if you ever need to
remember who you are
just start with the basics
something simple
your favorite color
is blue
just like the ocean
it reminds you
just like the tides,
you have highs and lows
but can always reach
the shore.
salt will wash
into your wounds
but the rays of sun
will cleanse you,
as the sun sets
and rises.
you will adjust your sails
when the wind blows
in the opposite direction
that you wanted,
you are strong
and fierce
like the waves
that crash and never
fail to let their sound
be heard.

i want to be someone
who you want to
experience
not a person who
you can lose interest in
like a record you've listened to
too many times
without pausing
to truly listen to the lyrics
i want to be someone
you want to be around
add my laugh
to your favorite soundtracks
and appreciate
my company
not just flip through
my pages and skim a few lines
but actually dogear pages
and highlight your favorite parts
i want to be
worth something to someone

i am an extremist
sunny one moment
then pouring down rain
craving for knowledge
and creativity
then falling into
a ditch of
unmotivation
and thoughts shredded
an extremist of emotions,
scolding hot passion
or lukewarm disinterest
happy highs
and barely
keeping my head
above water

"you can't miss
what you never had"
well i never had you
but every time
we quickly catch eyes
you can see
the heartache of something
i never had
maybe i only miss
the idea of you

i think a lesson we all need to learn
is that you need to love
selflessly,
expecting no return.
love fearlessly
on a big scale,
climb moutains
cross oceans
for those that make you feel
like warm breezy summers
and pure joy.
you can't light someone up
like a cigarette,
just to take a drag
and stomp them out.
expect nothing,
and you will recieve
plenty.

they say
some people die
at 30,
and aren't buried
until they're 90.
we get stuck
in toxic routines
of bitter coffee,
and rushing about.
we forget
we only have
one life
and are barely
living it.
don't settle
for anything less
than extraordinary.

"objects in mirror
are closer than they appear"
in the mirror of my eyes
i feel like
people in my life,
are further than they appear.
you never truly know someone,
and that terrifies me.

i have made
birdnests out of
barbed wire,
and built bridges
from bone.
i have seen
the sun set
and rise,
the world dark,
then light again.
i can make it through
today, tomorrow
and all the storms
that come with it.

my heart
is my map,
i hit the gas
full speed
down long
winding roads
into tunnels
or skid into meadows.
sometimes i crash,
sometimes i wind down
to a graceful stop.
i just know
i feel everything
deeply,
i feel my own emotions
which aids to
tears going down
my shower drain
and my mind aching.
i feel others emotions,
guilt rades my thoughts
and want of compassion
sleeps in my heart strings.
my heart
is my map
i follow it blindly.

a monday, 11 pm
its strange
to want to go to bed
because you're exaughsted
and broken
you just want the day to be over,
yet at the same time
you don't want to fall asleep
because you'll be shoved
into tomorrow
and you don't know
if you're ready
to face another day

They say
get up,
no matter how you feel.
get dressed
with your favorite
new sweater,
no matter how
broken you are.
just show up,
and never give up.
just keep going
and it will get better,
always always.

I learned in science class
we are composed
of stardust,
from exploding stars
that combust
and form minerals
that create our teeth,
and pump through our blood.
Whether you believe
in a religion
or theories of evolution,
i think we can all agree
that we were wonderfully
and fearlessly made.
On mornings when i wake up
and dislike what i see,
i want to remember
i am composed
of something beautiful
and fierce,
i am one of a kind.

How would you
describe colors
to a blind person?
I don't think
this question is impossible.
Even without vision
you still have your mind,
which can create beautiful things.
I would describe them
as feelings.
Yellow,
it looks like how you feel
on a long august day,
feeling the sun on your skin
and sea salt in the air.
Gray,
it looks like how you feel
on a friday night,
eating a box of pizza by yourself
and feeling like you don't belong.
Red
it looks like how you feel
when you have a burning passion
for something you do
or for someone
you love.
Maybe they can build off of
what they feel
and imagine things
us with the blessing of vision
******* even imagine ourselves.

is it crazy
to be madly in love
with a city you've never been to?
or perhaps it's something
along the lines of fate.
i dream of life
on a grand scale,
wearing heels on cobblestone streets
and hailing taxies
without a care in the world.
i suppose i'll have to
get there first.

