Look into my eyes.
Look into them.
Will you dare be the one
who'll look into my eyes
and say i know you're not okay?
I'm tired of hiding behind a facade.
Faking. Faker. Fake.
Please, don't intensify the problem;
Be a part of the solution.

Here is where I rest my thoughts;
Here is where I silence the voices
Telling me, "you're not good enough"
They're all incessant noises.
All my life I've spent *******
By my overwhelming fears
With abundant negativity
Falling on deaf ears.
If I leave my worries here,
And look through positive eyes,
I'll be happier - fulfilled.
Dismissing all the lies.
Here is where I rest my thoughts..on the wings of hope.

I remember sitting cross-legged
in the backyard with you,
stringing dandelions together
and lazily strumming my guitar
while you rested your head
on my thigh last summer.
I sang soft melodies
and you dreamt that time stopped
and we left this town together. . .*

but alas.

You're too practical,
and I'm too scared,
so here we go again.

Writing poetry about breaking up is juvenile,
I know.
Maybe one day, I'll stop;
But that would require me fully moving on first.

I feel like the world's biggest stalker.
We haven't even spoken in 2 months,
Which is monumental
When you consider the fact that
You alone
Occupied my evenings
For a year and a half.

A strange phenomenon happens
Every time I search for you
Here on Hello Poetry.

What is it you ask?
It's a certain tingling sensation
That starts somewhere secret
And creeps up my spine
Until my whole self is covered in prickly goosebumps.

When the sheer sight of your name
no longer holds the ability to send chills down my spine,
My pathetic poems will stop.

Hope is the lighthouse in the turbulent water,
Barely visible in the crashing waves.
Hope keeps a smile on the sailor's daughter,
Looking forward to better days.

Every time he goes out to sea,
He's comforted by his wife's smiling face,
As she focuses on hope, ignores the possiblilty,
Of forever losing his warm embrace.

Hope keeps this family strong,
Centered around gifts from above.
It keeps them pushing on,
Contemplating life and love.

You.
You weren't the first thing
on my mind
when I woke up this morning.
My eyes fluttered open,
and for the first time,
in a long time,
my thoughts didn't
automatically float to you,
as if on cue.
I fear you're fading from my memory,
one soft kiss at a time.

If you only knew
the details of my past...
If you could give me
a love that would last...
If you could heal me
without a cast...

Then I'd tell you everything,
and this gap would be surpassed.

If you would forgive me
and hold me tight...
If you would just see me
in a different light...
If you could do this
then I just might...

Let the skeletons in my closet
come into the light.

I stepped into the bitter cold
Just to have snow blown on my face,
And an ice old wind force my eyes shut.
Mornings like this make me long for the beach
More than anything else,
(except you. . . But that's a different longing entirely).
I'd lay out on the sand,
Until I had that sun kissed glow
That only the beach can give,
If I were at the beach.
I wouldn't mind a little sand
In my salty, ocean tossed hair.
Maybe if I were at the beach,
I'd find a charming boy to whisk
Me away from everything with
Just one sweet, stolen kiss...
But that's a different longing entirely.

As expected of the average teen,
It was a commonplace thing
for me to be awake
at 2 AM.

Now things are different.

9 o'clock onward used to be my
favorite time of the day.
The moon would dance across the sky
and everything was somehow
beautiful.
Especially you.

But now, I don't see the moon. . .
I only see your dimly lit face
through my computer,
and hear your deep voice.
Only see your hands
forming into hearts,
and a love in your eyes
that is no longer meant for me.

**That's when it's bedtime.

"Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything?"

- Infinite silence. -

"Everything becomes real after you realize
How many people don't care about you."

"You might not know this,
But I'd go out of my way
Just to make sure you're okay,"
[She said with a downcast glance.]

"I don't think I'm emotionally stable enough for that."

- Suddenly, it's hard to breathe. -

Sometimes I get so sad that
I completely shut down...
And I feel like it's easier to sail away
With sadness
Than to battle the current
Trying to make my way back
To shore.

"When did this happen?
When did your scars become on purpose?"

"Just go and leave me alone."

"I miss the days when things were simple,"
[She whispered as she softly shut the door.]**

I stare blankly at the wall,  
And it doesn't matter
what anyone says to me
Because in that moment,
I don't exist.

