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Jill Stinehart Jul 2013
I know you like the back of my hand
because although I see you everyday,
although I have known you forever,
there is no way I could ever describe you
in a way that paints a picture
and leaves out nothing,
and I do not want to leave out anything.
I want to remember every freckle (there are so many of them),
every vein pumping blood to your heart,
every word,
every day I spend with you,
but sometimes the things you see the most
are the least familiar to you
or perhaps
when you know someone or something so well
words limit what you can say.
The back of my hand is not just my hand:
twitching with life, it is a part of me.
You are not just a person:
bringing me to life, you are a part of me.
I used to look the blue currents under my skin
and hope they would burst,
but now they remind me of your translucent skin
and the way I can see every vein in your arms
and the way your arms make me feel safe from myself
and I'm okay.
Dr. Tim would be so proud I'm writing woop woop
Jill Stinehart Jul 2013
We are our favorite trees, you and I
You, pale and painted with marks
and full of life
Me, twisted and lonely
but coming to life next to you.
Perhaps our branches could grow
and eventually intertwine
but if they do not stretch quite far enough
we could build a bridge
or sprout wings and fly to each other.
We are birds of a feather, you and I
Chattering noisily and endlessly
And I yearn for the day
that together we soar away.
It's a sonnet yay
Jill Stinehart Jul 2013
Sorrows are easy
to write about.
Infinite amounts of metaphors
can be made about
and sadness
and strife.

But now that I am happy
how can I continue
with what I love?
Where is the fun
in describing my joy?
Will you be
There are only so many ways
I can tell you I'm in love.
I love him.
I love him.
He makes me
love myself.
If I tell you
can you please just
be happy for me?
I like writing about what i feel and i used to be sad all the time but now that I'm not it feels like I have nothing to write about idk man
Jill Stinehart Jul 2013
It's 2:38 am
I have again been
left alone
Just because they say
3 am is a time for the lonely
does not mean
it has to be sad.
I can be alone
and dress
like a soft grunge blogger
with heavy eyeliner
just for me
and i get to pick the music
at 2:38 am
It seems the better my life gets, the worse my writing is
Jill Stinehart Jul 2013
It's called "falling" in love for a reason.
I used to be a tree,
Strongly rooted in the ground
All alone.
Now, I am a mere blade of grass.
My roots intertwine
with those of another
just like our fingers
when he's holding me.

But if he were
To be ripped from my life
I would be uprooted as well.
This tree no longer stands tall
But my lawn assures me that
Love is well worth the risk.
Jill Stinehart May 2013
The beauty of watching cars drive past on a busy street is
When you're walking along,
You barely notice them
In every car, there is a person with
and feelings,
and a life just as complicated and meaningful
as yours.
You see them once, and then they're gone.

Every day, we see so many people
that we never stop to notice.
They, like extras in a movie,
are the background in our
seemingly mundane adventures.
This arrangement is only acceptable
because that is exactly
what we are to them.
Jill Stinehart May 2013
Do you see her?
The girl across the room
with forlorn eyes
and chipped nail polish.
She probably worked
really ******* her nails
but she's nervous
and standing alone
with no one to talk to
and nothing
to occupy her mind.

"I should talk to her," thinks a boy
watching from across the room
"I can't talk to her"

"She's too beautiful
and I do not have the courage
and maybe she wants
to be left alone anyway"

Little does he know,
she wants him to talk to her
because although she would never admit it
she does not do well
on her own
and loneliness
is making a permanent home
in her heart.
Just now posting some stuff I wrote a while ago
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