Has it always been this bad?
This unfair
This unjust
Is this worse than it's ever been?

Or am I just old enough to see it now?

I want that
Gorgeous bookish moment
With you

I want to sit on the roof
Of a cozy important house
Under the stars
Having... god knows what
Kind of deep discussion
(Though it may have been had a million times before,
this time it's ours)

I want to see you
Silhouetted by the light
Of the moon
While your expressions contort
As you share a heartfelt story
With me
(That you think I don't know)

I want to be comforted
By you
Even if it uncomfortable
On the rough rooftop
When you think,
Wow she needs a hug
(Because I do
If it's from you)

I want to see
Your eyes glow
Brilliant in the darkness
When you emphasize a point
Staring at me
Feeling the strength of our
Connection
(Even if it's guided by
The general ambiance)

I want to hear
The breeze sing
With your words
Their importance far from lost
Sending shivers down my spine
As you lean intently
Into or toward me

Just kiss me
Please
Under that night sky
Knowing well
That just one kiss
Changed everything for us
Please

I just
Want
To fall in love
With my best friend

But I'm scared
Of the consequences
And how
It would affect
The other people
I hold dear

-----------------------------------------------------------­

I've never been
One to have
Crushes
In fact
I always thought
Myself weird
For that very same
Reason

Until I met you
That is
Until I fell for you
I no longer
Thought myself weird

What is weird
However
Is our double helix dance
Of flirtation
And friendship

Constantly either moving
Toward each other
Or away
Drawn together
Or apart

It's so weird
To me
That I still keep
Crushing
On you
For its entirely
New
Yet so
Old

Hopefully soon
Our dance can end
And we can
Just be honest
With ourselves
With each other
And finally kiss
In the middle

Shout out to the fact
that I wrote my D&D character
to be everything
I've ever wanted
I've ever hoped for
I've ever imagined
for myself

Now I'm quite literally
living vicariously through her
and finding myself wishing
for what she has
rather mourning what I don't

It's probably not healthy
how invested in her I am
how obsessed
how utterly disappointed I am
that I'm not really her
I want to be her

I wrote a poem
       about you
       for you
That you are never going
to read at its full capacity
because it's a love song
       about you
       for you
that encapsulated everything
I loved (love) about you
and your magnificent mind

I could redact the
I love you
parts, but it wouldn't read the same
Maybe someday
I'll dump it on your doorstep
and see if you can guess
who it's from
about or for

Life is multiple games of palace
You do the best you can
with the hand you're dealt
and it all comes down to
the three cards face down in front of you

Some say palace is game of luck
but I'd argue there's more to it
there is strategy in how you
set yourself up to succeed

Only you can put yourself
in the best possible position
to deal with those buried cards in front of you

Sometimes those cards are 3's and 4's,
if you're lucky they'll be 2's or K's
but you won't know until you have to flip them

Othertimes the odds are against you
the best way to combat a poor hand is more strategy.
Unfortunately, strategies aren't always easy to find
the more you practice, the better you get.

Eventually, you'll know and perfect them all.
With all the strategies up your sleeve,
statistics would say your odds of winning are the highest
While it's still possible you may fail, the likelihood
is so much lower.

Life is like multiple games of palace.
You may not know the cards face down in front of you,
but after perfecting the strategies
the likelihood of you winning is so very high

Enjoy it while you can
      they say
These next 4 years are going to fly by
      and they did

-Join a club
-Do an internship
-Make friends
-Write a resume, cover letter
-Fall in love
-Apply for jobs
-Do something crazy
-Build your professional portfolio
-Socialize for hours
-Find a grad school
       they say "it's the college experience"

Is it the college experience to feel
Underappreciated and Overworked?
Elated and Devastated?
Accomplished and Incompetent?

