when you split an atom we all know what happens
so why do i doubt myself
being so small?

if an ant can lift a lot more than its own body weight
then shouldn't i at least be capable of lifting myself
of rising
of sleeping above the stars

"I'm just not into you"
Pour water on their hearts
Stamp the embers with my shoe
I don't carry matches, a flint, or gasoline
But the sparks fly, anyway

Utah is a bubble
And Rosario (Argentina) is the cigarette **** of Satan himself
Everything sacred burns
to the ground in this city, and it all started when the moths started to come out in the daytime.
They aren't afraid anymore.
The skeletal souls of men sense us in the streets, their scrawny hands ***** for reality through the haze--
But I'm not what they think. There is no price tag, no label, no packet of instructions- I am the very convincing candy wrapper with nothing inside (and there is an emptiness that swallows me up like a cough drop when the strangers tell me I'm beautiful)
Life doesn't come with golden tickets or rewind buttons
(I've sewed so many into my sweaters just to watch them unthread themselves and leave my soul gaping open again)
I imagine myself (in the end) trying to cover my existence with the filthy rags that remain of my life
By their fruits ye shall know them, but I prefer vegetables.
... Am I going to Hell?

There are bags under my eyes as heavy as the loads they carry through the streets (I was designed to help them)
It is easier (always) to carry burdens that are not your own
But the more I ask, the more they cling
To those one dollar bills
Fake reputations
The dead men that can't save.
Children play with dead birds in the street
And their parents roll up cigarettes from torn pages of their book of life
(They don't have time to teach their children why the trees sing sometimes)
People walk with their ribcage wide open
(Unashamed of their heartlessness;
unashamed of the slammed doors in our faces)
Sometimes I see the stars and ask myself how many times the moon had to sneeze in order for them to spatter across the sky like that
(People are moved by fear
But I am moved by lifting my legs)
I think I've forgotten who designed it all in the first place.

The hollowed-out hearts stick out of the sand like seashells on the store
But I'm looking for life
(and I know it's out there somewhere)

The world is a giant trashcan
And I'm a dumpster diver trying to discover anything beautiful and white
And it wouldn't surprise me if I've already found it,
Covered in gum and hair and crumbs in the backseat of a gutted minivan
But I'm so busy judging the books with no cover
That I lost track of my little paper hearts that I used to give with a chocolate taped to the back
And sometimes I stare into this rotted wilderness and ask myself if I've stopped existing
Because the rearview mirrors are so grimy that I can't see my own reflection
And when I can't see if there's lettuce stuck in my teeth, I refrain from smiling just in case
So people stamp me into the category of grumpy, grownup girl
But for all I know,
We are all lost pearls from the necklace of the gods
(but I can't go back looking like this)

Don't try to hold my hand (because I'm a jellyfish)
Love is like lightning,
Beautiful from a distance,
But just wait till you're struck by it
Don't try to hold my hand (because I'm a jellyfish)

I find myself sidewalking everything
So Silverstein was lucky to know where it ends
Will I ever be privileged to discover such a thing?
Too many trivial needs distract from its pursuit
But how am I to know?
When it's time, I only cared for my toys
The way the sheeple only care for their handouts
Do tell; if the Pentagon lays off 800,000 people
Will we know they're telling the truth about unemployment
When their words flow between mouthfuls
Of stolen fruit and gold
At the table of the elite
So tell me, who is John Galt?
I sit at a table with a mind that knows how to think for himself
And can't help but think this is the purest form of elitism:
Until at last the time has come
For the imminent end of all serfdom
Brought by the brawn of the brainy
How are we to keep our heads when the others ***** us over
Take our heads clean off to see the contents
Only the strongest can withstand the attempts to skew ideas
Upon who's minds the lying flies
Forced off by intellect
The simple last defender of God and liberty
Big Brother would have us not discuss such things
At times, I feel that we are the last in the world
So, tell me- if this paper is the last in the world, have we written something significant?
I've no doubt the world will see
The mistakes of society
Time then, will bring forth a new renaissance, with us as creators
And they, as the readers of some disconnected thoughts
Written at a time when the end of a page was a good stopping point for poetry, but not for the limit of government infringement on personal freedom.

