Weave me into what you like, dream-maker.
Fill me with your unavoidable heat death;
smother me in warmth and ashes.
Paint me all your brilliant colors,
all your blues and reds and golds.
Twist me into impossible designs;
mold me into something new.
Make me, dream-maker,
and take me away
from those who don't like
who I am today.

You will not control me.
You will not control me.
You will not control me.

But you will compel me

to write you into my lines
to lock your image into my mind
to think about you all the time.

You will not change me.
You will not change me.
You will not change me.

But you will shape me

into what I am meant to be
into a better me
into a soul that is free.

You will not leave me.
You will not leave me.
You will not leave me.

But you will.

Reach for the stars!
If you try,
good things
will be found there!

That’s what everyone tells me.

And so I stretch my arms
towards the heavens above,
and yet,
all I grab
is air.

These bobber and blueberry plaid sheets
don’t seem as sleek as they once were.
I don’t think I washed them last week.

A put-together person
really ought to wash their sheets
at least once a month
because wrinkles and stains
don’t just take care of themselves.

Didn’t our mother raise us better?
I ask the neatly put together bed
that silently sleeps beside mine.

Although, I suppose,
the ticking of the clock
is the only answer I’ve got
anymore.

That bed only stares,
always stares.

That bed is done in purples and reds
and I always said it could use
a dash of black or white.
And when it won’t sleep at night,
I flip its radio on
and I keep country going,
even though I can change it
to play anything that I like.

The radio sits on an empty dresser
next to a bare table now,
one that I really should dust.
You’d be surprised how much collects
when no one stores
deodorant and lip gloss there.

A long gaze
into my lover's eyes
reveals full moons
and shooting stars
that hypnotize.

These electric stares
shoot searing sparks
that zap and zip
and melt me down
into a work of art.

You say that you love me.
You say that you care.
I thought that the pastures
between us
were gentle and fair.

When I gaze
into your eyes,
I see the truth,
the awful truth
you try to hide.

Love,
your eyes
are cold
and dead inside.

Birds chirp
and bees buzz.
You left
and I miss
what was.

Frogs leap
and flowers bloom.
You took my happiness
and left only gloom.

Wind whispers
and silence echos.
You'll never came back,
but I miss you so.

I remember when you called to say
that you were planting a garden today.
My excitement for you was pure and true
and we knew there was much to do
before life could grow properly
in your garden hideaway.

I watched you sprinkle water down
from your watering can
and spread fertilizer across
the soil of your young plant,
making sure it had all the nutrients
needed to live.

You tended lovingly to your seedling,
singing it songs
and weeding out all harmful things.

We called her Peanut.

You were so proud.

I was with you the day Peanut was no more.
Your garden was no longer full of life.
Nothing grew there.
Your carefully weeded soil did nothing
to stop this from happening.

I now watch you look at the empty seed packets
while you think of your empty garden
and the pretty things that should have grown there.
You were a good gardener,
but apparently your thumb wasn’t green enough
to keep the fates from
ripping your plant out of the earth.

I remember when you called to say
that you were planting a garden,
but I wish you didn't.

Hurray, hurray!
There's a party today,
one that celebrates
your special birthday!

I'll invite all your friends
and we'll party 'til ten
(I would if you had them...
So you don't, then?)!

I'll decorate your hallways
with streamers and balloons.
Your house will be festive,
though you may just keep to your room.

I'll bake you a glorious cake,
complete with your favorite frosting,
even though you know the cake that I bake
will be eaten singularly by you.

I'll buy you a proper present
and wrap it with care
and you'll start to cry
as the wrapping paper tears.

I'll march through your sadness
(It's quite selfish, really)
and sing Happy Birthday to you
while I look at you with pity.

You're alone on your birthday
and no one is to blame.
At least this day is only a day
and tomorrow brings a day
that isn't your lonely birthday.

You are a juice box.
I am the bent straw
That stabs into you
That leaves you
Hollow.

Bench.
Book.
Breeze.

Sunlight
       peeking
through
       the
trees.

You and I
high in a tree,
happy as
two birds could be,

but the bough breaks
but the bough breaks
but the bough breaks

and so do I.

Once upon a time,
there lived a happy girl.
She smiled at all
and brought joy to the world.

