My words,
Have a lot more to say than you think.
My poems,
Have hidden feelings in them.
My outside,
It's not all that I have.
I have a inside too.
And every word,
Every poem of mine,
Is the same as I.

Her puffed pink lips wrapped
around the **** of her freshly lit cigarette,
hollowing her cheeks and sinking her eyes
as if death breathed her in and exhaled her out
as the smoke billowed out her nose
like an early 1950’s ad for Camel.
Her blue eyes were never opened all they way,
the black lashes heavy from the piling layers of mascara
she never washed off and under-eyes caked
with a yellow-orange tint that sat deep
into her sinking wrinkles, but the way her painted lips
kissed that cigarette made my heart yearn for a faster beat.
In and out, death bathed in her every breath until
nothing but the brown paper, stamped with her lipstick,
remained. Her ******* opened,
the cigarette still coughing up smoke as the toe
of her battered converse pressed it against the earth.
She waits a moment, looking out into
the busy streets of the city, until the itching of her fingers
is too much and she leans into her bag to pull out another one.
Through her heavy lashes, peaking over the basin under her eyes,
between the strands of her golden bangs
shown two bloodshot ponds that swallowed me whole.
The voice that snaked from her lips enticed me,
it sounded shattered and homely, rough and soothing,
as she leaned in and whispered
“Got a light?"

do you ever get in one of those moods where you just want to punch holes in the walls to match the sizes of the ones in your chest and you want to scream until your vocal chords burn as intensely as your longing to be anywhere but here and your eyes will not stop allowing your emotions to flow from your tear ducts and you are so broken and you cannot seem to fix yourself no matter how hard you try yet you have to just shove the tightness in your throat away and pretend like you are okay and I just don’t know how to do this anymore

He's damaged,
               Unfixable it seems
What others would call
                  nightmares
       Are his sweetest dreams
                And sometimes
  He takes his emotions
                               to
                            extremes
       It's so blatantly obvious
  When he finally
           breaks down
                    And screams
That the world
          brought him to his knees

                  He's a broken spirit.
       And I just don't know
   If my love
              can mend his soul
Or if my broken pieces
        Are enough to make
                                      him
                  ­                      whole.
       And if I use what
                       little I have left
To put him back together
                Won't that just
                                  leave me
      In a shattered pile of emotions
                   *forever?

Stars can only be seen in darkness,
A wealthy foundation has nothing to do with greatness,
Love is not completely selfless,
The journey to heaven is not painless.

Nothing is is actually valueless,
the boldest isn't completely fearless,
death doesn't always mean one is breathless,
And Judges are often truthless.

Denial might be an act of pureness,
Rejection a show of kindness,
Speaking up attimes can be senseless,
And a hug does not always represent oneness.

A soldiers retreat doesn't always mean weakness,
An enemy's surrender might be smartness,
A woman's smile may not be happiness,
A child's determination might be born out of emptiness.

Marraige vows are usually baseless,
We are alive because our hearts are restless,
Scientists are mostly clueless,
Psycologists usually feel helpless.

Caring for the poor might be termed madness,
But many wealthy are now homeless,
And even if we're not treated with fairness,
You and i are definitely priceless.