It never feels like it's enough
      no, I never feel like I'm enough
I've spent hours staring at a screen
Either in class or at home, it doesn't matter
I scrolled through so many blogposts and jobposts
Applied to countless positions and internships
All for nothing

"What's the best way to do college?"
      is the question I'm constantly asking myself
      and anyone who will listen that might have the answers
"What am I doing wrong?"
      how can so many people have accomplished so much
      before I've even made a name for myself

my 21 credit semester
my double major
my additional minor
my 6 semesters of straight A's
my 2-year executive board position
my part-time minimum wage job
Were they all not enough? What am I doing wrong?
Why can't I find even an unpaid internship?

Despite my exhaustive efforts,
      and I do mean exhaustive, full burn-out
I still see people
people who have done way less, tried way less
with full rides, wonderful internships and jobs right out of college.

None of it is fair.

And I have nothing to show for it.

So has this just been 4 wasted years?

What can I make of myself in the real world,
with nothing to show for my college career?

I wish I could think of
the right way to say
I love you...

It's like there's no possibility.
My vocabulary is far too limited
  The love I feel is far too complex
              And I am far too unimaginative
to give you something that hasn't been
Said a million times.

      you would certainly find a way -
      youve always been fantastic at words
      and i wish i could borrow
      some of your genius...

Every combination
Every language
Every time I try
I can't figure it out

You have made me feel like...
Like the solar system revolves around me
Like death could never take my life
Like I know the Name of the wind

      ... no ... i can do better
      i want to keep trying
      i need to keep trying because
      if i cant figure it out
      im going to implode

You deserve a special
I love you.

      something to mimic the special
      you make me feel every day
      i yearn to give you that
      so bear with me while i paint you
      a written picture instead and
      hope it can convey some semblance of
      i love you:
------------------------------------------------------------­
You are a city.
And that city, in my head,
Looks a little like... well

it's under constant construction, the
scaffolding where you expand
the buildings - your knowledge.
and despite what you might think
it's a comforting presence

between them run roads, so many intersections
all leading to different interests
but those streets have potholes - your past
experiences - and there isn't enough tar in the world to fill them.
not that it matters, because your traffic never stops and the
streets are never still; potholes and all

zipping around on those roads are cars
that get you from point A to point B - your responsibilities,
when you really need to stop for gas. it's admirable
how dedicated to those pit stops you are, and
that you still really love driving

fortunately, despite pollution - the toxicity dumped
by other people - your city is still eco-friendly. you wanted
fresh air, so on each building you install solar panels - you
never sit back and let people ruin the world

so people sit on their porches and listen to music you pipe
through the city streets, via loudspeakers you installed
because you want people to enjoy themselves - and they
absolutely love it. they show their appreciation through
smiles and laughter. how could they not? nothing can compare

In your city
I want to be a window washer
                      a maintenance woman
                      a taxi driver
                      a gas station attendee
                      an ecologist
                      a musician
I want to be someone involved with all you are.

You're a constant inspiration
So call me selfish, but I relish just being around you
And lavish that I get to be special to you

You deserve more than these simple three words
but for the sake of concision - your favorite, I know -
I'll simply say
I love you

I love you so much
in my heart of hearts
Know that.

One of my greatest fears is losing you
and sometimes I feel the time has come
      too much distance
      too many differences
that you're ready to leave

Not many things make me
     as sad as that does
Very few things bring me tears
     like that does

If I could make you feel
the physical sensation of
I love you -  I would.
It's visceral

I feel my heart warm up
knot in my chest
and in my throat
butterflies in my stomach
and tingles on my skin
Only just begin to explain it

I love you
with every fiber of being
Please
don't give up on me

What was the last thing we did
together?
as a family?

I genuinely can't remember
and it breaks my heart
like our broken family.

Was it baseball on the television
sitting together in the living room?
Was it dinner at the table - no
it's been years since we've done that.


Come to think about it,
maybe TV dinners were the wedge.

