i promise that my words really do mean something
i know it's hard to hold onto a fist full of nothing
in hopes that it will one day bloom

it might be reaching, but is it crazy to assume that all those songs were about me?

never before have i been woken up by my anxiety
never before have i known a sadness so deep
never before could i have imagined this feeling
or the fact that once it hits, it takes the rest of your life to melt away
why couldn't i tell you how special you were to me?
why couldn't i ******* pick up the phone on 4/20?
you're right, i'm nothing,
and you were something i could always count on,
but never took advantage of
someone everyone could depend on if they needed to
you were always there and that's why i couldn't see you
i grew used to your distance and your constant pain
just like i've grown used to my own,
but i didn't know you had grown fed up,
filled with anger and trauma
from those who should have loved you most
there are so many things that were sacred to me
that i can no longer enjoy
and you're at the top of that list

listening to love songs
hoping that i'm not wrong
kissing you goodnight
going back to sleep and dreaming for a week would be so nice
he's in my darkest nightmares,
holding me when i'm scared
the end is all i think of
smiling for the pictures as he wipes off my tears
i know this is real love
...
sitting in his old car
looking up at the stars,
hoping one will fall
getting high and drinking will ease us from this thinking
give me a break
i'm staring into his eyes
now his lips are on mine
this is my heaven
"take me back to your place"
yearning for his embrace
said he'd love me always
...

it's over
and now we'll never speak of it again
at least not to each other or to anyone we know
not to our parents, strangers, or foes
let's get together and not say a single word
at this point, it's best we're both unheard
outside in this eternal sunshine,
we will bask until our skulls house spotless minds
we will lie there with no intention of leaving;
not until both of our hearts have stopped bleeding
only then will we rise and be able to lock eyes
one final time before fleeing

where do all the fallen petals go?
One minute, they're on display amongst the leaves and branches
And the next, they're falling to the ground
Where do they go after that?
Does the sidewalk absorb them in an attempt to become less grey?
Or maybe they are sent away by a magical force that we will never come to know
All I know is that it makes me sad if I think about it for too long
I mourn the departures of all things

the headlines of my heart are a mix of fear and passion
i have this relentless need for something so real, something surreal
take me back into the dark and split me open
learn the curves of my mind, each crest and crevice
i know you'll find my truth deep inside
all along, I've been grasping the key so tight
while you scoured the floor in search of it
but this time, I'm ready
i want you to know too much

i want to be the goddess that i know is within me, but i feel like just another blurry face, a passerby on a crowded sidewalk
i want to display unconditional love and understanding because that's all i've ever wanted shown to me
there are so many beautiful things that i want to say, but i'll cry if I say them
their beauty overwhelms me
that's the effect I want to evoke
like a garden angel, the light I shed will illuminate all shadows that meet me
my voice will flow gracefully and gently like honey
people will shield their eyes from my beams, but i'll soon make them able to face anything
the warmth within my heart will be powerful enough to spread to others, and their warmth will spread too until there is peace or at least piece of mind

it's crazy how someone so angry and confused and depressed
can turn all of that around for themselves,
but in the process,
make everyone around them carry the weight they just shed
from that point on
i wish you'd given some of it to me
even if you gave me all of it,
i know i'd be able to handle it,
but you wouldn't let me see
i want to scream until my throat bleeds
i want to cry until i fall asleep,
but only for every time you had to alone
your oversized heart was my home

if you want someone who's broken, here i am
you never communicate, so i'm left guessing
i'm competing with a screen,
so i'll log off and shut down
how can you not read me?
or maybe you can..
either way, i'm left in silence,
but inside, i'm wailing

"listen to this song about me"
i want you to hear what i can't put into words,
what i can't bear to tell you myself
i'll let the voice of another eloquently describe
how my heart feels like there is a rope tightening around it endlessly,
squeezing the tissue out from between its coils,
stretching the walls thin and slowly strangling the arteries
if you listen to each carefully-selected syllable,
you may begin to understand
why attempting to tell you this myself will only bring me to my knees
it saddens me to know that others have felt so similar and even worse,
enough to write a song about it,
but i am grateful that i do not have to carry this weight alone
so listen, please
and maybe then you'll understand me

it's hard to fall asleep without your touch,
even just one body part- our feet or our butts
everything that used to make me feel safe
leaves me feeling crushed

i keep secrets about people in the form of poetry
i guess that isn't really keeping a secret at all
it's more of an anonymous expression of truth
except that the writer can reveal themselves
whenever and however they see fit
and the content is subjective to anyone who reads
take the subject and apply it to whatever you please
morph it into shapes that fit perfectly into the cracks
of your heart, your imagination, your unanswered questions
what's more is that you can then take the pen into your own hands
compose stanzas of what you cannot say out loud
liberate the heartache

there is hidden elegance in the grotesque
some are able to detect it, but most won't even begin to attempt
even the word grotesque is both horrifying and beautiful
a viscous, slimy drip from a rusty ball of barbed wire
a flawless rose sprouting up through a pile of moldy leaves
anything initially perceived as disgusting can become poetic
just as anything that radiates beauty has an ugly side
the latter is much easier to discover
for people quite enjoy the destruction of a saint,
but to turn coal into a diamond takes effort and motivation
one must have a strong desire to expose the potential secrets
within things that don't normally receive a second look
the people who are able to unearth these gems are artists,
taking the repulsive and placing it on a pedestal
they transform their pain into a painting,
their cries into a song,
the least we can do is listen

let's take this whole thing and forget it,
smash in
every crack that has been growing since you left
since you came back,
i've forgotten what minutes feel like
i've forgotten what day it is
i've forgotten the nostalgia that used to make me love you
nevermind

all i've realized is that life is colder than expected,
as lonely as winter, and even more destructive

thought i'd be fine to try it out,
but instead, i shut myself down
you took it all back and said it was a mistake,
but i know better than that-
nothing fake about it
and now i feel like everyone i never thought i'd relate to;
listening to songs i never thought would be about you
i always thought i'd be okay alone,
but what's worse is the thought of you
not being alone while i am

if everyone can see it, then it must be real
if we can joke about it, then it's happening
i will tell myself this until the end of time
i'm hopeless as you've probably figured out by now
maybe you don't want to believe it,
and maybe i want to believe that you don't want to believe it,
but you do, and deep down, we are both aware
without actually speaking, i'll continue to express how i feel
without talking, i'll drill a tiny hole into your head
and slip a piece of paper through with every dream i've ever had
about you written down on it
because that's the closest i'll let you get to reading my poetry
and you only let me talk to you in your sleep

i can find salvation in things other than god

i was driving home when a flash of lightning reflected
in my rear-view mirror,
brilliant enough to pull me out of whatever zone i was in
it reminded me of the way that you enter my mind-
always bursting out of darkness, calmness;
never giving any warning other than a low, rumbling thunder
too soft for me to pick up on
not that this occurrence is at all your fault..
it's simply my mind's way of dealing with a subject
as dangerous, tainted, and flawed as you
subconsciously, somehow, i just know
that you should not be brought up gradually,
but rather quick as lightning-

a radiant flash and then nothing,
stillness

if only something so simple could actually take place
no, instead,
the flash remains, burning into my field of vision,
much like when all you can see is a blurry, yellow spot
after someone takes your picture
or when you can't take your eyes off of a sunset
because it is so beautiful, but you know it won't last,
so you watch it melt for as long as you can
before it slips beneath the horizon

it seems that the more i try to explain it, the more confusing it becomes,
so i will leave it at this:
you are the lightning to my tree;
you strike with the potential to make me burst into flames
and you don't even know it