not one word is mine
there's nothing left to say
that hasn't already been said a thousand ways
if someone were to crack open my skull,
quotes of Palahniuk, Salinger, and Plath
would be spinning in a metaphorical blender,
mixing and morphing into a multitude
of depression and life lessons,
wisdom and just plain nonsense
all of which has already been said
i'm exhausted

Bukowski says "find what you love and let it **** you"
and i've done just that
like Snow White and the poison apple,
what was once flashy and alluring and right in front of my nose
has been consumed and is now a masticated pulp fuming rancid
smoke into my lungs
from the deepest pit of my heart
no prince's attempt at true love's kiss can pull me from this coma
i'm in love with the darkness and my enduring hope for light
a light so bright that it will illuminate my veins, my troubled thoughts
will change from knots
into silk chains,
but until then, i'll comfortably rest in my summertime sadness

i haven't been able to write lately
haven't been able to place my finger on a single, fleeting emotion
before it is whisked away into nothingness
the vocabulary within me is surely going to waste
as i grasp at straws in attempts to make them grow into beanstalks
these days, i'm not sure if i'm happy or sad,
but the uncertainty is enough to keep me busy for now
i'd rather not know one side more than the other,
but what i do want to be sure of is how you feel about me
i can be the goddess of the sun of your tantalizing universe
or i can be but a speck of dust leftover in a dark recess of your mind
and you can be either of those to me,
but in the end, i'll always prefer warmth over isolation

i tell secrets in the form of poetry
each of my subjects is a special fruit hanging from the limbs of my mind
once they become too heavy, i must pick them,
tear them open, and reveal their matter before they become spoiled
not for the world to see, but more so for my own relief
i'll place my subject right in front of me for dissection,
but only when it's ripe and i am fully ready
my subject transforms from a drunken pith into a gem,
from a simple thought into a sonnet
this form of expression is the only thing keeping me from endless suffering
writing frees the subject without its knowledge,
and it frees me from having to protect it any longer
for it is a burden with which i have a sporadic love affair

come near, sweet and trembling child
with skin like the surface of the moon
and a heart that reflects the sun's light twice as bright
you are small, but only compared to your aura
it's a swirling and sparkling cloud of green and blue;
green like the moss on the rocks near the ocean,
and blue like the way your heart feels when it's broken
you've spread yourself thin,
but the world still wants moore
as you sprinkle fairy dust at each stop on your tour
your hair like a tangled nest,
an obsidian mess cascading down
the t-shirt that covers your chest
you give so much and expect much less
to the point where i feel that i must profess
my love and admiration
you've taught me more than just patience,
but humility and compassion too
everything you say is true
that's why i'm in love with you

sometimes i think about you so hard that my head shakes
back and forth, "no"
disbelief that you're as perfect as i make you out to be
both our minds and hearts connected by strings
each time i tug away, you stand fast
and each time a vibration occurs along one of the strings,
i know you feel it too
i've gotten to know each piece of you, but not each part
the terrifyingly beautiful way your mind works,
but not your seemingly gentle, yet powerful body
see, i've gotten close, but not once close enough
i have this recurring dream of tugging at both of the strings
so forcefully that you'll spin towards me in a matter of seconds
such velocity will cause the strings to tangle with one another
and we will be forced face to face
to face something we've ignored since we found it
but for now, i miss you

if no one will pay attention to me,
then i'll lock myself away and write more poetry
the vastness of the internet
resembles an intensely large ear
to which i may tell my secrets and heartache
without a body to belong to or a brain,
i needn't worry about how my words
are perceived;
just knowing they are received by someone,
something
is enough
i'll harp on melodically and tragically,
much like the eloquent language of an actual harp,
until the entirety of my current emotional state
has been examined, molded, displayed,
expelled,
exhausted
replayed

talk to me, i say
but what is not said is what matters most
respond in ways that suit me
without any hints
keep your interest
and don't forget

my silent demands,
hidden motivations,
and careful, sweet inception

i mean no harm, always with some form of a smile
don't want you too reeled in,
but never detach completely
and never grow sick of it

if i keep up my end,
i think you'll stay
both of us working out of fear
neither of us knowing the other's intentions,
always coming back for more
of what we do not understand

we fell asleep holding hands
you told me you loved me more for the tenth time this week
now i'm weak

we fell asleep holding hands
i listened to your breathing go from calm to complete slumber
woke up to you on tumblr

we fell asleep, legs intertwined
my feet lost all blood flow, but I didn't pull away
because yours were there to stay

we fell asleep, legs intertwined
our minds drifting further into dreams
somehow, you're always closer than you seem

go ahead,
give up on me then
what are you waiting for?
i heard the warning, so teach me a lesson
i am sand and broken glass
slowly slipping through your fingers,
but you're the one spreading them apart

i really should have known
eventually, you'd tire
of grasping me so tightly

i should have fought,
i should have heard
your cries for help
behind your words
i should have stitched
your shattered heart
if only i'd known
just where to start
you carried so
much heavy pain
and now we're left
with all the scars
we loved you so
because you
showed us
who we
really
are

i've now heard the sound of true love,
incomparable to any other "love" i may have previously encountered
i've felt the real thing, but never been sure
whether love is the drug, the sickness, or cure
its sweet music came to me by way of a fairy
it tapped me on the shoulder and told me to hurry
so there i was, in pursuit of the sublime,
following around a fairy the size of a dime
it leaped on leaves without any trouble
lighter than air, a feather, or bubble
and was able to float around freely
at this point, i thought i was dreaming,
but i kept racing as fast as i could
while the tiny green sprite led me deep in woods
when we got to what felt like the center,
it motioned and told me to enter
confused, i asked it where i should start,
but before i could finish, it opened its heart
quite literally, in fact
with a small key and a lock and a latch
on a door that swung open to reveal
the sound of something that, up until now,
i thought i could only feel
it vibrated through every cell within me
like the heat of a fire scorching the throat of a chimney
it left a scar that is only visible from inside
it stripped me of my ego and overactive pride
it wrapped me up in a tornado of tones
and made a nest in my mind, so i'm never alone
when i hear its call, i know the fairy is near
delivering love from its heart to my ears
and reminding me that there's nothing to fear
except the silence of hatred that can last for years

butterflies and moths display their dust proudly and without apology
each speck of the stuff adds new facets of light and color
new dimensions of growth and repose
unlike the snail, these creatures do not carry their homes on their backs,
but rather their stories
a tear in the left wing in memory of rebirthing,
a blur of deep red for all the times that they bled,
and a streak of blue for each time they stayed true
such a short lifespan for a creature that reminds us humans
of the fragility, beauty, and fleeting nature of the life we are given
wearing scars like blue ribbons
and silently departing before we ever get the chance
to appreciate them and their elegant dance

i thought i had forgotten, but really,
you were there the whole time
maybe it wasn't even actually you,
but the idea of you;
a collection of flawless moments
i've been saving up,
playing on repeat

i had a dream about you the other night and i thought
it was no longer possible,
but there you were without warning
and beautiful as ever