I would suggest
Staring blankly at the wall
Matching socks or playing cards
(Something like that)
Something important
Until I'm gone

I would suggest
Turning your heart over and over like a turkey on a rotisserie for three days
Until it's burnt all the way through and the nerve endings are too charred to feel anything for me anymore

I would suggest knitting earmuffs for the antennae of your tv
Because it gets cold at night
And I want you to get reception to your favorite Portuguese children shows
Maybe I'm a saint for wanting you to be happy
Maybe I'm a martyr for wanting to be the one that makes you happy
I don't think happiness and my soul can co-exist in your heart

I was made for something a little bit darker than the stars of your eyes
I think that much was proven when I fell from grace into the hell-scarred arms of another
I am a creature of darkness

Because you are light
And I have been driven away

I just have to speak my mind, ok
It's this dysfunctional need I have to be heard
Otherwise I leak out everywhere and it makes a mess and it stains people's hands in these beautiful hues but they're colorblind
so all they can see is gray and black mud spatters
and my heart shatters at the thought that nobody will ever understand me.

-
-
We've made iPhone covers for our hearts
So we can pretend that we're just texting when it feels awkward just connecting,
face-down on the pavement of another human soul.

-
-
-
And perhaps every love story is the same story
Perhaps we've all just conditioned ourselves to tell it differently
In ways that make the most sense to us.

If you can escape me in little thought bubbles
Like I am a bottle of carbonated soda
((And you are the hiss that escapes me when I'm too shaken up to remember
We should have digested our feelings by now))
Then perhaps I should shovel my fist deeper into my mouth
To keep all of these words from dribbling out

I want my poetry to collect dust on the shelves until the pain is covered in layers of felt and can't be felt anymore
Wouldn't that be wonderful
And you-
When I'm gone-
You could take your elbow and polish the covers with your sleeve, wondering why it's hard to breathe when the mushroom clouds explode prematurely into your eyes, making you blind for a moment and unable to peek through the blinds of my ribcage to see if my heart still beats between the pages
Would you want to know if my soul could breathe between all of those layers of letters and lint from your sweaters that clung to me like meat hooks when we parted
Perhaps I write about those things
Perhaps these are premature ponderings, these thoughts of my heart
For I am not one to go unheard
I will write this poetry and it will sit
Fresh and cured and seasoned
Waiting in a meat house for a season
Until either you or I have the sense to eat these words
And come to terms with the fact that we missed our chance to be savored and loved-
Darling, I'm waiting.
For you.

I wish my poetry was more real
That I could be more willing to use my pencil as a scalpel and scrape out the gangrene infection left from the pieces of your soul that sit in my chest like shrapnel
We weren't very good at open heart surgery, were we
I didn't care that you cheated your way through med school the way you cheated on the promises you made between breaths as we read each other's minds with our lips
I would give anything to know if it's my heart that is the puppet in this chaos, or if my body is the one being pulled by the strings you wound around my waist before you told me that we couldn't be together anymore
Who is the major player on this stage, anyway
With clouds as curtains and stars as spotlights when we need them most
We are but actors
Living separate lives
We haven't exchanged lines with each other for nearly 6 months
Well
We did
But that was off-book, backstage
Where nobody but the cockroaches and dust bunnies could clap beneath our feet as we realized-
I still love you

The saddest things in the world are found between the lips that sip from coffee mugs
Trying anything to start their hearts
Up
Again

There are just some things
That will never leave your heart after you see them
Like your 6 year old sister heaving a bowling ball all the way to the lane
Just to let it drop
thud
And watching in anticipation as it creeps towards the pins
It's not even those things, really
It's just the fact that I will miss her little smile
I'll miss
watching her grow up

It's like
I would give anything to be melting into your lips right now
To have you pull your fingers through my hair, ripping out the split ends and insecurities, wanting to make me feel perfect for you again
And I
Would take your face in my hands and press it closer, making me your mask as we try to unbreak the relationship that's broken
And the hushed, delicate murmur of our hearts would beat against each other's bodies in the perfect silence
*"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Matter cannot be created or destroyed
Is love the same
Has it always existed
In one form or the other
If so
My love and I
Well
We have loved forever (we just hadn't found each other)
And forever is a circle
Which means we never began and we will never stop

