.
I can get that at home.

No, I don't want her to come with us.
Yes, I feel guilty about you buying me things.
No, I don't want you to drive me home;
It's a half hour in the other direction.  

There is nothing I can dislike about you.
And that makes it so much worse.

Poetry is hard.

Not because of writer's block
or the fear of judgemental readers

Not because you can't decide whether or not to rhyme
or you check your profile all the time.

Poetry is hard because of the knowledge you gain.
The dark secrets of people's lives are so
so
so

sad.

Girls that I know in person to be sweet and wonderful
suffer from demons that I couldn't dream of.
Boys that seem to breathe nothing but affection
tell of abusing the worst of substances and the best of women.

Poetry is dark and scary and makes my problems seem so
so
so

insignificant.

When I see your face at school, I know how sad you are inside.
And it's not fair.

It's not fair because I can not help you
I cannot help you
and I feel like a terrible friend.
I am already selfish and would like nothing more than to say "Just get over it" and for it to work but I can't because those are your problems.

Not mine.

I won't tell anyone your secret

Poetry is so
so
so

hard.

I can still feel your arm around my waist.
Your hand above my hip
unconsciously tugging me closer.

I can still feel my hand on Ryan's shoulder.
He said it didn't make him uncomfortable
which is a rare thing.

I feel your hand tugging again.

I don't know what to do.
When I look at you I don't feel anything.
But when you touched me that was entirely different.

It just about pushed me over the edge.

The thought comes almost everyday.
In English.
She sits beside me or near me or far.
And I begin to daze upon how it should be.

If only I had my dress.
If I had my dress you would see not my sarcasm,
But the lean meat that I am privileged to call my flesh.

If I had my dress you would not be intimidated by my skin
But left in awe by it's glow

If I had my dress you would not be able to fear my height
But embrace the perfect and soft curves as you look upon me.

If I had my dress you would no longer hear her shrill siren call over my deafening beauty.

Pretty speaks volumes,
But what does untouchable say?

Absolutely nothing right now.

I wish you'd stay and keep me company
where do you go?

I think I want you to come closer
but I'm the only one who's allowed to devour.

I could say that I want your hands all over me
but you smell like cigarettes.

I live for the wink, the recognition
but I can't believe it's real.

This isn't love or infatuation.
I'm simply lonely.
And I need someone to test my resolve.

This has happened before.
And it will happen again.

This stage.
My most and least favorite stage
where I sit and think of you all day.

It's exciting.
And ever so self-destructive.
It's where I'm the most vulnerable,
and the most motivated.

The thought of seeing you
propels me through the day.
But I'm left disappointed
when you won't look my way.

It's like a self-proclaimed waiting room
inside my fantasizing head.
It's where I wait to see if you'll fix me.
I've been diagnosed with loneliness.

Is this fair? No.
But I do this to myself.
At least I don't focus
on possessions or wealth.

It's the cycle that I spoke of.
In that other poem.
Where I daydream of a boy
yet I barely know him.

When things don't work out
I am destroyed and relieved
I will never have him
And the cycle repeats.



This has happened before.
And it will happen again.
Where I sit in the waiting room
inside my head.

Is something that I can't do to you.