Dad traveled for work
every week we'd see him 2 days.
Mom got her masters
and ran the house, working full-time.
I... I was too lost in the tidal wave of high school
too blind to see what was happening. Until-

Freshman year of college I felt it. Without me
there was nothing to reconcile mom
as she fell out of love and into independence.
Plus dad was out of work and at home, of course
that only caused the boiling *** to overflow. Now-

Dad's all alone
         and
Mom took the cat
         and
I'm living 9 hours away from both

the house goes on the market in January
but mom moves out in December
and in January I need to apartment sit the cat
while mom travels for work

I.
HATE.
CHANGE.

change you
change me
change us
it changes everyone

change here
change now
change time
change place
it changes everything

Just ******* change it all
I don't ******* care
It's just everything
I've ever known

No matter what I do
it always comes
and changes
changes
changes

i
hate
   goodbyes
  and
  i
hate
  change

People are like Pokemon
and I'm the trainer.
This time it's my story
being played by 7.8 billion people

Unfortunately,
I appear to have broken
a max repel in my backpack
and everyone keeps
leaving, fleeing or disappearing

I guess I'll catch the few
that stick around anyways

He knows I'm a poet
Not just because I told him
but in my cadence.

Conversations through a screen
I've seen your pictures but not your face
and you mine.
But we talk like old friends
and you make me genuinely laugh.
It's more then puffs of exhaled air
actual sounds.

"you have a way of speaking I like"
he said
"I'm crazy interested in something you wrote"
he said
"oh no"
I said
"It's not my best"
I said
"best or not "
he said and I blushed

A man who cares
Is all I've ever wanted

Oh what a wonderful thing
to not only hear each other
but understand

~ My wonderful, beautiful and lovely boyfriend

You seem to be infatuated with it.
To you, the picture in your hand
is perfect and infallible.

I'm sorry to inform you,
your picture is faded
and torn around the edges.

It can be hard to see, unless
you pull it from the shadow
then hold it to the light,

but there's imperfection everywhere.
Sun spots and water marks
cover bits of the figure in the frame.

It really isn't worth as much as you thought,

but I hope you'll consider keeping it.
It looks good hung up on your wall.

I'm sorry to disappoint you.

He asked if he could call me,
at 2:00 am
His words a plea
for me

and I was worried it was bad news.

All my past experience with calls,
at 2:00am
I usually bawl
for ****** ******* calls

but this was different.

He made me smile,
at 2:00am
The only 15 minutes we had to revel
etched on my skin a smile
when he said,
"I just wanted to hear your voice, and say goodnight"

Call me naive.
Blinded by a honeymoon phase
and sickly sweet jest

Because I want to keep
this blindfold
pulled down over my eyes.

I don't want to know
what time it is—
day or night, stars and light —
but this comfort
wraps my body and glues me to my bed.

He likes me
He likes me, not
the me I always try and hide behind
but the me that's real.

And he's honey sweet
and golden feat,
how I managed to find him
I'll never know.

He tells me once
twice and again, actually,
that they couldn't have made
a better half for him in a lab
if they had tried.

I'd lift my blindfold to see
you and your gorgeous honey blue eyes
shining through the dark like a moon,
and what we bake together
might just be the most delicious cake maybe ever.

If my words were sugar
I could have told him then
and there, his lips on mine
tasted sweet.
Like everything he says to me.

But I'm bad at baking cakes with no sugar
and all the store had was keyboards and pens
so I wrote him this instead;

To my perfect other half,
Each joke you make resounds
laugh for laugh, I sculpt you a present
epitaph commemorating you... for you
with words, to say

I think...
I might love you?

The world doesn't want to be silent
but you do

The world can't go a second, without some click or tap
so I guess you have that in common

The world speaks, its every noise a story
but yours are hollow

I can see right through you
you don't know how you feel

I know those hesitations and excuses
you don't know what to do

I could tell you more about yourself
you don't know I understand

Leave it for me to tell you
what the world has shown me of you

Leave it for me to tell you
what you're afraid to say

Leave it for me to tell you
that we're a perfect pair

She leaves a trail of broken heart
in her wake.
Like the River Styx, but
very much alive.

On the outside,
one would look at her and say
she's a faerie nymph
flighty, giddy and naive.

She treats boys like playthings-
they would say,
draw them to her and spit them out
her pixie pranks bereft of benevolence.