Whenever i feel alone
i go out and look at the night sky
a blanket of stars
or drive down a long road
under a canvas of golden yellow and orange
a one of a kind sunset
because i know
we are all looking at the same sky
whether you are my
next door neighbor
or around the world
the same time i am looking up
counting the stars
or admiring the sleepy sunrise
there is someone out there
doing the same.

it took me a while to realize
i deserve to be happy,
although it's easier said than done.
once you embrace
the things you can't change
the things you see
in the reflection
and despise
or the feelings
within you
that you can't shake off,
no matter how many tears
you try to wash them out with
they will remain.
i've learned that's the key,
realizing that they will always be there
but changing your perspective
is the choice of happiness.
accept inner and outer flaws,
someone else
adores them.
once you embrace
the traits about yourself
you have shunned,
it will be easier
to face yourself
with joy.
in this world,
you are the only you
in existence.
treat yourself well,
treat yourself to positivity.

I guess this is growing up
seeing your heroes
shatter into ordinary people
and how terrifying
the thought of being ordinary
truly is.
I have realized
the concept of time
and tangled with the thought
of being young and alive.
I have admitted to myself
late at night,
staring at the
craft store glowing stars
on my ceiling,
of how scared i am of growing up
and the future of it all.

I have heard
everything is a self portrait.
The sound of your laugh
or what sweater you choose
out of the bargain bin.
Your favorite poems,
or the songs you sing
when you think no one is listening.
Your handwriting and
if you dog ear
your favorite book pages.
We would love to think
of ourselves as a mystery,
something one another has to
put together
like a puzzle.
But you do that yourself,
pieces of your identity
your quirks
your habits
are apparent
when you least expect it,
you are the truest you,
in a moment where you don't
even realize it.
You are your own mystery,
and your clues are a give away,
a self portait you paint
for others to admire.

I want to live
where things happen
on a big scale
i don't want luke warm
or average
i crave city life,
burning hot.
full of life
and millions cramped into one place,
tiny apartments
and local coffee shops.
i like to pretend i am a city girl
who in reality
lives five minutes away from a beach
and has never even been in a taxi.
who gets nervous on public transportation
and is too short to see above crowds.
but i can reinvent myself
and shape myself like clay
into whoever i can be.
in a passionate city
and staying up
into the night,
while my town is fast asleep
and the city is wide awake.
i want a life of thrill
and intelligence
of the world.

What a pleasure it is
to be alive
at the same time as you
I could be lost in the 50s
swirling in a poodle skirt
and singing to frank sinatra
or the 60s
painting peace signs on my cheeks
thriving in a cultural decade
or i could be making my way
in the 70s or 80s
pretending i like disco
with poofy hair
i have teased my mother about.
but i am here
in the present
which is truly a gift
as im spending the golden ages
of my life
with you
when i could be
an entirely different person
in an entirely different millennium
but how lucky i am
alive and free
in the same universe as you

I always questioned
why my parents claimed to hate sugar
and how they said that most adults do.
Denying to put sweetness
into coffee
or a warm cup of tea,
while I counted
halloween candy,
and brushed until my gums bled
before the dentist
because i knew i had a sweet tooth.
is it because
once you grow older
the sweetness disintigrates
from your life?
or maybe
your way of thinking changes to bitter.
it's sweet
and beautiful
being young,
believing in everything
and everyone believing in you
but that fades
and you don't believe
even in yourself
you don't crave the sweetness anymore
you settle for the bland
black coffee
of a 9 to 5 schedule
and dreading your alarm.
but i promise myself
to always put spoons of sugar
into my coffee
and sneak
my children's halloween candy
because i refuse to settle
for a normal lifestyle.
i'll allow it
to rot my teeth
from the sickening
but lovely sweetness
of loving being alive.

