I want to softly whisper
incomplete poems
on your collar bones
that don't rhyme with anything
but your heavy breathing.

I want to bury my face
in the curves of your neck
because you smell like the winter clouds
and I've been gazing at the sky
since you left.

You looked at me like you were insulted I hadn't noticed,
when I asked what it was that you carried around your neck.
As you pulled the pendent out from under your shirt,
you said you'd been wearing it all week.
But I already knew.
I'd been staring at the cord it's on,
wanting to feel it between my fingers all week --
and have the dark hair on the back of your neck brush my hands.
I'd been seeing it for days from behind you and beside you.
I can't help but notice you constantly, hourly,
so of course I saw the black cord around your neck.

The ghost that I used to
call my friends ran from
their home in my closet
only to tear me apart with
their truth,
my life is a disaster,
an earthquake waiting to
happen.
His smile built me up like
the Eifel Tower and his
words slashed my face
with a knife,
tell me why I gave satan
another chance?
My life is spiraling out
of control, and
there is not enough
beauty to prostrate.

"Since when do you have,
a tolerance to alcohol?"

I grimaced, but you took it
as a smile. Misunderstanding,
as always. Quit.
I have been noticing.

How much love hurts,
when only one gives.
And receive less in return.
I have taken to supplement.

Too many** eyes watching
Too many ears listening
Too many ideals capsizing
Too many thoughts sinking...
And dreams drowning.

Too many drops fallen
Too many smiles forsaken
Too many times beaten
Too many hearts left shaken...
And promises broken.

Too many questions asked
Too many answers hidden
Too many faces masked
Too many hands bitten...
And people forgotten.

Too many words said
Too many pacts fade
Too many boundaries laid
Too many rules made...
And games played.

Too many secrets entombed
Too many feelings consumed
Too many ill thoughts bloomed
Too many enemies groomed...
And hate campaigns resumed.

Too many...
A plethora too many
Too many...
We choose not to see
Too many...
Taken far too lightly
Too many...
There's just *too many,
too many...

Turning on the T.V, you see a beautiful woman
Standing up, proud and straight.
You look down at your not-so-perfect self,
And your heart fills with hate.

You’re not like that woman,
But you’re beautiful just the same.
You have beauty where she doesn’t
Internal beauty is what you can claim.

If only you could see it,
You’d know your beauty too.
Unfortunately, society has brainwashed us
Into not loving people like you.

If I could change the world
We wouldn’t have to have waists of a centigram.
And I’d have the cute guys love me
For who I am- not what I am.

So look at yourself,
You’re beautiful just like me.
Loving yourself is the right path;
Confidence is the key.