I've died from cancer
at least three times
Convincing myself that I was so sick
without a single diagnoses
based on half conscious google readings
symptom checkers,
and of course
the way I was really feeling.

I've actually mourned my own life,
planned it out,
dreamt about it in the midst of a nightmare
imagined what everyone would do without me-

I thought about how beautiful
a slow goodbye would be,
I've convinced myself I felt bad
on days that I had a chance to feel good
And now I live the in between
In hopes to rid myself of this torture.
.
this is my sickness-
believing that I can die more than once
and ruining my life over the fact that
we do
indeed
disappear
from
our
physical
bodies.

It's true...
I divide myself
into teeny tiny pieces,
leaving behind
important bits-
that
cause a glitch
with the rhythm
of my heart.

Sometimes,
I can feel it...
The in-between.
The middle of what's real,
and what's not.
The moment
when all your desires comes true.
It's the second when it all collides,
like a meteor to the earth-
like the spring to the fall.
It's the moment
when everything's perfect...
Finally
you can feel a longing embrace,
suddenly know what it's like
to see things from a different perspective.
It's the moment
when it all crashes together...
All your wants and desires
finally
meet in the middle
with reality-
the moment when you wake up breathing-
heart pounding,
body sweating...
A moment when you question
what's real
and what isn't.
It's the moment in your life
when everything is silent-
But it all makes sense,
The moment when you realize-
it was only a dream
But it was perfect...

If only we could live
the in-between
The moment when we're not afraid to fly
or
love the person we are quiet about...
It's the moment when you survive the fall
to realize it didn't **** you, anyway.
All of this happens
In a moment when it all comes together-
A moment of perfect collision,
It was just a dream.

being an optimist
means living with the door open-
waiting for someone to walk in your life
with a bouquet of a thousand balloons,
take you by the hand
and lead you on your next adventure.

being an optimist
means getting back up
after your teeth have been kicked in,
knowing that there had to be a plan
for your new toothless smile
and so-
you smile anyway.

being an optimist
means holding onto hope
when devastation strikes
grasping the ideas that this,
is only temporary-
while your life...
is permanent.

optimism is about
looking up
when the world
wants you to look down-
finding laughter
in the things that make you sad-
and kicking ***
at everything
that walks through your door.

It's kinda like finding out that
Romeo and Juliet must die-
It's the realization that
the only way to have snow
is if it's freezing.

I never asked for a "perfect" love-
I asked for an honest one.

I can handle the tragedies,
And the freezing cold;
The unfolding beauty that comes after
is worth it-
but don't ever,
ever tell me
that it's not supposed to be this way.

"it is supposed to be this way..."

Naive to believe
that there's nothing that i can't handle....
Although,
In the scheme of things there's a few things that could break me,
But all my heart ever cries for is honesty-
I can accept that Romeo and Juliet must die...

i'll meet you in the middle of my daydreams
where the current meets the tide,
where the bend meets the road...
i'll meet you in the middle where it all collides.
together we can wash away, wash away the sunrise.

I've seen beauty in places no one thought to look
I've held on to hope when other feelings shook
I've been beatin down
And I've been held up
But one things for sure,
I won't give up.

I've seen love in some of the darkest places
I've seen beauty in some of the ugliest faces
I've been beatin down
And I've been held up
But one things for sure,
I won't give up.

I've watched a bad man do good
And I've seen a good man do real, real bad-
When the whole world seems to go mad
I won't give up-

Cause even when you get beat down
You find the hope to stand
And even when there seems no beauty left-
You'll see another man
And when that good person does something bad
You have to know it was their decision that was mad
So don't give up
Please, don't give up.

I'm checking out,
Check,
Checking out of this moment-
I'm packing my bags of *******,
Carefully crafting excuses,
Folding up regretful parts of my past
and running.

She's more beautiful
then critics give her credit for-

She bends at the spine,
pushing forward,
building tension
with those who observe her.

Her heart,
empty pages-
empty space,
room for words still unwritten-
yet seemingly full in the right place,
The beginning.

Her skin
folds beautifully
around the verses of her body,
Leaving you wanting more.

You'll be captivated by words
while falling forward
in hopes of a ******
that will help to create the perfect end.

She's a book,
well written,
Even Heming
would have his way
between the crevice of her words.

She's a book,
gentle to hold
while holding it together,

She's a book,
A novel,
A number one best seller-
Hanging onto every adjective you give her.

Hold her,
Read her,
Love her,
And don't you dare
put her down till you're finished.