They are Theseus and Leucippus
heroes victimized by false love
they say,
the underdogs.
She is to blame.

On the inside, however,
it's a different story.
They fixate on her,
fall in love without consulting her first.

To them,
consent is an idea
and an abstract any-thing.
Something to be taken lightly or disregarded

You see,
consent is more than a verbal yes
and consent is more than ****** thing.

Consent is communicating your intent
before acting on it
and getting permission.

So it should be the same with falling in love.
No one owes anyone anything.
Best friend, dark loner type, new boy/girl in your life,
consider this before you vilify someone
for what they don't feel.

He made me a playlist
of lullabies and melodies
(well really EDM)

for good mornings
when he wasn't there
but thought of me anyways

title:
Something Wonderful for the Morning
but not as wonderful as him
I hope he knows.

say hello
greet the day
drop the bass
think of you
youyouyou

In all my years of
boy after boy
I found one who thinks of me.

Lovely,
you can't understand
how much it means to me
when my philosophy has always been
music is a part of me

and you got it right.

Tonight was a great night.
A warm fuzzy feel good smiles and sunlight
great night.

You wanna know how I can tell?
It's written in the stars and
the way the clouds move, like the statues
we talked about
bright stars and constellations mean
it was a great night.
Or at least a good something.
And we stood like those dark statues for hours.

good luck
good friends
good feelings
great night

You smell like musk and old cigars—
they smell like nothing because they're digital information.
I just downloaded Tinder, you see?
they smell like moonlight reflecting off your smile

Whether you or them,
I won't die alone. On this
great night at least, you're here,
they're there
and all three parties can hold a starlight conversation.

Pink-Haired Wildflower
I know you.
I see you.
everyday at least once

Your pedals are short
   and cute
   chopped off at the chin
Your clothes are loose
   and indie
   style, you wear so well

You walk so confidently
      each stride your own.
You glitter shining vibrantly
      like the stud in your nose.
You smile so easily
      and laugh with no care in the world.

Pink-Haired Wildflower
do you know me?
do you see me?
each time I pass you on the way
I look at you
and try not to stare
your flowered beauty beholds me

I wonder what you think of me
This bent over gait
   dark-circle-eyed
   fool. I am
   struggling to stay upright.

Can you see the weight on my shoulders?
The stress in my complexion?
      my gnawed on nails and torn skin
Tell me, what do you see in my gaze?

I wish I possessed your confidence.
Your grace in billowed petals.
Your fragrance has a trail
   that always circles back to me.
   everyday I see you.
   though I say nothing.

Whatever you are
I want you in a bouquet on my bedside table
as I lie there
trying not to cry
or die.
Let your rank beauty infect me
aromatic surround me.

Be mine.
Lay claim to me.
Show me your ways.

or at least learn my name
as if I knew yours

You're a stranger to me Pink-Haired Wildflower
last night your dyed your hair Blue

You are
a new, exciting challenge.

With the games you play,
I'll never be able to tell
if I'm winning or not.
(but you can bet your happy trail I'll try)

Are you really
as cold as you seem?
Distant and Reflective

You are water.
Forever breezy—
go with the flow
and float on the ripples.

And I am plexiglass.
I don't break—
I shatter
but it takes a lot.

If you think about it,
(and I know you do)
the best container
for reckless water
is a plexiglass tank.

and it can hold
a myriad
of different things.

And here I sit
in this old restaurant,
-- i wonder what history this table holds
eating food gone cold.

It's 10 til close
and I'm that *******
who refuses to leave.
-- they wonder what i'm avoiding by being here

My eyes glued
to a laptop I can't read,
they've long glossed over,
and I came here to work.
--i wonder if they watch and ponder me
I should probably go

All I can think of is sleep
but I flinch at the thought of
what lies behind closed lids.
-- they wonder when they'll get to go home
10 minutes have passed

She lives her life with tears in her eyes.
From day to day, tears in her eyes.

No one can tell—
she hides them so well—
with bangs down,
and a smile on her face.