I think you set me on fire
I mean
We were a match, right?
And our kisses were gasoline
I didn't realize it sooner
But I am much more flammable than the others
But you struck the match
Instead of keeping it forever
You thought it would be beautiful to watch our passion burn for a moment or two
I am naught but ashes now
I can't sleep
But
Every time I close my eyes I think of you
And I sneeze so often from the dust particles left behind that it's a lot more often than you'd think
I tried to fit myself into an urn for you
But I have this bitter feeling in my dark remains
Because we both know I am no longer beautiful enough to be kept
So I will cast myself across the ocean
And perhaps I will rise
Like a Phoenix
And let the wind carry me on

I am self-conscious about my body
There is something about strangers on the street
Looking me down, chasing me down, asking for my number before asking for my name
That I have never liked a little bit
Not even at all

It makes me more self-conscious than I already am
I don't have a perfect body
I pick at the skin on my thumbs and they're permanently scarred and that makes holding hands as difficult as finding my heart under the trees I planted in my liver to shield it from the sun of my lover because I couldn't bear the thought that I wasn't as beautiful as him

I have a small chest
I heard once
That the first thing men notice about a woman is her eyes, and the first thing women notice about men is that they are a bunch of liars
So these strangers must notice that
And it gives me anxiety to wonder why they would still have an interest

There is nothing striking, beautiful, or breath-taking about me
Until I speak (I think)
My personality makes up for everything else
At least, I try to make it so
But you don't know me

So why are you chasing a short, ordinary, nobody across the street
What am I to you?
What do you see in me?

I scratch up my own insides
Because there isn't a window
Not one
And how am I supposed to tell how things really are
If all I can do is feel them
Like I feel you
Now

the thing about anonymous valentines
is that he could be dead
and i'd still want to put his name in the space,
part of my heart would still be convinced
that he left this hot air balloon with a bear in the basket on my porch. sigh.

happy valentine's day
my nameless
faceless
lover.
whoever you are.

From: girl

convincing us we have "followers"
of what
our personality
our religion
our values
our way of life
there is nothing to "like" about inconsistent imperfection, am i right
trying to make each of us gods
before we have thoroughly proved anything to anyone about our worthiness
zero effort needed

It was a catch and release
But you never took the hook out
Reeling me back in whenever it's convenient for you to show your friends the incredible catch you are capable of procuring from a sea of nobodies
I am terrifying and beautiful
Terrified and wide-eyed
Yes
I loved you
I love you
Please stop.

I am filled to the brim

My thoughts leaking out of my ears in rivulets in an attempt to find your abode,

A salty little stream running back down the calf
(From the soaked swimming trunks of a toddler as he makes his way up the shore)
Sliding through the sand
Downward toward the ocean (you)

With zero effort on your part

I mean

We haven’t seen each other

Really seen each other

Since July

I am still leaving pieces of you behind everywhere I go

The bridge I’m trying to build is so scattered, with such wide spaces between the slats

That it’s impossible to get over you.

I could be the little swallow who sings for you
But your hands are a prison
Not a birdhouse

A paint bucket filled to the brim with blue
Sitting on top of a ladder
Right before the earthquake

i went to a witch doctor who uses natural ways of healing
and by witch doctor i mean chiropractor, but the term sounds better for the situation i am about to describe
he asked me questions while i held out my arm
and if my arm fell easily to my side by the pressure he was applying, it meant no
so he asked if i had a heart wall
and my arm fell easily, like the way i fell for you
telling him no
(it was something i already knew but had hoped i suffered from because wouldn't it make life simpler to blame my infirmities on something so emotional and beautiful and dysfunctional we would have constructed together)
he told me my body had nested emotions in other places so as to keep my heart open and vulnerable
one of the places was my left arm
and i didn't realize until tonight that when we first held hands
and your heart was racing so fast i could feel it in my palm
it was my left hand
and
well
that is significant

i could tell you they're freckles but i'd be lying and i don't want to stoop to the level of performing cosmetic surgery with words
i don't want to pretend to be beautiful if i'm not
so i will tell you the truth long before we're married
tell you about the tiny white scars that will adorn my body
when you see me for the first time
really see me

