Why is it that I only write
When sorrow has arrived
All alone in the night
From the recesses of my mind
Why is that I cannot write
Of the love I frantically seek
So pure and beautiful
The kind that won't let you sleep
Why is that I write these words
In hope you'll soon comprehend
I only write poems like this
When my love is coming to an end

He wanted it and he wouldn't leave without it
I wouldn't give it and tried to push him away
He felt so good in my bed, against me, teasing me
I was given an opportunity and I really wanted it

My morals are as high as the wall around my soul
I have always reacted childish and now in University I chose differently
I'm proud of myself for leaving, for telling him no
Childish teenage boys who always want one thing will always be mad when they don't get it

And now because I stood up for myself I'm punished
Forced to see him everyday, now he chooses to hang out with my friends
Crossing paths is unavoidable
Shame and embarassment marr my face and wreck my heart

But why am I embarassed? Why am I shamed?
I can't answer that question
Would it have been worse if I just gave in?
Yes, I would feel better but my self respect and the respect that others give to me would be diminshed

I'd feel like a *****, a lousy one night stand
Not the way to give up my first
Instead, I sit here trying to convince myself I was strong
But all I feel is weak

I want people to like me and to think I'm a fun person
Is giving it up to every boy who wants it really necessary to do so?
I just want to be there for everyone, be their friends, be a nice person
So, that's what I will do with everyone including him

Everyone has their issues, as I'm most definitely sure he does
I won't let anything happen ever again between us
But I'll be there because I won't hold it against him
And I most certainly won't hold it against me

These oceans are swelling with passion and grief
Emotions tucked away tightly in the coral reef
Protected by the old, wise octopi tribe
I’ll swim right past them to get inside

When hidden among the deepest blue,
Your light still shines on brightly through,
Radiating a path for me to travel on.

Once I find you in the wake of dawn,
Take me sailing into the sunrise,
Set still the tide with those glowing eyes,

Once these waves do curl and break,
My heart will be all yours to take.

Her body is poetry and her curves are the words.
Her eyes are the hook and her lips, a cryptic verse.
As much as she pours out, there's not much you'll really know.
There's memories she hides, and even more that she won't let go.
She's simple at its best, yet chaotic at her worst.
She'll catch you with her hook, and leave you with her verse.

I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."

Whoever said,
"Parting was such sweet sorrow"
obviously never meant/met
you

because

when you go
you take all the light with you

NO

not the light
for all light does is help one to see

what you have taken
is but every single shred of happiness
and
hope of ever getting these shreds back again.

Maybe it was Shakespeare?

How lucky he was then to have lived
and died
meeting only people he could bear
to part with

and how unfortunate
am
I.

you never held my hand
    I was always too shy to let you
    and you respected me too much to try

but you held my shoulder
grabbed my arm every time I was about to fall
you always let go after
afraid that saving me was too much contact already

     you never tried to kiss me
because we never got that far
but your lips with all its talking has always been enough

I never got to touch you
as much as I would've liked
but you gave me more than that

     you gave me your words
let me into your ideas
let me touch you in places no one else had
and I let you feel

my fears and my dreams

    maybe it was too brief
and maybe we were too young
for it to have been love

but as far as I know I miss the way when we walked together
how you'd always take the side of the sidewalk where the cars sped by

and in that way I always felt
you risked your life for me and I never even got to say

thank you.

Where is this God you Christians speak of?
I don’t see him on the news.
Or in the paper when villages burn.
I believe a part of Him resides in me,
yet I am more powerful than ever He be.
Can He save a French African girl from drowning?
I can, and have.
Can He feed the hungry in the shivering cold?
I have not, but at least I tried and will try again.
I am my own Creator, he had no hand in this.
My ancestors created Me, not He.
And I will continue to create, for all of time, if only in memory.
He may have made the locks, but I hold the key.
Why turn to a ghost for aid?
When I was lost, I found my way,
and I was down a map and hadn’t a clue.
I am a savior of children divine.
I have no reason to believe I am not a God.
But don’t expect me to save you.