But then she got older
and chemicals reacted in her mind.
The dark thoughts that plagued her
made it hard to be kind.

She still wore a smile,
but that smile was just for show.
The feelings locked inside her
continued to fester and grow.

She stayed in her tower
and vowed never to come down.
Who could ever love a girl
whose smile wore a frown?

Doomed to live in her own gloom
and sure she should be alone,
she sat in silence and in darkness
even when around her bright lights shone.

Sometimes she thinks she really should
get up and join the fray once more,
but the energy it takes to do so
keeps her rooted to the floor.

She wishes she were surrounded by dragons
so that a handsome knight in armor
would steadfastly slay them,
for that would be simpler.

Who knows how to save a girl
from herself?

Surely not her.

Caution:
contents under
pressure.

I can’t take this anymore.

Do not expose
to extreme
heat.

Please keep away from me.

May cause
temporary
blindness.

Why didn’t I see this coming?

I am a sunrise in your eyes and at times,
that makes me green.
I see only red
and sometimes shades of muted gray
when I look at others,
but those colors don't suit you.

A sunrise would suit you,
but I cannot make myself see it.

Instead I see a twilight sky,
riddled with stars,
yet still dark.
If you surround me,
I can't be seen.

If I can convince myself
to believe in the sunrise that you are,
your light will finally banish the darkness
and I'll hide no more.

That frightens me
more than I can say.

Rain pounds down on a window,
pain clear for all to hear.

Let me in!
Hear my words!
*If you would just come outside…

I am a doer of things.
I do the best I can at doing
and given due time,
things get done.

I am a sayer of things.
I knit words together;
I am famous for my
sprawling I'm Sorry scarves.

I am a dreamer of things.
I hold onto a hope and a wish
with both hands,
even if those things are invisible.

I am a fixer of things.
I kiss it all better
and glue pieces together
after I have been
a breaker of things.

I’m feeling the need to go solo.*

Fly free.*
(Please don’t forget me.)

Twinkle twinkle, my little star.
Your beauty is both near and far.
Near, because you are in sight,
but yours is such a far off light.

I've wished upon you a thousand times
and put you in a hundred rhymes.
I've dreamed that you were next to me,
but some things are not meant to be.

Calm, unmoving, silent,
you are still.
Sitting, patient, waiting,
you are still.
I still envy the stillness
that you possess.

There are always the haves
and the have-nots.
I once thought I was a member
of the have-nots,
but I had not considered
that I do have you.

I am the girl that is called a fool,
the ever hopeful dandelion.
I am the dreamer, the feeler, the lover.
The girl that dances with the moon
and colors outside of the lines?
Yes, she is me and I am her.

I'll shake your hand and
smile warmly at you
because it is so great to meet you,
but we both know that true meetings
happen later when our souls
finally say hello to each other.

A projection of pure light
crackling with energy
and waves of happiness,
you are almost too good to be true.
If I did not know better,
I'd think you were some sort of hologram.

I live my life,
but I feel it, too.
Emotions are my life blood
and you, my dear,
are keeping this darling girl
alive.

Stop
trying.
Abscond at long last;
you have already disappeared.

Yearning to be someone's
One
Under all circumstances

Has to be
A tough job and still you
Valiantly commit to
Each and every feeling you have

Against your brain's demands.

Logic has never been known to bring
Order to the longing soul, though it still
Vies for sole control of
Everything that you are,
Lovely little heart--but
You know that.

Liking and loving are not one
In the same,
Though sometimes the brain
Tries to convince the
Lovely little heart otherwise.
Enough is enough.

Hearts feel what they feel.
Eventually, you will find that there is
Always and forever
Room for your lovely little heart
To stay beside my little longing heart.

It is often said that
a picture is worth
a thousand words
but no one ever mentions
how your kiss
leaves me with
no words.

The wind colors your cheeks
the way I only dream of doing.

It dances through your hair
the way I itch to with my fingers.

It whispers lovingly in your ear
the way I hope to one day soon.

It gently caresses your beautiful face
the way my hands were meant to.

If only I could borrow
some of the wind's
luck.

A sigh on my lips,
a crick in my neck,
and still I can’t get
my emotions in check.

A young thudding heart,
a wide winning grin,
and still I can’t say
if you should come in.