There is something in the way you look at me.
In your smile.
It's faint and broken,
but I know it's there.
Your eyes squint in concentration and curiosity
as you try to put the pieces of my puzzle back together.
I know some won't fit
and others are lost
because I have been beaten down and split apart.
My heart is scattered in pieces
and I honestly don't know where you would start.

the problem is,
I never really wanted to be loved.
held and kissed,
maybe.
but my heart has always been my own.
cherished by no one.
only crushed when hope was
left to roam.

it's days likes these
where the rain soaks my bones
wilting the flowers I use to line my soul
and I seem too busy
to care for those roses
but if I'm not willing to tend my own garden
why do I think another poor soul will be up for the challenge?

I'm glad we like the same things.

drink the same drinks.
sing the same sings.

laugh the same laughs
and eat the same eats.

I'm glad we learned to love the same things.

This is short and

sweet.

Just as we
were meant to be.

I wake up to cold coffee
and a sigh on my shoulders.
I sip the disappointment
and let it drip from my lifeless composure.
so much distain within my smile,
it's hard to believe I'm still standing.
I would have thought the weight
to completely destroy me.
but it's easy to dismiss all things without meaning,
unless you choose to give them a reason for staying.

I have neglected to mention
the most important part.
That it's you and only you,
that holds my heart.

I whispered to your heart,
but it mustn't have heard.

there are so many people I would like to be
and none of them seem to be myself.

grounded, am I,
in these worn out shoes
soulless and hole strewn
just like my heart too
is broken in like these old shoes
wanderlust on my tongue
and insanity on my lips
I cry in my sleep like an addict on a bad trip
but my mind is clear as I gaze out my window
whisper sad songs as I draw in the fog with my fingers
I am gone, so gone,
I wish I could stay here,
but these soulless and hole strewn shoes
have plans to get away, dear

my feet are on backwards
but I'm still moving forward.
in an uneven pattern
I leave the old behind.
but the new ahead
doesn't seem that grand.
it's losing it's appeal
all the time.

tattoos
maybe on your body
mostly on your heart
I used to believe in the hope on my arm
I guess I still do, wishing for a new perspective of the word
I look down and see me
not someone people want me to be

now the cross on my wrist
sits so elegantly between my heart and my mind
these are the tattoos on my body
the ones you can touch and feel and find
I might explain the meaning
and you may trivially understand my words
but never my thoughts, the truth behind my heart
I wish you could see those tattoos  
because although the ones on my body are beautiful

at least to me

the ones on my heart are beyond anything you have ever seen
most people never know the feeling
the feeling of finding yourself
seeing who you actually are written on your own skin
I don't see ink
I see me
the person everyone else refuses to see

the cold, my love
is something so close to us
it finds us in our dreams.
it haunts not only you,
but me.

the cold, my love
has something I want.
it has the warmth that is meant
to be for us.
but it so blatantly disregards
our every being.

the cold, my love
will soon find its way
in and between.
soaking into our bones
to keep us from loving.

the moon is my only friend.
in darkness I pretend.

My heart breaks with every step.
Because the further I walk,

*the smaller you get.

these words are for you.
tattered,
yes.
but for you.
broken,
yes.
but still for you.
abundant,
no.
but what's here stays for you.
these words are all I have left.
they're all I can give you.
because you're gone.
a face in the eaves.
you'll just have to listen very soft and very carefully.

I don't know why I'm scared.
to die is the ultimate gift.
a welcome relief from
this world we call home,
when all it has really been
is a place I have never actually known.

what a beautiful thing to have loved
if even for just a short while.

to be yours would be a Sunday morning
sipping on a favorite tea
watching as everything became veiled in stillness

to have your love would be a summer night
stolen stars and kiss soaked memories
surrounded by the inevitable sunrise

but to have both
oh, to have both
that could be nothing but a dream

In the pursuit of death,
We are halted by the occurrence of life,
Debted to hope
And tolled by the terrene

So much trouble perched between your lips.
A match flirting just at the edge.

All you have to do is light it
and everything bursts into flames.

But it still sits there.
Eager for something new to chase.

I want to wander among the leaves
that have fallen so carefully around me
they haven't hindered who I am
but they have showed me a new path
and I want to find where it's twists and turns end
beneath the snow and throughout my bones
I'm lost on this new path to an uncertain home
and I'm left without a reality to ground me
only to rely on something so far outside of me
I feel so alone with this emptiness that surrounds me
only filling each hole when I'm threatened to drowning

I am imperfect.
I am unwhole.

I have been beaten and battered,
left without a soul.

As hard as I try,
I fall to my knees.

Begging for someone to comfort me.

this fire
once stoked by the wood
from my undying forest
seems to be dwindling
in the crushed eyes of forgotten tomorrows
and I once thought so clear
I was a ghost in the mirror
now my loley reflection stains
my vivid recollection
and I stare not through
but at whom I
never thought I would become

Waiting
Always waiting —
I creep into my own dreams
Waiting for them to become reality
Living in another time
Grieving what was
Never mine

Waiting
Always waiting —
For my life to begin
For a time when my mind
And my body join in

I watched us burn.

I wanted to put out the flames,
but all I held was more gasoline.

I'm in the dark
losing my sight.
I've tried so hard
to find the light.
but the black that engulfs me
keeps pulling me deeper.
whispering in my ear,
to become someone weaker.

we are nothing but lights
dancing through an illuminated night.

tangled feet beneath our legs
we spin and crash in different ways.

our laughs echo through invisible walls
chasing us down abandoned halls.

youth behind us and death in our eyes
I always imagined a different way to die.

How can we be so different?
My hand fits in yours with hardly any indecision.

You act like the world owes you
A broken beaten girl that gives all she has
But you're no different
You're not special
You give no more and no less
Just fall
Let your wounds bleed
You are owed absolutely nothing

when you call me by my name

it’s a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning
the scent wafting room to room
the sleep in my eyes just falls away
and although I can’t see you
I can hear the smile on your lips
and I can feel the warmth in your chest

when you call me by my name

Like the ocean,
I am deep.
But unlike the monsters that lie beneath,
I float atop the surface,
searching for a place to sink my teeth.

Cold whispers through the air.
Caught only by your heart
and the thoughts that surround we.

The earth on fire would not
be enough to save us
from the chill between you and me.

my thoughts are strangling me
they've tied a noose
and are ready to kick the chair out from under me
my hands are bound behind my back
and the fight I thought I had
has completely drained from a lack
of comfort and hope of a solution from death
so I better not fight it
a fight not worth fighting
because if I fight and I win
who's left to keep me from dying?

I will never be the perfect time piece.
always early, sometimes late.
I won't keep you detained
by my hands on your heart.

unless you want me to.

each second will seem longer than the last
and I can't promise that
it won't get tricky
being my wrist.

my perspectives seem to be skewed.
uneven and drawn to misguided conclusions.
I'm left tilted and jilted
from my own interpretations.
flawed is my nature
with exceptional and judgmental accusations.
I'm not saying that I'm a wreck,
but I'm a ship that seems to have made a wrong turn
and I've somehow found my way to the bottom of the sea.

blank pages
you fill with empty words.
it would be nice to see those lines
those curves.
but words do not seem to amuse you.
they escape and abuse you.
so those pages that remain blank
will surely stay without ink.
for to get your book
would be an impossible thing.