There are many different types
of seconds
seconds as in time
or seconds of a thanksgiving meal
but
the most painful
is you being second
always the second choice
almost the best
but not quite
someone always
comes before you
or someone
always does better
it is the most infuriating, painful second
i would much rather
deal with
seconds of dessert.

What is it about winter
that strips us bare?
are we trying to blend
with the trees
or become hollow
like the sound of the wind?
i just know it makes me vulnerable
and a slave to my emotions.
im in awe with
the first snow fall
and the way i can see
my breathe in the air
to prove how i am truly alive
although it does fade in time
gets old
much like young love.
i am infatuated with winter
but it's only
a fling
as another portion of the year
will roll around
flowers will grow
around my ribcage
and sunshine
will glow from my skin
i will cater to my emotions
and shape them into positivity.
i will fall into love
with summertime;
freckles and tanlines.
until another portion of the year
rolls around,
and a new piece of me is born.

How lovely it is
waking up
to a brief moment of no memory.
It's a clean slate,
a fuzzy calmness
until it rushes back to you.
A tidal wave
of emotions
and memories
all before 9 am.

I'm terrified
of the ticking on the clock
my heart is being tugged
and arteries clogged with nonstop thoughts
saying im wasting my life away.
routine is a comfort
but is it disguised
and is actually a vice?
i lay in bed
with an image of my house
then my state
my country
the world
the universe
and feel rage pooling
in corners of my mind.
i am forced
to drag myself out of bed
see the sunrise
as something to resent
because i hate what it represents.
i want to wake up
with the regret i even fell asleep
because my life is that thrilling,
so in this vast universe
knowing i am of the least importance to it,
i want to make
my tiny meaningless life
meaningful to me
and look back on it
to see maps and roads of the world
in my veins

There is a certain sadness
that can't be burned away
by a hot shower
or suffocated
by your favorite sweater
you have to take control of it
blow the dust off of its suitcase
and pack it
shake its shoulders
and order it to leave
because you have decided
while focusing on the thorns
to finally look at the rose
and soon enough
you'll take calming baths
and choose to  wear a sundress
to feel warmth on your skin
you will fall in love
with being alive

I came home
from a concert
with my ears ringing
my mother said it was hearing damage
which i can believe
i could feel the beat in my chest
drumming against my rib cage
electrocuting my veins
it made me realize
if you're going to live
truly live
it's better to wear out your senses
hear words sung
guitar riffs that shake your eardrums
make you feel alive
seeing sights
a baby being born
your first funeral
things may burn your eyes
or open them
see the world
even the dustiest most harmful corners
feel
feel every emotion
even if it hurts
claws your inside and makes you feel dead
because there are the wonderful emotions left
inside of you
laughing until you feel like you've ran a marathon
the feeling of your first love
being in a city
or sleeping in on a rainy morning
hearing
seeing
feeling
*wear them out

Presence is something we often take for granted
we don't truly realize it
until it is missing
we feel it absently
it's familiar
comforting
the presence of loved ones
a heart beat by your side
but when it is gone
we realize it
but we don't feel it
it's missing
it's heart breaking
hollow
your ears ring with silence
although there is a heart beat
that will always remain
alone inside a cage
yours

As the snow melted into the dead grass,
the sun filtered through the trees casting light
the wheelbarrow full of plants shined its brass
I ran up the hill holding my pink kite

I am glad the winter winds are ending
they had blown through me like a hollow shell
my thoughts were scattered but now are mending
these cold winter thoughts of mine I will sell

I sent them away inside a letter
to whom I do not know or have desire
whoever opened it may feel better
this soul shattering season will retire

The grass now rises from the dusty ground,
like I will out of this painful cold mound.