Roses
were the flowers that grew and budded
into great numbers
in the garden of my heart.
Left there,
by the mere thought and memory
of you:
• Your sweet smile
• Your eyes that shine
• And your beautiful mind

But like delicate flowers,
at the mercy of season's change.

Yours was no exception.

Withering
at the cold reality of your absence.
The garden shriveled up, as the warm embrace of your voice
suddenly vanished.

And I was left here,
in a bed
of rotting leaves.
My nose cringing at the stench,
dead dreams leave.

The surface seems sweeter the deeper you go.
Please give me your hand.
I'm too far below.

It's always darkest right before dawn.
How long have I been sleeping on rock bottom?
Have you got a breathing apparatus on?
I'm sending signals in waves.

This is a new kind of certain old craze:
holding one's breath til the end of their days.

A good captain always goes down with his ship.
Easily done when there are no lifeboats attached to it.

I'm shooting up flares.
Is anyone there?
They sail right on by when you no longer care.

I am so ******* happy right now I don't even care this is not a poem.

I remember when you told me to
let it go
The words slipped out of your mouth but never did you let pride slip out of your fingers
I know, because every syllable still stings
The surface of my heart.

Mr. Building, you let go.
Allow the wind to blow against your hair and
create wrinkles on your clothing
But never let it
Knock the dreams right out of you
Because
I believe in them and never will I
Even stutter those words to you
le-le-let
Me take your hand and help you carry those burdens
Don't ever drop your ceramic hope,
Cling on to your glassy aspirations because dreams
Are made of fine china
So precious
So fragile
So so so beautiful
Please don't let  your chin fall to the ground.
Lift yourself up,
Because the world deserves to see
How tall He's built you
But prove to them
That when the earthquake comes,
You height's got nothing on your
Foundations.
And if telling me to let it go
Is to break me back into concrete,
Powder,
Cement,
Then by all means demolish these
Stories and hammer through these
Crevasses
Because every broken window
Is worth seeing you succeed.
It'll hurt me to the very ground,
But your standing tall
Will help me recover.

I remember when you told me to
let it go
Your breath smelled of coffee.
I can tell you've had a rough night.

And maybe
Just maybe
you spent
those sleepless nights
Deciding whether you should
Let it go, too.

Letters jumping off the page
Not like normal words that stay in place
I close my eyes and hold the tears
And just pretend that I'm not here

Stupid is the word they used
Cause the letters I see wouldn't fuse
They laughed cause they didn't know the pain
Of seeing words and not knowing their name

Writing down things that never looked right
Seeing failure in near sight
I stopped to even try
Not seeing how dyslexia could give me pride

Confusion growing in my head like vines
So I just sit and act like a mime
Tears starting to to brim my eyes
I shut down and begin to cry

How can dyslexia give me pride?

It's 3:23 am
and I can finally
say that I don't miss you

Once upon a time,
in a land faraway,
lived an Oreo biscuit.

Everyone judged him--
he was black on the outside,
and white on the in.
He thought he would
never ever fit in.

Now in that land of biscuits,
where most were brown,
they all thought Oreo's
the strangest in town.

But little did they know
he was the favorite of the lot.
For in the human world,
his kind was the most bought.

Everyone learned to love him,
even the Fita guy.
But he told Oreo,
"Don't trust humans;
you won't want to know why."

But the Oreo boy,
he was a curious one.
He thought he needed to enjoy,
go out and have fun.

Later that night,
someone grabbed him, behold--
fear glazed over Oreo's eyes
over what he was told.

He was twisted and dunked
in milk till he drowned.
Then broken forever
and his life was summed.

For whatever Fita said,
it became so true.
Whatever happened to Oreo
Hopefully, won't happen to you.