I looked around and saw
nobody
I closed my eyes and saw
you

stirring, swirling, whirling
porcelain and metal
clattering, clinging, singing
the bittersweet taste of Awakening

Burning all of the pages
I've written about you
would be equivalent
to setting a forest on fire.
Except I couldn't do that.
What a waste of paper,
what a waste of trees,
that I planted and grew,
watered them with my tears,
watched them flourish
with the many colors of you
glistening on all of the leaves.
The only thing you've written about me
was my name on the back
of a scratch piece of paper
crumpled up and forgotten
and you didn't even finish the sentence.
Just a little tree sapling.
Well, you can burn that
with a flame torch
for all I care.

Significant others
believing all others insignificant
little did they know
what they know is very little
how can we love at this age
when love is, in fact, age
oh fine wine
and here I am
drinking Bud Light
out of a *******
aluminum
recyclable
can

Pillage and plunder your way
through the villages of my skin.
Each hill, each valley,
every curve, every crescent of land,
fertile and bare,
is yours for the taking.
What defines a conqueror?
You must be brave enough to take it.

This girl is no apex predator.
My glass is always at midpoint.
Yet I could literally drown myself in self pity.
And I'm about up to my hips in disdain.
Six feet deep in a predetermined hole
leaves a rare species with few options to begin with
even fewer still.
I suppose I could get used to the mud,
except there's a learning curve.
It's difficult to wade through the ground
when you've been treading neck deep through the water
throughout the entire duration of your lowly existence.
They keep telling me evolution is always inevitable.

When we first began dating, I was using you to get over someone else.
I never told you because you would have gotten upset, you lovely hypocrite.
I even kissed someone else while we were still dating, and it has disgusted me ever since.
I never told you because you would have never spoken to me again.
Before your growth spurt, I lied when we both agreed that you were definitely taller.
I never told you at the time that I was 5'3" and you were 5'2".
I never told you I always looked for the triangle of dots on your neck. Every ******* time.
I did not like your best friend.
I never told you he reminded me of a sociopath, because he was one of the biggest influences in your life.
And all of your favorite songs at the time.
I never told you I went home and put all of them on my iPod, just so I could impress you with how well I knew the words.
When I started crying after our first time having ***, I wanted you to just forget it, I was fine.
I never told you I was crying because I had realized I loved you, and it made me feel free.
I never told you this, because I'm not sure you would understand what I mean when I say 'free.'
One time, we were in bed and you were looking so **** peaceful with your eyes closed, and I took a picture.
I never told you.
I never told you I was actually awake when you thought I wasn't, when you whispered into the phone, when you whispered you wanted to marry me someday.
I never told you I once had a dream about what our kid would look like.
I never told you about the night I counted all the tears that leaked out of me because of you. Twenty seven.
No, I was definitely not okay with him watching, but I never told you that.
I never told you that I was scared to speak up because I was terrified of losing you.
I never told you to grow up.
I never told you what I found out.
I threw my necklace you gave me into the lake, and I never told you.
I never told you how easy it was to fit into your warmth.
And how easy it was to fall out.
I never told you that I still think about you at the worst times.
I guess I never told you a lot of things.