Someone should drop a rock on me like a paperweight
At the bottom of a well
So I can decide if these words are worth keeping
What
Don't you feel like you might be blown off the desk sometimes, too
There are a lot of settings for the ceiling fans and even if they whistle some of them might not be as avid for your autograph as you'd think
Sometimes there isn't a difference between fan mail and hate mail
It's just people who are too tired to empty their souls into a pitcher and the paper makes a wall around their drooping sandbag hearts
And I forgive them
Because the well was dry long before anybody could refill it

I could very well end up in a wastebasket for my trouble
But I want to be worth remembering by my deeds not my name

I had a dream that you never deleted any pictures of me
And the one you took of me where the sunbeams were coming out of my hair
While we ate chicken nuggets and drank Dr. Pepper from McDonald's
The one you told me I looked beautiful in
Well
You'd kept it
After all this time

While everybody else is getting out of bed, I'm usually getting in it
.. Why am I up this early? Right. He needs to get to school.
I'm not in it to win it and there's a thousand ways you can skin it
I wonder if this song makes him sad, because of her
My feet have been on the floor, flat like an idle singer
He seems more focused on driving than the song, though
Remember winger, I digress, I confess you are the best thing in my life
This could be the last time we ever have a chance to talk one on one, and we're silent
Just... listening to the radio.
But it seems normal.

But I'm afraid when I hear stories 'bout a husband and wife
Me too. That's why my best guy friend is my brother.
There's no happy endings, no Henry Lee, but you are the greatest thing about me
... Bro.  There are a million and a half things I want to say to you right now
If it's love
This song is a lot different when you think about family bonds instead
And we decide that it's forever, no one else could do it better
Really, though, Train.  Dallin and I.  Friends for life.
If it's love
And we're two birds of a feather* *he's been my best friend since the age of 1 then the rest is just whatever
And if I'm addicted to loving you and you're addicted to my love too
We're both sort of forever alone now. Since she broke his heart...
We can be them two birds of a feather that flock together
That's us. Right now.
Love, love, got to have something to keep us together
Love, love, that's enough for me
I wonder where we'll end up.  In 2 months, I'll be in Argentina.
Took a loan on a house I own, can't be a queen bee without a bee-throne
I wanna buy you everything except cologne 'cause it's poison
I wonder if Dallin still wears Axe...
We can travel to Spain where the rain falls mainly on the plain side and sing
Why didn't we have more adventures together?
'Cause it is we can laugh, we can sing, have ten kids and give them everything
I wonder how many kids we'll have... and if our spouses will be adorable
Hold our cell phones up in the air and just be glad that we made it here alive
On a spinning ball in the middle of space,
I love you from your toes to your face
Seriously, bro.  If this song makes you sad, I'll turn it off.  But I feel like we're both thinking.  A lot.  So it doesn't matter.
If it's love
And we decide that it's forever, no one else could do it better
If it's love
And we're two birds of a feather then the rest is just whatever
Really, though.  She doesn't matter in the end.  Family matters, though.  Family matters in the end.
And if I'm addicted to loving you and you're addicted to my love too
We can be them two birds of a feather that flock together
Love, love, got to have something to keep us together
Love, love, that's enough for me
You can move in, I won't ask where you've been
Really, though. I'm always here for you.  Except that I'm leaving.... But I have to leave.
'Cause everybody has a past
There's a lot I never told you.  And I know you'd understand if I told you. But I don't want to disappoint you as an older sister.
When we're older we'll do it all over
Again
Will we still be close when we're older?
When everybody else is getting out of bed, I'm usually getting in it
Truth.  Why am I up this early again? Right.  He needs a person.  He needs a human right now.
I'm not in it to win it,
I'm in it for you
I'm up this early for you
If it's love
And we're two birds of a feather, then the rest is just whatever
Then the rest is just whatever
If it's love and we decide that it's forever, no one else could do it better
And if I'm addicted to loving you and you're addicted to my love too
We can be them two birds of a feather that flock together
Love, love, got to have something to keep us together
Love, love, got to have something to keep us together
Love, love, that's enough for me
*My brother.