You and I were different,
But it all started with a smile.

We came from different worlds,
And I actually believed you loved me.

After everything, I must confess
I need you.

But you never came back.

I think the worst part wasn't losing him...
it was losing me.

But there are no happy endings:
Endings are the hardest part.

I come from a town
where the stop signs are purple,
the children are inquisitive,
and the music is pure.
Melodic lines pursue me
from the places I've come,
with close harmonies, intricate rhythms,
and beautiful women to sing them.
My curls dance with the steel strings
of my favorite guitar as I play
on the corner by the coffee shop,
but I barely notice; for
I finger my favorite
guitar pick necklace,
remember the bow-tied boy
who gave it to me.
The corners of my lips turn up,
remembering
the bow-tied handsome boy
who lives away from
my purple stop sign town,
where the children are inquisitive,
and the music is pure.

My parents are divorced,
And yes, it's plain to see
That their divorce affected me.

But that's old news.
I know one thing, one thing for sure:
That I am their child, but nothing more.

(Not a product of their misfortune)
If I've not been sentenced their same fate...
Why am I afraid to date?

"I hate my parents. They don't understand,"
She uttered into the phone
"They refuse to see it from my point of view,
And they won't leave me alone!"

I tried to console her, but there were no words
That could heal the pain in her heart.
She continued to tell me of the judgment at home
And how much it tore her apart.

Her parents were older (considerably so)
Than mine, or anyone our age.
They were very traditional, with old-fashioned views,
They were stuck in out-dated ways.

Week after week of silence passed,
No relief was found.
Her parents were devastated, as was I,
When her body was lowered into the ground.

The pressure built up, the hurt, the shame,
She felt that she couldn't survive.
I belive it was these thoughts,
That compelled her to take her own life.

Why do we judge in the way that we do?
Why insult, bully, and tease?
Smaller egos, and kinder hearts,
Could put our world at peace.

Screaming threats across the kitchen,
teardrops falling on the floor.
Children hiding in the corner,
attempting to escape the war.
When the neighbors hear the yelling,
the police knock at the door.
They demand an explanation,
but they get one nevermore.
My friends and teachers are concerned,
it shakes them to the core.
I excuse his reckless behavior,
but I can't do this anymore.

"Moving on doesn't have to be
Bitter and sorrowful."
That's news to me.
Mourning you,
Mourning us,
Was simply second nature.
But I became
So immersed
In mourning that the moon
Lost his iridescence.
Writing lost its charm.
My foolish grin
Forsook my face,
And all passion was gone.

Enough is enough.

It's plain to see:
You've found a new,
Beautiful girl...
I'll celebrate with you.
But I must ask one last
"One more thing"
Will you celebrate with me?
For today,
I've found my new muse...
And he's been there all along.

Baseless words
fueled by hate.
Just keep
your mouth shut.

Listen to the wind, boasting her great strength

Knowing of her cleansing powers, yet hurting all the same.

She rustles up old problems passed, and renews the hurt and pain;

She brings about a certain feeling, that of emotional stains.

What can we do to change the way things are?

Accept the wind for who she is, accept her for her sins.

If we can finally do this, then our process -- it begins

listen to the wind,
and
                   learn
                                        to
        ­                                                      live
  ­                                                                 ­                      again.

In the meanings of my many tears,
the memories wander.

I confronted the space between us;
I looked her right in the eyes.

Perplexed, I questioned her existence,
but she gave me a sly smile.

"If it's answers that you're after,
my dear, don't waste your breath.

Only time will sort and simmer
the mess inside your head."

She turned and scurried off
before I could object;

But love, she got me thinking,
about the heart that I protect.

The walls built high around my heart,
the soldiers and their swords.

From whom am I so guarded?
Who do I fear the most?

My love who holds the power alone,
holds me close tonight.

Today should have made a year and a half
Should have. . . but it didn't.
Instead of celebrating a day I'd looked forward to
for months, I tried to forget it.
But failed.
The funny thing about failure is this:
I usually don't know what i'm doing,
That's why I fail.
But not this time.
Maybe I don't know what I'm doing,
but I failed because I didn't want to forget it
I don't want to forget you.

