We continue to lie to ourselves thinking
We're a bright star in another's constellation
At least I do

I think too much
My hopes have a mind of their own and
They enjoying raising without reason
I keep too much to myself
A blessing and a curse
I wish you knew me the way I knew me
But I honestly think that maybe
I don't know me

This keeps happening
Without a rhyme or reason
At least I think this is true
But keep in mind I think too much
The cloud above my head is gaining color
The burdens
shoving their ankles into my shoulders
They don't care if I'm hurting
And neither do you

This poem *****
I don't write like I used to
Maybe that's where I'm going wrong
Life was good at the peak of my writing
Life was simpler
That was when I was that bright star
And now I'm not
And the words don't spill out like they did
Not anymore

If I'm not a bright star
Maybe I'm swirling around with other stars
With dimmer stars
Maybe I'm just a speck of dust
Maybe I'm not even in view

If I don't know me
How do I expect for you to know me
It's a ridiculous request
But my heart and hopes don't think so
I'm not going to beg for your attention
But please
That's all I ask

Why aren't I visible in your sky

I never thought that
after our lips had touched
And our palms recognized each other
Your palm would
be reaching for something else
Your palm kissed the back
of your cell phone
While you wrote out those words
I'm hoping you'll regret
I never thought that after
my heart called for yours
And yours called for mine
After I felt your smile
to be a comforting safe zone
You were comfortable to stab the back
You used to yearn to hold
The way you were
And the way you are
Were never the same
and never shall be
I never thought that
after you burned my trust
I would be lying alone
within cold sheets
Wondering which man you really were

My dear
We can wake up to our tired eyes
To begin our day off right
We can giggle at our slurred voices
That still live within our throats
After drinking ourselves sick
the night before
We can dance like idiots
My dear
I'll be sniffling from the chilling atmosphere
Your laughter will be my medicine
My dear
I can see you all of my days
My dear

He felt like an old photograph
Sparking the idea of a distant consciousness
And a memorable ambition

His eyes were a wonder to wake up next to
They were soft and sweet and comforting
With an indescribable air of mystery

I watched the way he watched people
He would study them with an open mind
Or with a heavy heart

I longed to be the song he moved to
When he had passion in those sweet eyes
I longed to be the reason he moved

I’ll look off in the distance
with glazed over eyes
hoping you’ll notice me to be
as bright & beautiful as the sun.
I’ll make clever yet ridiculous remarks
hoping you’ll find me odd yet lovely
as a flower you’d never seen before.
I’ll laugh a bit loud & a bit high
hoping you’ll replay my melody
when you’re lonely.
I’m hoping you find the things I do
& the way I am to be
wonderfully different & will cause you to be wonderfully curious about me.
I’m hoping what you discover
in the caves of my soul I’d buried deep
will be sweet somethings you long to hold on to.

I long to hold on to you.
I find you wonderfully different.

Does that make me defective
to crave the life of a young girl
chasing dangerous indulgence?

Wishing I was screaming with laughter
hanging halfway outside a car window
potentially toxic substances rolled tight
and held stiff between my fingers,
Singing along to the melodies of
my favorite song through a grainy stereo,
Driving without a physical destination
but a mental destination
of joy and acceptance
and true happiness,
Intertwining with the soul of
maybe a significant other
but maybe just a friend in need of
the same type of love I needed that night,
Needing love like it was herion
and being addicted to the idea of freedom
like it was ****.
But we stayed away from drugs like those,
that's why we craved them.
That's why we drove for hours
with nowhere to go.

Does it make me defective
to crave the life of a young girl
chasing dangerous indulgence?

I’m calling your name for an answer,
some kind of sign to show me
everything will be alright.
Your eyes whisper a melody to me
every time I swim in them.
I lose myself in our past
and the thought of our future.
I wonder what I mean to you
on the cold nights
you’re not next to me
and if you’re wondering about me too.
There’s something
so beautiful about admiration,
how a touch
can spin your world around.
To let someone in
that could bend your universe
& shatter it to pieces is a risk
but I’m only hoping that
when everything has turned to dust
that you’ll have shown me it was worth it.

Quite often when I’m writing,
my pen thinks of you,
just like I often do.
Your name spills out of its ink and your soul
is soon splattered on my pages.
Splattered because its too beautiful
for my ink to comprehend.
It can’t understand how one being
could arise a smile on my face without
doing a single thing.
And neither can I.

Time is moving so quickly now.

It’s been three weeks
and we haven’t breathed
a word to each other.
I wonder if you still think about me.


To be honest if I knew that opportunity to kiss you would’ve been our last
I would’ve kissed you
a thousand times.

I never gave you a birthday gift
and I’ll always feel guilty for that.

The way you present yourself now
makes me want
to throw a brick at you.
Or at least
build a brick wall between us
so I don’t have to witness it.
I’m sending you one giant “*******” laced with kisses and I hope you embrace it like an old friend.

I’ll always feel like I was once yours.
I’ll always be yours
as long as you’re always a part of me.
And you are.

It’s strange to look back
at all these beautiful words
I wrote to you,
Half of which you’ll never see.

I’ve thought of putting them
in a book for you,
the way kids place leaves in books
to preserve them.
I’ve thought of preserving
our memories that way.
But then I thought for a while that
you wouldn’t want them,
That they’d collect dust in the back of a closet or under a bed.

The same bed your delicate heartbeat will lay upon to seek refuge each night.

But then I thought
they’d collect dust anyway,
whether you wanted them or not.

Because words are just words,
aren’t they?

Words and actions don’t always
go hand in hand.
Maybe I were words
& you were actions.

Maybe that’s why we no longer
go hand in hand.