Today I wasn't good
But I said I was.

I'm sure you did too,

Were you good?

for yesterday, the day all you said was thanks.

for tomorrow, the day I'll pretend I wasn't crushed.

for next week, when I'll sew denim patches to try and hold my heart in after you ripped it out.

for next month, when I'll still be kept up at night due to the horror of the most anticlimatic rejection the world has ever seen.

for next spring, when it will have been a year and you will have forgotten.

for the future, when I'll remember all the pain

Dear Teacher,
I want to be a lawyer,
a doctor,
a detective,
a writer,
an engineer,
a straight-A student.

but

Dear Mother,
I want to be a stoner,
a drinker,
a rule breaker,
a shoe wearer,
an underager,
a party-goer.

but

Dear Friends,
I want to be a leader,
a martyr,
a gossiper,
a trend-setter,
an accepter,
a secret keeper.

but

Dear Boys,
I want to be a lover,
a lust,
a dream,
a flirt,
a conserver,
a relationship-haver.

but

What Do You Want Me To Be?

You’ll never know anything
Not anything thought by a person
But it can’t make you better and it won’t allow you to worsen

Nobody will know, never anyone at all
Will never know anything
If not proven by law

You’ll never know anything
If it is not a fact
Trust doesn’t exist, nor does any pact

What you choose to believe, think or feel
None of it’s guaranteed, none of its real

I can’t say it’s fake or say it’s not true
I can’t call it a lie but neither can you

There are many things we will never know
But we’ll always think we do
Or is that even so

I have a brightness deficiency
Forever forgetting a world without darkness

My whole life is over saturated
******* all the good parts out until they are all that you see

I have a papery polaroid heart beating inside my chest
Its colors are faded, as they should be

I turn the lights on,
Brighter and Brighter and Brighter
All I see is dusk

I rely on stars and sunlight
Trying to open my eyes wide enough so they can see like everyone else

Maybe my flash is broken
Or I'm the one draining out all the light

Somebody out there watches black and white films to satisfy a stereotype they wish to fulfill
They watch not because they enjoy the film, but just because it's in black and white

Don't you think,
a person alive in a time of only black and white films would perhaps

find it quite odd.

That people watch black and white films for fun when they could instead watch one in color.

You call me a believer,
but you haven't heard my dream

You call me a believer,
because with pity you watch me scream

You tell me to speak my truth,
because I have "important" things to say

Funny, wasn't it you?
that ignored me yesterday

Please don't press like on my poems if you don't like them

But please press like on my poems even if you don't like me

Please

Last night I took off my face
When we met, I didn’t even recognize her
The next morning I put it back on
And it was like everything I ever thought I knew was erased

I didn’t know who I was anymore
But I knew what people thought of the real me
I may never know what they think of my face
A face doesn’t provoke actions the way I did yesterday

I don’t know if we’re better with or without faces
I don’t know if it’s a preference
I don’t know if it’s something we decide for ourselves
I don’t know if someone out there has all the answers

I do know that without a face we’re just souls
And I also know that with a face we’re just people
But it takes a whole lot more than both of those things to make a Human Being

There used to be something romantic about living to see your funeral

Seeing who cares
Seeing who pretends to

This romance gets lost on you when it truly happens

When you’re a ghost walking through your past

Everyday, living a memory
Like you already left

It was a hot day, not one kid in the school was not wearing shorts and t-shirts.
As least that’s what I expected

It was a boring day, not one kid in the school wanted to sit in class any longer.
That’s why I got a hall pass

It was a quiet day, I walked through the halls to find a drink in the hot peace and stillness of our school.
That’s when I saw her

She was a pretty girl, short brown locks and braces surrounding her smile
She saw me too

She was a nice girl, a year younger than me but we were somewhat friends
I smiled at her

She was a different girl, she stood there in jeans and a long sleeve shirt unlike anyone else
I waved in her direction

The water was clear, rising out of it’s silver not to pristine fountain that all the kids used
She bent down for a drink

The water was calling me, I watched her take a sip and walked over to the fountain faster
I was dying of thirst

The water was clueless, the only other witness in what I was about to see and it could know nothing
I bent down for a drink

She bent up, her sleeve got caught, it rolled up, she stepped back, I saw them, long and perfect, red cuts that decorated her soft skin protecting her delicate frame, she looked at me, I looked back, awkward eye contact that no one could forget, we both looked down, her sleeve came down as well.

It was a hot, boring, quiet day for two pretty, nice, different girls who turned around from the clear, calling, clueless water fountain and headed back to class.

