He needed contacts to see
although his sight was sharp
he was blinded by the sight of me
unable to overlook the love-proof tarp

he needed a brace to straighten out
his back, perfectly aligned
yes, he needed a brace to straighten out
he was in trouble all of the time

i needed rehab to cleanse my soul
i've been drug free all my life
for my heart had been buried in a hole
loving him brought me this strife

he needed hearing aids to hear my words
"i love you is all i'd say"
he'd pay more attention to the flying birds
and i'd love my life away

i needed a brain to make me think
i was wasting all of my time
on a boy that made my heavy heart sink
and for that pain there is no rhyme

A pen and paper is all I need
unfortunately no words to write
for even if there was a letter to read
his mind would be on someone else at night

i need some stitches for these wounds
no operation was performed
my love for him just bled right through
his feelings never formed

you needed ears to hear my song
a heart to know it's true
my fantasy could not last long
i'm living it through *you

My shadow walks in front of me
Tells me i've been following
f   a   r
t    o    o
l     o     n     g.
it's time for me
to take the lead

Writing.....much like two lovers
so succumbed by each others' depth
that they forget all that surrounds them.
Writing is a passion,
a way of life that is filtered
through the thoughts of the undecided reader.
poets unknowingly spill words of genius
onto an absorbent sheet of permanence.
reading it over,
admiring each word
like a
piece
of
art,
a painting colored by details that are unrecognizable to the artist.
Not stolen,
not original,
not real to its maker.
As if to have been in a daze whilst cooking up this newly inspired recipe. Blindly painting college ruled lines
with words concocted in a high.
A high off of thoughts
whetted by the thoughts of words.
a constant cycle of
emotions,
words,
poetry....
emotions,
words,
poetry.
writing is inspiring,
enlightening and beautiful.
If only everything could write.
if only everything were written.

I am so disappointed that my mind allows my heart to waste its tears on you.
I become vexed as my sanity is swallowed by the treacherous waves of your image
drowning and teasing my every thought
all that surrounds me is tarnished by a you i once knew
and all that remains untouched.....is lacking
leaving me to fantasize about you
polluting all that is pure and healing in  my life
I want to inhale you
getting higher and higher as your fumes cloud my rationality
no words nor actions have yet to give me a key to forever lock this crooked door
A door that has no path on the other side of its succulent mouth
I could gaze into that doorway all.....day....long
knowing that any journey beyond it would be fruitless
no land to discover
no treasure to be found
in fact, the only fascinating thing about you,
you who lives just beyond that crooked door,
is me.
You are the Narnia my mind has created
for my heart to explore.
A scratch here and there is to be expected.
But the heart knows better than the mind,
for her wounds are still licking themselves,
whimpering as thoughts of you pretentiously prance upon them.
I get drunk off those thoughts.
and then blind.
and then vulnerable,
as your words unlock a secret door I could have sworn I told no one about
Imploring that I "drink" you, as if i haven't already been drunk off of you for years.
foolish foolish mind of mine
and foolish heart too,
looking through that door, not recognizing
the reflection of a fantasy its own rhythm had written.
Falling victim to a fabricated romance between
my heart's desire and my mind's relentless entrapment.
Your words,
the claws that make it impossible for me to escape.
A scratch here and there is to be expected.
and suddenly, time repeats itself
and that crooked doorway, once again, begins to resemble paradise.

And she ran as fast as she could
Down the street
Lit by the tall, towering trees of light
As the crisp fall breeze whispered across her cheeks
She had to hide it
For what was in her hands
Was not a possession of her own
It twinkles and rekindles itself in her palms
The brightest burning star in the universe is hers to keep
It belongs to no one
Now that she has it in her damp, trembling, palms.
“This is my future”
She hummed into the night air
As the brothers of her hidden treasure
Continued to lead the way for her.
“This is my future,”
She sang as her pace quickened
And stardust flew from her hands
Like the softest sand floating
As if in slow motion
To another destination.
It lit up the trail she left behind
Concealing her past with a brighter future.
Today was the day she learned how to fly!
She finally untethered her wings
And reached for the moon;
And it happened,
Just like they always said it would,
Despite her fears
And mistrust in her passions,
Despite everyone telling her “no”
And suffocating her aspirations with their words,
Despite all of it
She was able to land amongst the stars.
And she’s finally doing it.
She’s finally living
The way it was meant to be.
By feeling It all.