We lied there on the grass
Thinking about life
How it went so well
With or without strife

We shared the same thoughts
We were inseparable
All of our years
Our fun, always on a double

Then you sat up
Looked me in the eyes
Smiling so sweetly
I can't break the ice

I smiled back and hoped
That this wouldn't end
But then you spoke up
"I'm glad that you're my best friend"

sometimes i wonder if i had waited, would i be happier

but then i would be mourning three lost loves instead of just one

Laughter,
Chuckles,
Spinning rooms,
Controlled words
Mixed with loosened tunes.

Spin me,
Kiss me,
Ignite my night.
I'm studying
Yet fun arrives.

i feel like an alien in my own skin
scratching through flesh trying to get back to myself
echoes of my youth ringing in my ears, clawing to get me
back to the way i was before
all the scruffy chins scratched up
my face, making me red and raw and exposed,
before hands meant electricity to me,
before i lingered for anyone other than
a ******* stuffed animal, and
before lips meant excitement and awkwardness and
even *******. i'll just
sleep all day to forget who i am and
remember who i was,
if she's still out there
somewhere.

They say there has not been a single day without construction in New York City for over 100 years
Cranes loom above the stumps of skyscrapers like skeletal fingers
And the noise is the anthem of the city
God drops a box of tools he used to build the Earth - and the noise reverberates around the universe until it bounces between the buildings of Manhattan for all eternity
The trickle of traffic lulls children to sleep
No noise is loud enough to drown out another
Framework and scaffolding decorate the sky in lacy corpses
As the white men build their way toward the dollar signs in the stars
Civilians walk the streets in black
Mourning for city that has not yet died and will never sleep
Rushing to a funeral - rushing up ladders
A man runs up the stairs - craving only the elevation and never the satisfaction
Man in neon uniform affirm themselves by yelling at women they will never know - wanting only to dominate the space
Building, always building - toward the nothing the city has not found yet

One day - there will be no more left to build
The skies will no longer be scraped but injected
The sky will not be seen
Useless legacies will tower over the city
In black for the funeral that has finally arrived
The city dies and there is no noise
No noise
No noise
No noise
No noise
The silence is perverse to the inhabitants of New York
A permanent funeral
The people do not know how to mourn
They do not know silence
And the white men - building their worth floor by floor - discovered there were no dollar signs in the stars
There were only stars
And stars meant nothing to them

New York is silent.
And the people begin to scream.

she's not perfection
she's big lips and eyes and sometimes people thin theirs at her in skepticism and dislike because of how she moves and smirks but
she's not perfection
she's awkward inside and self-deprecating
she's always afraid she's not quite right, off-kilter, buried far too deeply in her own misperceptions
she's not clean
she's tried every dangerous experiment offered to her, and
sometimes she feels like she's given too much of herself away,
because she wasn't sure what was important
enough to keep.

she's far from perfection, she's tainted
and she feels
a deeper emptiness than anyone could guess,
even though she will take the time
to heat her hair in perfect curls
and pick out the outfit that fits just right so that no one notices
the hurt inside and if she layers on the makeup to look natural so her eyes don't look so tired, she'll look brighter and smarter and less fazed and then maybe she'll appear to be closer to
the perfection that she's not,
cause she's a wounded deer, vulnerable and broken apart
and longing for the happy family she never had
trying to create her own reality
amongst all this vast and amazing
chaos....
aren't we all?