I never even got a drink

I don’t write poems either..
Just words sometimes.

there's something about forced love.
maybe it's the way it smells, the way it bleeds.

maybe it's the way two people can walk side by side down the street, yet never even look at each other.

or maybe it's when they do look, but the effort and discipline put into it show that even eye-contact sometimes requires practice.

there's something about holding hands with a loved one.

but instead of comfort and a subtle embrace, all you find is sweaty palms and angst that show you never really loved them at all.

there's something about a fight.
one where you scream and glare and stomp.

but afterwards, instead of hoarding away in your room to cry, you feel fine.

those fights, are formalities.
they brainwash you into thinking you reside within a realistic relationship when truly you can't care enough to shed a tear.

there's something about car rides.
but only the ones which are silent.

silent not because you're feeling pensive, but because you lost your words dozens of car rides ago.

there's something about forced love.
and that something,

is that it's far too obvious and much too common for our own good.

In November, I settled into the holiday spirit.
I found my joy in coffee shops and bookstores.

In December, I steadied myself for the Christmas craze.
I spent my time at the mall shopping for gift wrap and mistletoe.

In January, I failed at keeping New Years resolutions.
I surrendered my hunger to restaurants rather than eating dinner in my own home each night.

In all of these places,
I looked for tables not by the front doors,
I hid in warm corners to read my books,
and I watched the snow fall from
closed windows
on second stories
where the blizzards
could never touch me.

However happy this time is supposed to be,
I still had to isolate myself to the indoors to stay away from all the twists and turns that the season brings.

And that harsh breeze you feel when walking by an open door in winter.

I love to watch the rain drip,
Down the leaves like slides

I love to feel the water,
As the trees embrace the tides

The moon wakes the wet,
And the sun owns the rain

The wind howls its guilt,
As the clouds shake their pain

I sit softly in the grass,
A book in my hands

The ink slowly blurs,
Following the sky’s demands

I never finish my story,
For Mother Nature I respect

But the tree above just soaks me,
When the leaves above have wept

I sit below the bark,
the wood that formed my book

I let the leaves cry wonders,
for it’s their life my story took.

Miss. Shoe-wearer
In the house
Not this house
Not my house

Miss. Disrespectful
Scuffing up my floors
Bringing dirt into the carpet
Making loud noises as you step

Take them off, please
Take them off now
I said take them off.

On January 13th I leave.  
I will get on a plane.
It will be my death march.

I will leave my town,
My school,
My friends,
My home,
But what I’m leaving the most of...
Is people I barely know.

The ones I stop and say hi to in the grocery store.

The ones who’s social media I comment on despite never making an effort to call.

The ones I check up on maybe once a year,
or at least once every few.

And it’s almost saddening. That these are the people society expects me to spend my last days with.

Two weeks left and I just cram my calendar with goodbye lunches for people who were never truly in my life.

They are dying to see me they say, but it’s funny because I’m not even sure we really know each other.

We’re not going to cry when we give our final hugs, because we have no tears for one another. No real connection.

But for some reason these are the people I am making plans with right now.

Oops, gotta go get my calendar.
The phone is ringing.

My whole life I explored through words,
The ones I’d seen written or the ones I’d had heard.
I thought there was nothing more to it than this,
Books left a mark on my soul like a sweet kiss

Then I met dead poets and sweaty toothed men
I met Forrest Gump and his old pal Jen
I was taught about humor by Mrs.Doubtfire
I forgot all about the life that I had lived prior,

Prior to fighting on spaceships and living in trees,
Prior to constantly debating between Marvel and DC
Prior to letting disney make me smile and fight back my tears
Prior to horror movies introducing me to new fears

I met a life where one picture show
Could take me to a place I’d never get to go
This life was a life only made for me
A life outside of my reality

I sang along to all the musicals and got up and danced
I covered my eyes in the shining and barely even glaced
I sobbed and I sobbed when jack dawson died
I imagined what it would be like to have Mcfly by my side

I wished and I hoped watching Monsters Inc.
And in finding nemo I never let myself think
I found that sci-fi and fantasy held whole different meanings
The the ones they had held in the books I was reading

Chapter by chapter or scene by scene, I finally discovered what adventure means
I hung posters on my walls and bought all the clothes,
From movies symbolizing my life’s highs and life’s lows.
I was a true fan but I didn’t hold a favorite
They were all close to my heart and I just needed to savor it

Savor this life outside of my own
One that I’m lucky was ever made known
Made known to me a true movie fan,
Someone who will cherish them as long as they can.

Like most people, I see color.
I choose one to be my favorite.
I identify all objects through shade, tint and hue.

I witness darkness and lightness at their blurriest points.

I watch transparency succumb to these two worlds and let truth get lost in between.

In between worlds is where many find themselves.

Those who paint themselves gray, surrender to going unnoticed and convince themselves everyday that their scars will disappear if they stop looking.

These people are entitled to invisibility.
They wear it like a cloak or even a mask.
They adorn themselves in an attempt to stay hidden.

I too am lost between worlds.
Yet I don’t share a cloak of invisibility.
I wear intangibility as a piece of armor.