Little bit awkward
As we sit here in silence
When everything
Before us
Used to be nothing but violence

We'd argue and yell
Before an argument even started
Choosing words like ammo
Handing over trophies to
The biggest 'broken hearted'

We'd shoot phrases
With precision
True Marksmen who could
Think without making decisions

A game of fools
Mending love
With wrong tools
Like artists with no talent
Until our love went silent.

Lost in a battle
between what is
And what used to be.

Inbetween the cracks
Of my hearts desire
I linger
Between the faithfulness
Of a love song
And the suicide
Of a love that went wrong.

My hands are gripping
For something to hold,
Something unbreakable,
Unmakeable
Something unique.

I'm lost between visions
of your happy faces,
like filling an entire page
with empty spaces.

I'm lost like a train
on a one way track-
Without direction,
without turning back

I'm confused with words
like a foreign language spoken
I'm confused with your love
Which has left me broken

Broken between what is-
And what it used to be.

fast paced breathing
can't keep up with my dreaming-
as long as your around

No one can find us there...
It's quiet like the morning after a snowfall
Our footprints we've marked with a steady pace can only be seen by us.

It's a path that leads to brighter days,
Happier thoughts,
Laughter and innocence.

Surrounded by hopeful beginnings
And happy-ever-afters that never end.
It's a fairy tale place
Of raw imagination
A place where I can snuggle your heart
And play with your hair
A place where I don't have to hear you
because I can feel you-

It's a safe place where we can meet-
Lets go there,
It's our only safe spot.

Let me find creativity in your finger tips,
Press them against my skin
until the inspiration we need
to create a masterpiece
is found.

It's the art of not speaking-
making ways
without the words...
getting lost in the feelings.

it's a world where people talk to much
acting careless over things that matter,
caring too much about things that don't.
but inside there's a world
waiting to be touched.

Let me master your masterpiece-
the creativity that's found in your finger tips.

I dream of a quiet room-
A room that feels like a 1969 peace rally,
A room that is bright and happy
A space without space
Where we can lay and be sappy-
while loving eachother
like beasts who care more about smiling
than they do about breathing-
With a simple belief that keeps repeating:
Make love not war.

I dream of a room
Where it's okay to lay in bed for hours-
Laugh at the world as it goes sour...
Leaving the universe with a bad taste of spilt milk
across this galaxy,

But it won't matter to me-
To you-
To us-
together we'll discuss
All the fears...
The fears that rage us,
The ones that cage us-
The ones that try to make us-
But we won't let them win...

Instead we'll hold hands
And lay silently facing-
the world is our canvas;
Our bodies,
The paints;
And it won't matter if someone cries devil
Cause we both know the love of saints,

In a room that lays quiet
Built of dangling paper stars
That dance over our heads nightly
Reminding us to be brave and knightly-
As we slay this universe
With our arms around each other, tightly

This is a room that erases old scars
And prepares us for new ones-
Reminds us what victory taste like
Time...and time again.

"How many?" You asked-
One for every time I had this thought...
While laying in this space
like a lost astronaut-
without you.

I think I'm high on Vicodin-
I just left the bathtub,
Embarrassed.

It happened when the hot water ran cold-
Only then did I realize I was happily sitting
in three inches of water,
with the drain down,
waiting for the tub to fill up.

he said he burned pumpkin candles.

I'm not going to fit in your box-
chances are...
the edges of my smile wouldn't fit.
I'm like that piece of mail that keeps on returning,
trying to deliver the same message-
over and over again...
love me for me.
you can take your expectations
put them inside that box
and carry yourself home,
I'll wait here all alone
for someone that wants me.

I
wanna
love a reader-
Probably
because I'm a writer?
Or
maybe
because
the silence
that a person spends
with themselves
to sit down
and learn something new
is super **** to me.

There ain't nothing
like an old fashion piece
of literature-
something that can
paint
your imagination
a thousand
different colors
by the power of a few words.

What's more
beautiful
than a writer
loving
a
reader?

A
reader
loving
a
writer...
while leaving
the inspiration
for new thoughts.

on the verge of something new
on the brink of something incredible
if only it were edible-
i'd serve it all to you.

shine brightly,
radiate through me-
punch holes through layers of darkness
like stars to a night sky.
surround me with your beauty
the invisible kind-
no wrinkled paper,
no need for time machines-
a glow so wonderful
you already understand what it means...
LOVE.

words without expression
escape from mind.
we're lonely behind bars
with the  jam of a traffic scene-
rush hour cars.
exhaustion
from tired lips
broken conversation
with the same repetitive glitch
trying to stay focused but can't keep ground
how many times for this go around?
fall eight times
to stand up ten

In the Kingdom of All Alone-
A dynasty is overlooked,
sitting upon her throne;
she ponders
"why does it feel like something's missing?"