                   ~              

The general disposition
that showing emotion
makes you weak.

Why should she show them anyways?
When no one can make her feel better
    and no one understands
the pain in her heart that resides there from day to day.

It originates from small things that bug her
                       to things people say—
and the fact that they just don't understand.
                                          No one understands.

It's always the same,
they get defensive
when she tells them the truth
and how she really feels.

but she's so tired of hiding and pretending to be ok

I've seen you cry
I hear it in your voice
The way each word
weighs 1000 tons

From late night calls
to drowning yourself in music
I see you sitting there
headphones on your ears
and sunglasses to hide your eyes
The air is a void around you
touching (hurting) no one but yourself
although you feel like you're suffocating others

The slashes on your wrist
                                    (bicep)
                                    (thigh)
                                    (knee)
                             and heart
All an angry red
with the occasional bandage
Though you try to hid your pain
with conveniently placed tattoos
(all beautiful in their importance)
(they're almost as beautiful as you)
(i wish you could see)
your scars are apparent

You
are NOT
a burden
You
are NOT
too much work
You
ARE
incredible
hilarious
talented
brave and strong

You
have been through hell
or at least you've tried to
Thank god it didn't work
and you came back
Because if it had
the world would have lost
another light to the darkness

You are so full of love
and care for others.
I wish I could alleviate your pain,
but all I can do is sit
and listen
and watch you destroy yourself.
I know you have no control
over your sorrow.
It hurts all the more
knowing there's nothing I can do.
But I'll always be there
a shoulder to cry on
giving you a reminder
of how glad I am
that you are here
and alive,
such a vivid part of my life.

I'm done with you

GOD

it feels good to say

you broke my heart
and hurt my friend
you destroyed my self-image
but shattered yours as well
you ****** up
but ricochet and hit me instead

I'm done with you

now all I have to do is tell you...

I've grown so accustomed to this numbness.
It spreads through my body
like wildfire
consuming dry skin and chapped lips.
It overtakes all of me, fills my being
from stomach to heart and
eventually my mind.
It begins to feel like brush on the forest floor,
stale and easy to catch
but quick to burn up.

------------------------------------------------------------­---------

Our ship is sinking
so quickly.
Blink and you miss
all the little moments we could have had
that you failed to see.
Your blindness and My complacency
like cannonballs
punching holes in our vessel
and me in the stomach.
You don't even seem to care Captain.
We're patching up a sinking ship with bandages
but it won't stay afloat.

Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me
Yes, it hurts me- a little bit, a lot a bit
but I understand.
You are yourself and I am myself-
You will do you, I guess I’ll be me

I still wonder though.
Who am I-
Why not,
What’s so wrong with being a part of me,
my life- who I am?
What’s so bad about me?

Is it because I’m not “pretty” enough
or “cool” enough
or good enough to you, to be a part of me? Associated with me?
Because I won’t just make you happy
I will make myself, my family, those I do- and don’t know happy
I will try and make you as well.

What counts as part of me?
Just that I’m nineteen, female, probably bi
born in Geneva, Illinois, raised in South Elgin, Illinois
but also raised in Westford, Massachusetts
both painfully boring towns; quiet, uneventful.
Does that make me as well? Is part of me South Elgin, Westford?
And then what else- what other parts of me?
That can’t be the only part-
So I’m also creative, loud, spontaneous
the part that makes me different
Is it so bad to be that part?

Part. Of. Me.

it sounds like a bad pop song. Is that why you don’t want to be
part of me-
Why is it that sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me?
Does that mean you won’t speak, look or think about me?
i don’t think that’s possible.
Am I really that much of a stranger?
I’ve known you for quite sometime -
You’ve known me
So can you even not be a part of me?
You can be yourself, as well as
Part of me.

so
yes
You are part of me.
As am I to you,
Just not all of me.
A single piece, maybe, a part,
that shouldn’t be too much to ask.
You can have alone time, but even then that doesn’t mean;
for the time alone, your part of me is gone.
What an illogical statement,

Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be part of me.
You already are.

