I doubt you remember me.
I was the girl who sat alone,
Peering into empty faces.

I doubt you remember
Your laughing words which
Sent me crying from the room.

I doubt you remember my name
Or the names you called after me
As I walked away.

I doubt you noticed the empty chair
And if you did, I doubt you'd care.
I doubt I'll ever forget.

You're ink.
I'm the quill:
I lounge, idle and mute
For want of your color on my parchment.

Like ink you've spilled
Into my life
And like ink you'll stay
Forever stained, an unfading tattoo.

The past is my ball and its chain I suppose.
It holds me, enfolds me, and sold me, and goes
Wherever I stray in my ghostly cold mind
And echoes; the yarn of my memories unwind.

I wake up to darkness inside my own head
To fight off the bitter sensation of dread.
I squint into fuzziness, hoping to find
The person who opens the cage of my mind.

You feel like rain
On a Summer night
And move my bones like wind

$8/hour

8 candy bars/2 outdoor recesses

2 friendship bracelets/4 diary entries

.5 graphic T-shirts/ 2 episodes on Netflix

4 energy drinks/ 25% of a night of sleep if you're lucky

2 shots of whiskey/ .4 graduation ceremonies

.027% of student loan/ Time best spent job hunting

1% of a month's rent/ Time still best spent job hunting

40% of a package of diapers/ A long drive

Time/ Money

How stereotypical can one person be?
Our hearts are like birds and its wings are the sea,
Relentless yet soft, as the sirens sing: "Free."
And salty yet sweet, ore the distance we'll heave

A sigh as a sign from our lips: "Nevermore."
If minds are our boats as our boats near the shore,
The ocean's grown sour, our sails are torn,
The wind-maker cries at the siren's song: "War"

Our intricate, gossamer sails we weave,
If heartbreak is rain and the sky starts to bleed,
Unravel and all that is left: You and Me
Will fly and will love without wings, but two feet.

What human experience could provide
Some wholesome satisfaction
In a thousand short years,
Let alone a hundred?

How fitting that we
Toss pennies, nickels, dimes
Into cobblestone wells, still
Hoping for a splash but expecting a clink,
Wishing for salvation from greed
And for some sort of purpose.

Even if I could
Stand in awe before each mountain
And sea, toiling with my tiny insignificance,
I would tremble still, begging for more time on this earth
To leave some tiny remnants of my years spent here,
Scared to death that in a century
I will be forgotten,
And the fruits of my labor
Will die with me, rotten.

It's amazing how we humans
Don't want to die.
But do we dare to live?

If I could only love every moment, bitter or sweet,
Savoring every last drop of coffee until it's