I wish I could tell you all the things that make me small and cloud my vision with too much dark. I long to tear the words from my throat, to cast light onto the syllables that cause my heart to flounder.


I have cried a million tears since the day of my passing, none of which have begun to erode the stone in which my fears are set. They are chiseled too deeply into the lonely tomb that holds my sometime smile.


I wish I could tell you of all the things that make me small, I wish I could share my darkest dreaming and not fear the cloud of judgement that will settle upon your brow as it steals my breath and breaks my heart.


I can only love you and hope that it's enough.

The tide charged in deeply, taking all that was never there for the asking.
Desecrated sanctity let flow scarlet rivers while the moon tied her tongue and the sand dried her tears.
A heaven of weeping constellations dimmed as she rose, this shaken child, silent and mourning, her innocence torn and bloodied by this fierce current that knew not her name.
She wept a tear of farewell, her eyes faded in acceptance of a fate once warned. Stumbling, ragged, once hallowed now hollow, she dared not ask why of the moonlit wind as it blew her homeward, to be forever the keeper of secrets.

Destroyed am I?
I cannot tell
For when I loved you
My heart would swell

Broken am I?
That's a lie
For when I loved you
I never did cry

Lost am I?
That's not the truth
For when I was with you
My passion took root

Angry am I?
No,I liked the allure
But I also learnt that I deserve more

stymied,
i sit in the library
surrounded by words
but ....yet
               nothing of worth
comes to me....
instead i write this missive
all the while knowing....
it is the drivel of a mind
confounded....stumped
....run dry...

it occurs to me...i write
more of the act of putting
pen to paper,
than aught else at present

and that i well may be
caught in a meta maze
of my own making....

i feel my wells have run dry
and what i write here and now
is but mud and slime scraped from the murky depths.....

i excuse this muck  as the product of a long year....
not enough time
distractions of the
overly emotional type

but am secretly scared
that i have come to the
end of my ink
that i will succumb to
poesis nullaris
and not ever write
                                    again....

or worse....write
dreck, drivel, and bad rhyme

stymied......
                 stymied
whispers the gnome within
my ear...

The problem is I do like him.
I certainly hate him
But I also like him.
I like the way he capitalizes the beginnings of his sentences over text,  I like the cute little crinkles that appear in his forehead when he smiles
The coy way he responds to flirtation with something like "Oh really now?"
I like how he calls things "sweet", the way he says "aww" I even f!cking like his annoying as hell overuse of the phrase "haha" when he texts which ****** me off,
I like how he is the only teenaged boy I know who says something is "quite" fun and how he uses the word "lovely" to describe things because no one uses that word anymore and more people should.
I like how he has an immense love for Spiderman,
How he has all these aspirations of travelling all over in the future
I like how he wants to live in England one day, I like that he is into cooking and drinks coffee and hot chocolate and how his favorite book is "Looking for Alaska" and how he's read everyone of John Green's books and how he wants to be a writer one day.
I just remember the dumbest little things that I still like about him
For instance how he likes Neil Gaiman and loud screamy music even though I hate that stuff, how he is the only one in his fractured family who doesn't speak French but his older sister and mother do. He has a dog named Charlie and when he was a kid he always spelled "subtle" wrong. I just don't know *** is wrong with me I should have known better. I should hate him for half this stuff and all the rest of the reasons I have to loathe him but it's hard to forget those little details about him. I just hate feeling like a broken lock. A lock of dark secrets and completely irrepairable. Though it's not the fact that Im irrepairable that bothers me as much as feeling so... replaceable. Idk. Maybe I need to go out with someone to get him out of my head.

I thank God for the little things
Like the smile of a child
The hope a new day can bring to a lost soul.
The feel of a warm fuzzy blanket on a cold winter's eve.

I thank God for the little things
Like being able to lend a helping hand
The smell of fresh cut pine on Christmas day.
The beauty of a sunrise shared by lovers.

I thank God for the little things.
Like moments of silence when time seems to stand still.
The sensation of crisp morning air gently caressing my cheek.
And how faith can guide us through the storm.

I thank God for the little things.
A smile or hello from a stranger
Kindness shown without any expectation of return
Love given even by a broken heart.

I thank God for the little things
The ability to see the beauty all around
To watch a bird soar through the sky
To accept blessings each day, hope and pray that they will never just pass you by.