I have a hard time stringing together the correct words to form art but I'm going to try my best because
you make me feel like singing from the tallest building and
somehow there is a light in my eyes and it's not jusg the reflection of your words on the screen but rather the way you make me feel
fills me up to the brim of my eyes and I don't know how to handle that
you make the voices hush and sometimes they even join in the song with me and I have to admit that  has never occurred before
it's like you help me like myself and I never even dreamed of knowing how it feels to be okay with myself
you help me fill this vacant void in my soul and I don't know how to correctly put how much id like to thank you into words
the only time I don't completely hate myself is when I'm talking to you and oh my god it feels amazing
I have never found myself looking forward to a conversation that I count down until the person is out of work but my days drag when your messages aren't lighting my screen
and I can honestly say I could get used to waking up to your messy morning hair and the way I wake up with my eyes lit

The girl grew up.
Yes, she did.
She grew up to be a gorgeous woman.

That little girl that as a young boy.
You never want around to bother you.
Now is the apple of your eyes, as she stands before you.

Simply, because the girl grew up.

From the ponytails she wore.
To even with the braided hair.
From the things she did to ignore you.
From the time she showed interest in you.

The girl grew up.
To be a beautiful woman with a lovely smile.

You couldn't imagine you would be standing next to her.
You never imagine she would be the one you love.
Although others hinted you both liked one another.

But that was just their opinions.
Cause it was far from both of yours imagination.
Until you grew up to have common interest communication.

Yes, she grew up to claim your love.
Cause the girl grew up.

snowflake
winter dust
i have lost you along the way
deep down below my feet
from my hands you fled
i know i'll find you again
i know in december
we'll meet again

John Keats
John Keats
John
Please put your scarf on.

I wouldn't call this poetry
I wouldn't call this poetry because there is nothing beautiful about wanting to die. There is nothing lovely about hurting yourself, nothing symbolic about deaths kiss that I wish would kiss my entire soul.
I wouldn't call this poetry because it isn't.
I think really living is a lot like knowing there's demons lurking inside your head but checking anyways.
I think it's like getting home late and pulling back the shower curtain checking murders
even though all you have to so is pull back your own eyelids and see the very thing that's killing you
I did not sleep last night because I was contemplating ways to die while also telling myself not to do it
I think I'm in a paradox.
I wouldn't call this poetry because there is nothing moving about this.I long for safety like a deaf person longs to hear.
But how can you long for something you've never felt?
I've been applying bandaids to my heart except it's words and the adhesive they provided just doesn't stick in my mind anymore
Everyone wants to knock down my walls but I'm missing the safety the cemented in bricks provide and I promise you
Oh god I promise you
You don't want to come through my walls

You are the type of boy whose got saltwater in his bloodstream, bones like coral, and a heart made of driftwood – and at this point I’m just hoping someday you’ll wash up on my shore. I have seen the broken glass and beer bottle caps tucked in the folds of your sandy skin. I know how you left cuts on the feet of those who walked all over you. They were never sorry and you always were. Everyone else was too busy molding you into mangled and misshapen castles, only to stomp on them. Your soul was tangled in a mess of seaweeds and deep-sea debris. No one ever saw the brilliance of the sun's reflection in your smile that made you more dazzling than a million diamonds. But I noticed from the beginning that you were more than a temporary vacation spot or a convenient photo-op. and the shark-infested waters in your head shrank to puddles when you spoke to me in words like waves. To this day I can’t figure out what I did to deserve to be the only one you’ve ever allowed to explore your ocean floors, but I am grateful. I pressed my ear to your chest like it was the mouth of a conch shell, and heard the entirety of your ache without you saying a single thing. Violent storms churned in your belly at the hand of faceless puppeteers; made seasick by countless careless captains. But the sky cleared instantaneously the moment I came aboard. The same sun whose rays you’d always been wary of, now kiss your face the same way i wish to, taking utmost care not to burn. Your laughter is a school of fish filled with more colors than I can count and the sound of your sleeping breath is an ocean breeze. I am in love with the perfect shoreline curve of your mouth. Every day I find various buried treasures in your hidden coves and sunken ships, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of discovering you.

- m.f.