If an easy rain
would make the rocks slippery,
he would hold my hand.

A drip, a drop, a blot of blood
Colors my page, unleashing flood
Emotions, words (aren't they the same?)
On my paper, they share a name:
Poem.

I've heard it said that
to move on
is to grow,
but I disagree.
How can you grow if
you don't stop
sometime?
A tree doesn't run,
it stays.
Its roots
nurtured,
drawing strength
from its stationary
nature.
So I stopped
and I stayed
and I grew with you.
But then I figured out
that people aren't trees.

Tyra Banks was the first person
I touched myself to the thought of.
I didn't know what genitalia was
But her *******
seemed
so
inviting.

if I’m gone before the spring storm falls
don’t let me let your life be stalled
don’t stay alone or cry to much
or ever feel like giving up
just plant for me a pure white flower
and watch it grow each passing hour
and when the flower starts to bloom
paint it for me Maya blue
and if the world is standing still
I’ll be sitting on your window sill
and for I know you always cared,
for you, I will always be there.