9/11 was the end of the world
but people are still getting up, getting dressed, going to work, being normal
obama's re-election was the end of the world
but people are still getting up, getting dressed, going to work, being real people
the mayans predicted the end of the world
the government is restricting gun rights
on the streets in the Middle East the innocent die
it's the end of the world
but everyone is wrong

take a good look around on the freeway
a mass of metal and gears controlled by one person
i refuse to believe the world is headed for hell
until
nobody trusts each other enough
to drive cars on the same street anymore

i'm about to open a casket of dead things that i never wanted to look at again
but the fact that you've walked all over the grave makes me sad so i'm opening it and i'm showing people the parts of me that died and why i'm alive but still broken (a little)
you asked if he'd ever defiled me in any way, shape, or form
words count, right
well
i was honest and told you the ways and shapes that my body had gotten away from me a little
in his hands
and you
well
after we stopped talking you made light of everything
and this is just a nonsensical rant jammed between dirt and worms in a can
but i wish i'd known that i meant more to you than those things
if not right now, at least in the past
but i guess i shouldn't expect so much from you anymore

walk me through the architecture of this ribcage
tell me why my heart keeps collapsing on itself
i mean-
it's ok
i manage to get by with the wooden popsicle sticks i construct for when the teacher tells me it's time to check my throat for sickness and my hair for lice
i know i'm just another fixer-upper
but what good would i be if i was perfect
no,
really
society builds up these things just to tear them back down again
look at the rising stars
the way they always have to fall
in the end
and to what end?
hm
nobody can handle being told that they're not beautiful or famous enough
so they plaster beautiful, famous faces onto the wallpaper of the grocery stores
just to tell you that those celebrities aren't beautiful or famous enough, either
nobody's perfect
everyone wants to be perfect
but when somebody is finally perfect at something
we ****** them out of the sky like fireflies
and pretend we know
why they don't shine brighter

he handed me the sky in a pitcher
and told me to bathe in it
so i undid my hair and my shirt and slid into the ocean that frothed over with white clouds and swirled like the mist in hot chocolate
and as he watched me i had a thought and asked if he fished out the sunlight on purpose
because that was my favorite part
well
he leaned across the cold bathtub, took my face in his hands
his eyes fluttered shut, and he whispered
you are the sun

I have this dysfunctional need to tell you that I love you, and I know the cure
But I like to think these robot arms would start working again if you would just say you loved me back
But I know that I tied myself to this invisible chair, so how can words do anything to cut this rope the way you cut me
I also have this dysfunctional need for Dr. Pepper
Because I heard that cola products can take the rust off of these dysfunctional arms as well; the only problem is I’m treating just one symptom of a widespread disease
And the root of the disease, everything that’s wrong with me?
I went to the chiropractor today
And he told me I’m allergic to myself, and in saying that I know he means I’m allergic to every single thing I took into my body that made me who I am
Well
That includes you

everyone should be more like flowers because flowers only open up when the sun shines-
they only absorb light

in a room full of peacocks
i am now an ostrich
and i don't know if any of you know how it feels to be a splash of grey in a room full of brilliant blues and greens
it's like being a lonely, pitiful cloud against a blue sky with leafy trim
maybe i have my head in the sand because i don't want to be shallow
but you'd be right if you guessed it's because i actually don't want to be seen when my face looks like this
which is such a cowardly thing to do
(i really shouldn't care)
i read Journey to the Center of the Earth in middle school,
and the only thing i remember is that it was the volcanoes that erupted (like the hives that erupted across my face this past week) that led them to find it-
the heart of life and natural beauty; more breathtaking than the flawless plumage of the peacocks

you wrote a poem once about how i was a flower and you were a monster and you dropped your grape juice on my white peddles
you spelled petals wrong
and that bothered me
but the idea that i was beautiful enough to be somebody's muse
well
i was willing to overlook the fact that you weren't good with hearts, so of course your faults with words meant very little to me
i dreamed in purple once
and grape was the taste on my tongue when i woke, which was silly
because your poem didn't really say anything about knocking a glass onto me like a paperweight to watch me suffocate as its juicy contents stained me violet
i just thought it sounded lovelier as a white lie
like you didn't mean to hurt me and it was just an accident

you told me later you made me a flower because they are at the mercy of whoever plucks them from the garden
and that's when i knew that you knew you had bruised me purple on purpose
i just don't like to think about the part where you are a monster