I am a soldier demanding my right to walk right through everything.
To feel nothing.
To go untouched but still seen.

I let others play the roles of bystanders watching me almost crash into conflict before passing through like a ghost.

I embody mystery and fate and death for my life is hiding somewhere in color.
I embody intangibility so I can glide through life and maybe access that color again.

My poem found me yesterday.

It chased me down a hill, and rolled past me like a tumbleweed in an old western ghost town.

It clothed me in words and betrothed me to my own metaphorical aspirations.

It ran me down a path to a dead end but then showed me a way out, the way into my thoughts.

It painted a dozen pictures and sculpted a million lies that would soon account for all my forgotten memories.

In the end the poem held up a white flag and told me it had surrendered, yet it wasn’t until this moment I realized I had been the one chasing the poem all along.

I found my poem yesterday.

The stars shine, light years pass
The birds sing, wings wide open
The sun blinks, darkness takes over

The sky supports the world
Atlas supports the sky
Strong, independent and alone
Or so we think...

People walk the earth
They breathe his air
They dance to his music
They take in his sights

Their joy is Atlas’s arms
Their happiness supports him
They hold up Atlas,
So he can hold up things to hold them

There’s two little kids in white
Roaming up and down my road

Young angles of the night
With heaven as their future abode

Long blonde hair,
a veil made of tulle.

Soft bare feet,
the grin of a fool.

The boy holds a paper airplane
It holds his thoughts and dreams

It’s flying towards my window
And I won’t catch it by any means

You are taught to scream into your pillow,
So nobody can hear it.

You are taught to smother it in your punches,
So you can relieve your anger.

I haven’t screamed in a long time now
There’s a buildup of pain in my throat
It’s forgotten how to let itself out

I’m walking down the streets every morning
Wondering how so many people live so many lives

I’m overwhelmed

The pillow in my mind
It’s white
It’s fluffy
And suddenly I’m muffled

I will always cry for broken glass

and, broken reflections..
that never could last

I will always fall down on my knees
and soften the ground
for those bigger than me

I will always look fear in the eyes
and banish deceitful truths
in exchange for hidden lies

I will always return back to your home
and sit beside you
although feeling alone

I will always ask for a chance to die
and take death as a gift
for my life is a lie

I will always cry for burning sand
and bow before it
to lend it a hand

I will always cry for broken glass

tough but fragile
and..no..turning..back

Frizzy hair and wide-eyed stares, and glares to stay the night.

Running streams and pretty things, and dreams to spark a fright.

I'm laying back down in the grass staring at the clouds,
Watching shapes swirl and swirl,
around and round and round.

both indoor and outdoor alike, I feel tugged upon.

I feel cheated of my own journey,
because my navigation has been purloined and rendered helpless by the sakes of you.

I watch as you rip the leaves off of trees,
stealing their last chances of life and replacing their final breath with your cool breeze.

The piles of death raked neatly on my lawn are recklessly thrown about,
and any garbage littering surrounding streets is forced to flutter in your wake.

My clothes are ****** and heaved in the opposite direction of my heart.
No matter how purposefully I march my soul in one direction, your soul will always best me.

I am trying to go right but you instead draw me left.
My dark brown curls are turned into thin wispy locks in all that is your power.

I follow the new direction pathed by my wandering hair, the new direction pathed by you that pulls it.

This is a letter to brown eyed girls
I know you’ve heard the love songs and seen the movies
I know you’ve been confronted by them in your own life

I know you’ve seen the blue that reflects the depths of the ocean
I know you’ve succumbed to how easy it would be to swim in them

I know you’ve heard the rumors about how they light up when they laugh
I know you’ve seen the life they hold even when all the salt is drained out of them

But I know more than that, I know the things you could never know yourself

I know that the power of melting gold is only something you will ever have
I know that mystery is better when you look at something and can’t see what’s there

I know that the reason people are afraid of the dark is because they can’t understand it
I know the ocean isn’t warm the way a hot fudge sundae is

I know that when the sun is laid upon you, you light up uncontrollably
I know this fire that burns within you is eternal

I know that your eyes allow you to stay hidden and that although you might not stand out in a crowd, your secrets will only be deciphered by those who care enough to search for them

You are deep, you are wisdom, you are mystifying and you are power
A power so buried that even you can’t see it
A power that doesn’t have to shine to be potent
A power that only girls like you have
This is a letter to brown eyed girls

The roar of the train grew louder and louder
A growing rhythm beating through my ears

The blood in my skin was growing
The lights racing towards me glowing

I went blind as it halted before me
I went deaf as the doors squealed open

My senses went numb as my nerves let go
I was on a track that no one could know

My ticket was clipped like a piece of my soul
My seat was found and welcomed me poorly

The train took off, not a passenger insight
The conductor disappeared and in came the night

The chair enclosed around my skin
The light at the end came closer

Most people are forced to see it without a say or a voice
I only was there, for it was my choice

I became one with the train racing to my death
And my problems became one with the passengers I left behind

It’s a fortune cookie religion,
Where we abide by our own truths.

