I remember the way your fingers danced across my skin
a waltz, a tango, a salsa, a minuet
I remember the way your voice crashed against my ears
a whisper, a heartfelt love note, a scream only I could hear
I remember your eyes flashing that crooked smile of yours
an inaudible laugh, a joke between you and I
I remember your lips locking with mine
a distant memory from a distant time
I remember you now as you were with me
Not with you fingers lying still on her arm
Not with your voice mild and somber
Not with eyes retaining a picture-perfect smile
Not with your lips on hers
They would never fit
Her key does not match your heart
I have it here
Safely wrapped around my neck
And when I touch it
It reminds me not to forget

I heard his heart beat in my dream
I don't know who he is
where he grew up
where he met his first love
where his heart was first broken
where his dreams rose
where his dreams were shattered
where he is now
who he is now
all I know is that
I heard his heart beat in my dream
and I knew he was mine

The sun had already set in the sky as my fingers pluck letters out of the chill air
For the Last Day, you would think there would be much more noise instead of the chirping of crickets outside the open window
For the Last Day, you would think "What is she doing here, writing a poem, when she could be out there?"
For the Last Day, I expected something more...something greater
But when I think of tomorrow, it feels the same
There's nothing different about it
It's just another day
Another 24 hours
Another 1,440 minutes
Another 86, 400 seconds
It just goes on and on and on and on and-
Today is a Last Day
A Last Day of flings and dreams and dog days
A Last Day of toes curling in the sand and fireworks popping in the sky
A Last Day of thousands of adventures, great and small
A Last Day of pretending tomorrow doesn't exist
If you haven't caught on, you must be in denial
Because though it is A Last Day
It's not the last one

I try and I try and I try
To be something that I am not
To make beautiful things from my hands
To sound like an angel in a chorus of a thousand voices
To be a goddess among men and make others envy my beauty

Whatever comes from my hands is not what I picture in my mind
It's just a clump of lines and scribbles with no definitions or purpose

My voice does not carry an angelic tone
It's raw and croaky

I am not beautiful to draw jealousy out of girls and men alike
I am not thin and tan
My hair can't hold curls or volume for extended periods of time

What I can offer the word is this:

Pages upon pages of unfinished works that I view as my masterpieces
Words that flow out of my fingertips
Water from a melting snow-capped mountain
A raging river that refuses to flow in one direction

A voice, loud and distinguished
That commands the armies of a thousand thoughts
That brings enemies in with quiet curiosity
Until the foes are turned into friends

An inward beauty to replace what society judges
My smile is not enhanced or altered
It is raw and true
I bring people to happiness
With who I am as a person
Not how I look
You are blind if you can only see the outer portion of life

This is who I am
This is what I can offer to the world
And the world cannot force me to take it back
These are the gifts I was given a long time ago
And they come with no receipts