i don't know how to shape my eyebrows
and that concerns me just a little
because i don't want you to think i'm surprised tomorrow when i run into you after your show
maybe i'll shave my head like people shave ice so i will look cool and calm and collected
maybe my hair will be blueberry flavored and your face will reflect the brain freeze you'll have at the sight of me
nah

because the thing is
i'm a blender that's always plugged in
and you're the only one who can mix me up so much that all the flavors run together and i don't even know what to feel anymore
so i'll expect that tomorrow
the way people expect childbirth to be the most painful thing in the world
though
i don't think anything could amount to the pain of this band-aid being ripped off
over
and over
and over again

it took me nineteen years to realize that sometimes
you are the five year old child with sixty cents of hard earned pennies in your sweaty hand
and even though you smashed your piggy bank and clenched your fist around your life earnings
and counted it out loud at the register one at a time
that little red bike with the horn isn't meant for you
because sixty cents can't buy love
and all of the tears in the world will never change the fact that every particle of your being wasn't enough for a soul like his

all artists want is to create something beautiful
so we created love
we scooped out handfuls of the sun and swallowed them like lemon sorbet ice cream
and the ends of our fingers glowed like E.T. because we knew that home was anywhere but the musty places in our cabinets where we stowed away all of our bad breath and fingernail clippings to keep from looking imperfect
but
we weren't beautiful
and we weren't perfect
so we shined till we
burned ourselves
out

your kiss was a swiss army knife
i smiled because i couldn't help it
"everyone's going to hurt you, you just have to find the ones worth suffering for"

the world never fell out from under you, no
you constructed safety nets like trampolines because you were always paranoid about the end of the world and since i was your world you wondered about the end of me
but i don't think you thought very hard about the end of you
the one that got tangled in dreams bigger than yourself; the ones that validated you and made you feel you had something worth struggling for, a rope on your back to secure your insecurities as you scaled the molehills you made out of mountains
did you ever think about the girl who had nothing to prove
the girl who showed you everything and for some reason that made you the bigger person
it's just that-
i was peanut butter and you were two years old
i guess your mom never told you how to grow up and decide if you had phobias or allergies
because i wouldn't have minded the way the hives erupted across your face like volcanoes without a cause
i would've rubbed your back with chamomile lotion and tried to read your sores like braille--
but i was peanut butter
and you were two years old
and i guess your mom never told you how to grow up and decide if you had a peanut allergy or commitment issues
(perhaps you had both)
perhaps you were so scared of the reaction you would have to someone who would lace your veins with her own blood if you needed, someone who was so willing to hand over her perplexities and let you examine them like a rubik's cube- is that what i was
because i always made it perfectly clear that i loved you
because i don't like seeing you sore and angry like that
i hate the way i hear your bones sigh when you move
the sticks and stones were never really a problem for you
but i think the burdens of my words broke you a little
the words that always made it perfectly clear that i loved you and
i guess you would always ask why but i always thought that some questions don't need an answer
and the only thing i could think of was that if people really are dust like the Bible says, then i was a molehill and you were a mountain

you are my biggest sin
wrath
greed
envy
slothfulness
pride
lust
gluttony
rolled into one
simply because i want to be the one that decides your fate
want to shove all this poetry into your face when you reach the pearly gates
make you read about the greed that overcame me when i realized that you are all i want and all of you is something i will always be envious of in the arms of another girl
i want to laze in your gaze forever- is it prideful of me to think i am deserving of this, your kiss and the way your voice carries through the darkness when we sit in an empty parking lot with nothing but our words touching, the sentences rolling into each other and tumbling in perfect rhythm like a slinky down the staircase is it wrong of me? to have the need to stuff myself till i'm full of the million and a half things i will never be able to choke down and handle and that's why you are no good for me but i still delight in indulging in you anyway

“… or are we ashes and wine?”
    ~ A Fine Frenzy*

why do you creep [BAM!] between [-all over-] my lines
as much as I [don’t] try to cover [unmask] any trace of you [me]
everyone [no one] knows
everyone [someone] knows

you’re my favorite [most worn] pair of jeans [lover]
that I rip [kissed] apart [together] so many times that all you’re [we’re] made of now is
patches [of poetry]
[Letters] and [lines]
[Scraps and] rhyme

i’m always wondering [you know] what you [I] want [don’t want]
do you want to die [to live] never knowing [like that]

I climbed a mountain yesterday
In my favorite pair of heels

And how I wish you’d been there
To see the looks on the faces of people who don’t know me
Who didn’t even care

But there I was with blisters
And when they asked if they hurt
I quietly shook my head.
And I hid my tears in my hair,
Because there was plenty to soak them up,
And there was no other use for my curls at the time.