Weeks have gone by, but I can still feel your arms around me.
You still haunt my dreams; I wonder
If there will ever come a day
When you don't.

I think about our lass kiss, back in early December.
The way you looked at me,
with so much love in your eyes,
and how you leaned in to steal one last kiss
before your parents stole you away from me.

You always had to steal kisses from me.

As we kissed our last kiss,
I felt you smile, and I smiled too.
I took a step back, just to be wrapped up in you
once again.
Little did I know that
was the last time you'd hold me like that.

I wish I could live in that moment.

I wrote you a letter, my love,
and was going to send it with your clothes,  
but I don't know if i can.
I asked my mother to mail your things back
the day after Christmas,
but they still sit on a chair in her room,
taunting me.

Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night
Sobbing,
Frantically searching for your hoodie
(I always used to sleep with it).
It is only when I cannot find it
that I am able to comprehend the fact
That you are no longer mine.

You will never again be mine.

"Relationships are a funny thing,"
That's what my papa said.
(This was his excuse for why
OUR relationship held barely by a thread.)

We were never close,
My papa and I.
I'd try to fix us,
But he'd be preoccupied.

When I hit my teens,
I hit 'em hard.
Those boys and I
Went way too far.

I'm all grown up now,
Wanting to get married
The man who's interested
Has never varied . . .

He's smart, and kind.
He's ironclad.
But more than anything,
*He's just like Dad.

I haven't painted my nails
since we were still
a happy couple.
Now they're chipped,
but i can't bring myself to
remove that blue-green polish
because it feels like the one little piece
of you that i still have.
Maybe once it all flakes off,
i'll be back to the old
me-without-you self.
Not having forgotten you,
just no longer dependent.
Baby, you were my alcohol
and now i'm just another addict
going through my first withdrawal.
I often wish that i could go back
to who i was before you,
but i have to find me first.
Until then, i'll endure the detox.

I walked into Walmart,
All eyes were watching me.
The mothers grabbed their little ones,
Hoping they wouldn't see.

They'd stare at my enormous belly,
And shake their heads in shame.
   Instantly judging me,
No love, just blame.

I was there for my vitamins,
I wanted her to be healthy,
I was determined to be a good mother,
Though I was never very wealthy.

When I was six months along,
Three boys came up behind me.
They pushed me onto the ground,
And kicked until they'd killed my baby.

Their identities were never known,
And they got away with it.
My "mistake" was too much for them,
They thought I was unfit.

I would have been a **** good mom. . . .
But they chose me to harm.
Because of their hateful decision,
I'll never get to hold her in my arms.

In the dreams of longing,
the dreamer hurts.
Knowing life is not this way,
here in dreams he cannot stay;
yet, these thoughts he attempts to avert.

Oh dreamer! Enjoy the fantasy!
Experience what life cannot bear
before your youth disappears,
before your joy turns into tears!
Dare to dream everywhere.

Those stiletto heels click-clack on the floor,
In your appearance, you clearly invest.
That model sized body swanks through the office,
With that push-up showcasing your *******.

Your eyes light up as you parade around the office
And the men try not to stare.
You wink and smile as you pass them by,
Catching the light in your hair.

Your goal is to have the attention,
Of everyone, every day.
How will you do this? Simple!  
You allow those hips to sway.

Color coded schedules
written into her agenda
tell the wonders of my life.
Speaking to the efforts
(which seemed futile at the time)
of the pilot's ex-wife,
who, despite her best endeavors,
could never seem to
convince them that everything was fine.
You see, the children,
who were never really children,
could read between the lines.

I look to the sky,

I stare at the ground.

What do I see?

Nothing.

I glance to my left,

I peer to my right.

Who's standing there?

No one.

I wonder what has happened,

Where can they all be?

But I am so focused on myself,

That is all I see.

I have an unhealthy desire to pack my things,
take the next flight to anywhere,
and never look back.
Not even once.
Starting over in a new place
where no one knows my name
would be quite the adventure.
If one day, I up and left,
my mother would take it harder than anyone else,
but even she would need only shed a single tear
before the image of her other "good" children
charged to the front of her conscious.
Then I'd be able to watch her forget me,
but only from a safe distance.