A delicate crown she wears,
with jewels from the deepest of seas,
The Queen a visible elegance
who
bares it all on an open sleeve-
wearing her heart until it bleeds
Waiting for the right lover
to give her what she needs-
*"the queen of everything wants something else."

in the night she rides
weaving back and forth between clouds;
clutching on to daydreams
while bouncing from star to star.

the galaxy is where she's born,
in a soft layer between what's real,
and what's not;
in a place where magic seems to fit-
and the questions of logic,
do not.

in the sweep of the night she rides,
protesting gravity-
holding on to air
while flying faster than light;
she's a believer in all things right,
she's a warrior of the night,
holding on to daydreams
in the sweep of the night.

buckle your seat belt
and I'll drive you home
alone
down these safe and winding roads
let the wind from fallen windows
cast aside your fears
As we press down peddles
While slowly swiftly shifting gears
Bodies bumping together
heaves in the road
I'm your Designated driver
so you don't feel so alone
While driving home
drunk
down these safe and winding roads.

As
the
sun
rises
against
the
horizon
it
tells
everything
to
wake
up­
with
a
warm
whisper
making
way
for
beautiful
days
every
time
it
shines.­

replaying
old phone conversations
hoping that something
in the tone of your voice
would change.
it's been six years
a fist full of heartbreak-
and it still remains the same.
grasping onto hope
in order to cope
while life around me slips away
sticks and stones will always break these bones
but this life I live is for me....

I was more inspired without you,
your cut words like paint-
your lies like canvas
and I -  the artist of believing.

through time he travels
leaving the past unraveled
into the layers
between darkness and light
grasping for anything
that may feel right

he's trapped between what was
and what soon will be
he hopes for someone
to open up and see
that no matter how present he may seem
no matter how beautiful a dream
he's a time traveler
and to him,
nothing is how it seems.

breaking into form
by the palm of my hands-
two illusions.
illusions which fall through the cracks
of a grip that wasn't built to last
how many times do you out live the past?

close your eyes
draw an invisible line
breathe in the atmosphere
which surrounds you
at the end of it all
what you truly have
are the things in your immediate circle
and the ones who helped you draw it.

a little more educated,
very well deliberated,
my heart...
now hangs emancipated-
and will not go to waste.

maybe not being understood
is the reason we keep trying to understand;
after all,
we can't get back up
if we don't learn how to fall.

I'm
caught
between
my
dreams
and
my
reality-
A
scary
place...

My
fears
are
my
only
enemy

"Be
afraid"
It
says,
as
I
lie
awake
in
bed-

"Be
worried"
It
repeats,

Not
sure
if
I
believe
that
fear
is
something
we
should
keep-

No
matter
how
many
times
it
repeats.

The kind of love
a butterfly feels
as she opens her wings to fly,
for the very first time-
after making the climb;
as caterpillar.

I'd imagine
in that moment-
She is thankful...

I wanna love like that.

hard to understand
the value that people place into things.
things like forgotten photographs
or worn out tattoos.
once upon a time
you lived the moment in the photograph
or picked out (first handedly)
the colors for a vibrant piece of art
to be etched onto your skin, permanently.
it's hard to believe that
we all hold value to the things we love
much different the person standing next to us.
the fact that is that it all fades to black -
I guess it's finding value in the things that don't need color. ❤

on wings of light-
we fly.
without the need of getting high,
laughing at others as they float on by-
this is me-
when thinking about you-
about us,
together we can learn to trust
the new found freedom of flight
on the wings of light
and the downs that come before it.
lets fly.

i'm a star catcher,
and you're a star.

the
fall
is
a
perfect
time
to
miss
something.

soon
the
trees
will
be
missing
their
leaves.

somedays
I
don't
like
being
without
you.

fish
on
a
hook
waiting
to
be
freed,

oh
the
irony
of
catch
and
release.

My heads a mess
My thoughts repressed
From a weekend that I've spent with you
Although it is true
Sometimes I feel blue
I just want you to be part of my mess.

Lets begin:
Soft skin-
A moment in,
You're afraid to let go.

she writes letters
in different colored ink-
it's the same line
after line-
and each time
i'm selfishly saturated
with sadness.

if only my feelings could change-
like the ink
on the pages
that separates us,
but who am I kidding?

...we've always been seperate.

I can write a thousand words
And can't get the point across-
It's almost impossible
to keep up with my thoughts
of you.