It's a problem, you know,
when it feels like we can't talk.
I know
When the words escape me,
and the motivation was never there
to talk to you, that
Something is wrong.

Honestly,
if I'm being honest with my self
         not that it's easy to do
I'm not being honest to you.
But then you never were with me either—
were you?

It's over
         basically...
I'm ok with that.
I think I want it to be.

Then again—
this might be nothing more than
me making something out of nothing
         which is something I'm prone to doing.
But at what point is me making excuses for you
an excuse for myself?

And even if I'm totally wrong in
my assumptions of your intent;
it doesn't mean it's not a problem.
To me,
I need more
a reassurance that it's not all in my head.
But that's not how you think.

We are
         fire and water
         night and day
         yellow and purple
         hot and cold
         spring and fall
         tired and energized
         love and hate
associated with one another
But terrible together.

And I'd ask you if any of that was true
         those late night I love you's.
But if they weren't, then truth be told
I don't know how I would handle it.

I'd say:
**** 'em
but that's not my character.

My character is to worry
and overthink
about things out of my hands and up to
Fate.

Fate is a funny thing;
it's cruel
but also caring - at times
and I guess we weren't meant to be,

'Meant to be' is a
construct
anyways. Is there really
only one person out there
that you're fated to be with?
'Cause I find it hard to believe

Hard to believe like
you and I
were 'meant to be'. Fated
to cross paths and fall in love
at least I think it was love-
but who really knows?
Maybe that's why I'm indifferent

I'm indifferent because- while
for me it really was love
my first everything- you
said it too easily. And
love is never easy
it's messy like;
well...
Fate or 'meant to be'.
There's really nothing I can do

Nothing I can do to fix this
roller-coaster disaster on steroids,
but that's over exaggerating,
'cause I don't know why
but I'm ok;
with Fate dividing us. Since we weren't
'meant to be' in this
mess, love. And that's fine,
it's ok.
Now you're too far away

Too far away both metaphorically
and literally. There's
a gap
that's impossible to cross
without Fate there to back us up
when we've gone over that ledge
and crossed that line. We aren't
meant to be- to go back
is impossible like love. So
I hope you're ok, are you fine? I
don't want to hurt you
but
there's no fixing this.
Without making it worse.

So I bide my time

fate says
we aren't 'meant to be'
love is too complicated
so i'm indifferent- to protect myself from
the pain that comes with my inability to do anything to
bridge the metaphorical and literal gap between us

So I bide my time

Snap to
a snapshot of
that time I balanced on the curb
                   balanced between
                                          the sidewalk and the street

step after step
foot in front of the other
my hands out to each side
                         to distribute the weight of
   the burden on my shoulders weighing
lightly.
Surprisingly light,
my understanding was that it's usually
                      heavy.
Just not this time.

                                         The sidewalk and the street,
both perfectly distinct
         perfectly indifferent.
At times teetering
                swaying
                      for different reasons
as they present themselves.

  I'm perfectly contented
                   balancing on that curb.
At times I wish to walk
                           on either the sidewalk or the street
           one over the other.
And I'm greeted with
                                 either a honk or a fire hydrant.

A minor nuisance
An obstacle or action
that leaves me bitter
that renders me flushed with red.
           So I hop back on the curb
not rife with anger or sadness
                   but indifference

While it may be easy to pick
                                          the sidewalk or the street
the choice shouldn't consume you
                                 leave the curb to divide
follow where it takes you

What does it say
When being happy
Worries me?

What does it say
about me
When being happy leaves me concerned
that the worst is yet to come

It's still me
though I had to change
the name I've had my whole life.

Not legally of course,
but poetically

While I wish my name remembered
as one with written art.
I can't risk possibly losing
those who have my heart.

With time I've come to realize
that people can't be trusted.
They take the good and make it bad
or let it leave them rusted.
They never understand

So I remain anonymous
With simple pseudonyms
To protect myself and others
from pure and raw emotion
in case they can’t withstand