But I climbed a mountain yesterday
In my favorite pair of heels.

I know you watched me from the bottom,
And I’d wished so badly that you’d come following behind
Telling me I didn’t have to do this by myself
Even though we both knew I did…
If I ever wanted to be happy again.
If I ever wanted to love again.

So you didn’t chase me…
You didn’t.
And I know why.
I guess it was enough to know that you were watching
It was enough until today

Because watching isn’t the same from that far away
I think there was a moment when you thought I was happy
With someone else

But a smile isn’t the same from that far away
And I don’t think you saw the number of times I looked back
Trying to find you
Because this boy wasn’t you

I think there was a moment when you saw us kiss
And yes,
We did
But kisses look different from that far away

And they were never planted anywhere special
Like ours
This boy and I,
We planted them in rocky places along the edge of the mountainside,
Where nothing grows and no one will stop to admire them.
They’re already dead today.

This boy,
He found me on the mountain yesterday
In my favorite pair of heels
And I’d wished I hadn’t hidden so many tears in my hair like that
Because it looked limp and loose and ugly.
But he said I looked pretty when I cried,
Even though it broke his heart.

He carefully took those heels off
And softly caressed the blisters
I could tell by his face he knew that I hurt
And why I was climbing
And why I was crying
And why I knew I couldn’t make it all the way up there,
All alone,
To the top of the world

So he scooped me into his arms
And whispered so many wonderful things
I think you thought I loved him, because I smiled a little, sometimes

But he carried me farther away from you
Until I couldn’t see you anymore

But it shouldn’t have mattered, because we made it to the top.

We should’ve been at the top…

But I missed you still…
I don’t know if you ever knew that.
But I want you to know that.
And I wish you could hear me say it:
I missed you.

The boy left today.

And I don’t know why I let him run away with my favorite pair of heels.
Well.
I didn’t let him run away with them.  I only meant to let him take them off...
It’s impossible to get them back now.
I don’t think you know yet what those heels meant to me,
And why they should be important to you.
But I will tell you someday.
Because it is important.
And I think you should know.

My feet hurt.
And I really don’t know why I tried running that day.

Maybe I didn’t understand what it meant to just wait for a while.
I think you know I hate that word by now.
But I do.
Which is ironic.
If you think about the conversations I have with you.
Where you pick my thoughts like cotton
And leave me empty, telling me nothing.
But I don’t really mind.

It was a mistake to leave my heart down there
I forgot to pack it before I set out to get over it all-

-I’m looking for you,
You know.
I left my heart down there for a reason,

And I’m just stuck now,
Dangling my feet over the edge of the world,
Scanning the bottom.
Wondering where you went off to.

Sigh.

I boxed up the shirt with my heart on the sleeve
Cliché- But that’s the only way I’ve learned how to deal with things
And I don’t plan on ever taking it out again

And I’m not really all that sad
Because it has so many holes in it now, anyway
And wearing it would mean showing people too much of me too soon
I’m never doing that again
Like I did with you

I went to my dresser and pulled out all of the simple things
Simple – A word synonymous with ugly for almost everyone these days
And I dusted them off and locked those away as well

And I’m quite sad about that
Because I feel that someone (once)
Thought that they were beautiful in a special, old-fashioned way
That no one will ever see again
The last person I showed was you

I went to my closet and pulled out a mask
Mask – What you wore every day when we were together
And I slipped it onto my face

I won’t let myself be sad about that
Because maybe people will say that I’m prettier now
With a different face and a different personality
That I’ll never take it off again
And no one will ever know

I went to my mouth and forced all these words out
Words – My most prized possession
And I fixed them onto a page

I don’t care to think about that
Because it means my heart snagged in threads that
Detached from the sleeve
Of the shirt that I used to wear
Every day
For you