We crack them open in the kitchen,
And spill out our papers of youth.

We count our lucky numbers,
As we count our own turns of fate.

It’s a crystal sugar alter now,
And this cookie is my soulmate.

I love the faded white paper,
As I adore the soft blue ink.

I allow the cookie to mold me,
What I love, what I hate, what I think.

I love it best when they hold true predictions,
Gazing into my life like a crystal ball.

I won’t succumb to only a simple quote now,
I’d rather be told when I will stand and when I’ll fall.

Not ever will I let the cookies fool me,
Or glide right through my past like it’s untrue.

Instead I’ll weave the cookies through my whole life,
I’ll let them choose me because through them I chose you.

My sides open and unfold
Around each person that I meet

The lies that shape me, the truths I’m told
My greatest strengths create my defeat

If you smile I’ll smile back
Your sorrow will bring out my toughest tears

Though if intimated, I might just crack
Your nerves will swallow all of my fears

I have a side one, side two, side three
I’m a fortune teller my paper white

All sides shape my reality
But each fortune changes in different light

Each flap folded down holds a different me
Every side makes up one blank sheet

A girl that changes due to what you see
You’ll write on it one day, if we ever meet

My sides open and unfold,
Those changes are what set me free

The lies that shape me, the truths I’m told
Each person I know shows what I’ll be

She claims she loves you more,
She claims to decipher your whispers like no other

Only she sees your dreams and understands them for all they are.

She reaches into her sleep and finds your rolling tears crying out for you and your sleeping soul.

She watches the tears shape you and cover you in fear, a fear she claims that only she can understand.

Aimlessly I listen to her tell me all that you mean to her, yet at night when I lie awake I am the one swimming in your cave of cries.

I am the one who holds the light that will eventually let you find a crack and escape.

She listens but I aid you.
She may love you more but I love you bigger.

build with me.
together we’ll put words on paper.

we’ll decorate the world with thoughts and creativity,

if you choose to be my architect.

this is the one with the good memories
this is the one with the awful tears
this is the one with the old beginnings
this is the one with the most fears

this is the one where I work to win
this is the one where we only lose
this is the one where I try to hate again
this is the one where my hate's a bruise

this is the one where you hurt me
this is the one where I let you
this is the one where I'm crazy
this is the one that always feels new

this is the one when my heart breaks
this is the one when things go well
this is the one when I find my voice
this is the one when I can not yell

this is the one where I'm pressured
the one where I want to scream
the one where if I express myself I'll lose you,
and everything we gained right in between

that was the one where I lost my rhyme
this is the one with you and me
this is the one where you're the real you
but that last one was the only one I see

I wish I knew
How to feel
The way I felt
Before I knew
What I know now

Every time your laugh breaks,
Mine starts

Every time I open my eyes,
They get caught on yours

Every time I dream,
You break your way in

Your words fit into mine,
they own me

Your voice is high where mines low
it soothes me

Every time you smile
Something tugs at my lips

Every time I walk
It's towards you

Every time you think
I want to read you

You're perfectly molded to accept me
I'm made just to be with you
Our personalities beat only in unison

Yet, something about us will always be missing

We're two puzzle pieces and I've lost one of my edges
I'm broken, but only where you break me

My life is systematic

It’s the gradual open and closing-
of eyelids

It’s slowly forcing all my muscles to become involuntary

My life is repetition

It’s a life without thoughts

It’s living everyday in a pattern of pain
Yet with a smile on my face

Have you ever walked out of a movie theatre and suddenly it was dark out?
Have you ever run your hands under cold water but they were so numb it felt hot?
Have you ever stared at the sun too long so you saw dots?
Have you ever woken up at 4 am and not gone back to sleep?
Have you ever ridden your bike down a road and felt like you were in a movie?
Have you ever thought of a person right as they texted you?
Have you ever truly had a prayer answered?
Have you ever taken a cold shower in the morning?
Have you ever ran your hand through your hair after getting it cut?
Have you ever put socks on and instantly gotten warmer?
Have you ever taken a nap and waken up thinking it was a whole new day?
Have you ever watched the same movie back to back multiple times?
Have you ever asked for a sign and then gotten it?
Have you ever gotten de ja vu from a book?
Have you ever been excited to open a letter you got in the mail?
Have you ever cleaned your room and felt better about your whole life?
Have you ever bought someone a gift and become obsessed with how perfect it is for them?
Have you ever hugged someone for so long you didn’t know when it was gonna end?

have you ever,
fallen in love with a feeling?