He told me that he didn’t like his smile.
“It’s too big,” he said.
But little does he know that a smile like his
could light up an arena.

He told me that he didn’t like his voice.
“It sounds weird on tape,” he said.
But little does he know that a voice like his
could engage the toughest of crowds.

He told me that he didn’t like his laugh.
“It’s loud and obnoxious,” he said.
But little does he know that a laugh like his
could spread as if it were an infection.

He told me that he liked me.
“I want to be with you,” he said.
But little does he know that someone like him
could do so much better than someone like me.

I’m not the same girl
I used to be.
Then again, maybe I am
the same,
and it’s everyone
and everything else
that’s different.
Maybe I’m just not adapting
to the changes in my environment.
Maybe I’m still the
idealistic twelve year old
who read romance novels
and ate ice cream while watching Titanic.
Maybe I’m still the
anorexic fourteen year old
who smiled when the number on the scale dropped
and cried when it didn’t.
Maybe I’m still the
ambitious sixteen year old,
striving to put her life back together
and get laid before prom.
(Without much success, of course.)
Maybe I’m still the
infatuated seventeen year old
who fell madly in love with a geeky college boy,
only to get her heart broken.
Maybe I’m just
an eighteen year old basket case
who drinks too much
and smokes too much
and ***** random boys (and girls)
with all the lights off
because she hates her body just as much when she’s drunk
as she does when she’s sober.
Maybe I have changed.
Maybe I never will.
Maybe in the end,
however soon or far off that may be,
I’ll look back and laugh
at my complete and utter stupidity
and inability
to stop thinking and just start
living.
Maybe I’m already dead inside
and just waiting for my body to follow.

I don't intend to leave you all behind,
but I’m beginning to think I already have.

“I can’t read your mind,” you say,
as if it's a bad thing.
If you could read my mind,
you would no longer look at me
with those adoring eyes of yours.
You wouldn’t make me breakfast
or hold my hand
or call me beautiful.
You probably wouldn’t call me
at all.
And I wouldn’t blame you.
If you could read my mind,
you’d see the darkness,
the hatred.
My kindness,
my innocence,
my “adorable” exterior
are works of fiction.
My heart is bitter and cold.
I am not “kind,”
by any means.
I may love you,
but you’re one of few.
Just be thankful
that you can’t read my mind.

Poems are stupid
like that boy I thought I liked
but he kinda ******

I sit here under this shady tree.
Looking as the world passes by me..
Alone in this world.. Crying alone..
Seeing the world all by my self..

I sit as the world passes by like a painting capturing each scene..
Setting in stone in my mind...
Alone.. In this world..

A shadow has join the circle..
What an odd boy..
His bright dazzling green eyes look at my eyes with such life..

Sketchily the odd stranger speaks
"would....-would you like to play.. with me..?"
My dull eyes raise from the ground... with a slow nod.. of a yes.

Two strangers...
Two odd creatures...
Clasp hands together...
Two worlds slowly clashing together.. Melting to create one..
Creating one being... one soul..

A deep breath taken by a gust of wind.
We are here, by the shady tree.
In hand and hand, Looking at the autumn leaves blow in the breeze around us..
Those summers... we laughed and played..
Love and grew..
Time has flown...
Since those lonely days..

A new beginning has painted over the world just for us..
Cracks of light gently shine in the gaping holes of the trees colorful leaves.
Beams of light mark the shadow of the tree..    

Tick. Tick... Time slowly washing away all of us...
We meet here again...
Stumbling on the hill where the grim tree lays.
So much life in such an old tree..
Those summers grow dim..
For I am to week to see the painted and sculpted world.

Our face has grown of wrinkles.
Smiling to each other..
Shaking in each other hand..
We walk under the dim blue skies...

The green leaves swirl around us as I take one last twirl...
One last step..
One last grasp of feeling..

A Weak smile grasp my lips..
I turn my head slowly.. only to see my caring husband by my side..
I whisper in a faint sweet, musk voice..
"Thank-you darling for seeing the world with me....breathe... I... I love you..."
A smile fades to a still lip..
A beat of a heart music stops..

I die... On the summer day
When our worlds intertwined..
And soon the world grows still...
Our initials carved in the crocked wood of the old shady tree..

The bless tree now old and dim..
Sits on the brown hill growing old..
Protecting our worlds..
The broken tree..
Still treasures the love we cherished all these years..
In the summer days...

i awoke to the sound of my steady breathing
the house is silent
and everything is at peace during this moment.
there is no "i have to do this" or "i have to get that"
it is just this moment
where time seems to have stood still
and the only sound
is that of my steady breathing
reminding me to slow down every once in a while

THERE IS EMPTINESS IN ALL OF US
YOU CAN HEAR THEM
TALKING ABOUT PASSION
DISGUSTING PROFESSIONS
BUT REALLY –
FEELING NOTHING BUT EMPTINESS

YOU CAN SEE THEM
NO HUNGRY MEN EATING CONTINUALLY –
CAUSE IT’S MEANT TO BE
MEANT TO TASTE
MEANT TO FILL

BODIES.FACES.LIPS.FEED.
PICTURED AND POSTED –
MEANING NOTHING BUT EMPTINESS

I SAY „I DON’T WANT TO BE LIKE THAT”
AND YOU TELL YOURSELF THE SAMEE, MAYBE

WHAT IT REALLY MEANS IS THAT
LIFE IS FILLED IN AN EMPTY BOTTLE OF WINE, FOR ALL OF US
NO MATTER HOW YOU TWIST IT, IT WON’T CHANGE IT’S PATTERN
MAYBE IT SHOWS YOU SOMETHING, MAYBE NOT
TAKE IT FOR GRANTED
EMPTINESS IS IN ALL OF US.

Once upon a time, this guy I knew
fell for me and I fell for him, too.
We talked all day and sometimes all night.
Soon enough I loved him with all of my might.
I learned his favorite color and the size of his shoe,
his favorite book, movie, and rock band, too.
I told him things I'd never said before.
We had those fights about who loves who more.
He'd sing me songs when I couldn't sleep.
He'd hold me when I was sad and just let me weep.
He would remember even the smallest of things
like how I dreamt of being an angel with beautiful wings.
He'd take me on long walks, holding my hand.
He made me feel like I was flying and never would land.
He made all of the colors look so much lighter.
It was as if the sun was shining ten times brighter.
He'd give me his jacket whenever I got cold.
He told me he'll love me when I get old.
I promised him our differences would never tear us apart.
He alone holds the single key to my heart.
It's crazy to think we began as just friends.
Hopefully, my love, this never does end.