I hate how I'm not doing anything with my life. I'm young and I should be having fun but instead I'm always sad and hating life. It gives me a sick feeling because I know one of these days I'll look back and think why the hell was I wasting my youth just moping around when I could have been enjoying life. I feel like I have no good memories to look back on but God forbid I can't stop feeling this way.

i feel like i'm missing something, but i don't know what it is. when i was more immature and naive i assumed it was a lover. someone that would make my depressed mind whole again. but i realized i don't need someone else to make me happy. 2 years later and i still feel this empty feeling.
i guess i'll just wait a little longer...

I could write a million
Poems about that particular moment,
With our bodies so close together,
And my heart beating out of my chest.

The way you traced along my skin
ever so slightly
With your finger tips making me shiver.

You always said you loved my poems,
You said they made you feel free
And that you only wanted me.

So here I am writing a poem,
All & only for you.
And I just wanted to say,
I only want you too.

they told me i was too young,
but what the hell did they know.
so what if i was in love with a boy
who always had messy hair and
eyes the color of the sea during a storm.
after years of being silent
i found someone who would listen,
rides in the backseat of a truck,
wind blowing my hair,
old rock music playing on the radio,
drinking coffee at 10 pm.
you made it seem okay to be so different.

I've fallen for your laugh, which is utterly contagious.
I've fallen for your smile, which makes me giddy for no reason at all.
I've fallen for our late night talks, when 1 am arrives far too quickly.
I've fallen for our jokes, which I'll remember days later and burst into laughter.
I've fallen for how you can make my day better, even if I wanted to cry a minute before.
I've fallen for every second I get to spend with you, even if those seconds will always leave me wanting more.

she always crossed the street so suddenly,
she would stand right on the curb as cars flew past her.
she wanted to drop out of high school.
run away, and just live her ******* life.
she hated being tied down to something or someone.
she taught me life shouldn’t be taken so seriously
and to live in the moment more often.
she was this mysterious, fearless girl
who wanted nothing more than to figure out this huge ****** up world.

Inhaling loudly, she is mindful and content. She stands in the center of the skyscraper building, swamped by the tick of high heels and chatter. She is hesitant and anxious, but composed. A number of scenarios go through her head, as a mass of bodies walk past her small frame. She goes for it, and walks confidently toward him. She clutches onto her files and folders. He sees her now, he smiles. The small interaction makes her stumble, and her hands let loose, papers floating through the air and swiftly skimming the floor of the office building. He helps her gather the papers, and they both stand tall, inches away from each other. “I’m such a clumsy, I mean I’m such a clutz.” He laughs, she laughs.

she was the kind
of pretty that you didn't
really notice at first
but once you saw her in the middle of the night
with messy hair and tired
eyes and tears dancing across
her cheeks and dripping
onto her mouth you
would want nothing more
than to kiss them away

make you pancakes
kiss you
remind you everyday of how much I love you
read you books
watch movies with you
draw you pictures
take pictures with you
cuddle with you
hug you
hold your hand
make you coffee
tell you all my secrets
write you love letters
send you good morning texts
**love you unconditionally

We are constantly blinded to true beauty, blinded to the light in good. We fall into darkness, we feel alone & we feel like we're not good enough. We feel like we can't measure up, and we get scared that we won't be excepted in the world. What we don't ask our self is why would we ever want to be excepted into this cold place called home. A place where beauty can only be judged by appearances, but in reality beauty is so much more. We take all these flawless things for granted, and we pass them up every day. We have eyes, but we choose not to see. We don't focus on the small things in life like the simplicity and the utterly outstanding beauty, we just focus on objects and what a person has. I know what it feels like to be unhappy, to be judged by how you look and to fake a smile at school. To act like everything is fine but really inside it's killing you. You just want to break down and let it all out but you just can't. So why is this world so fake, why do we judge each other, why are we mean? Life isn't to fulfill desire, but rather to eliminate it. To eliminate what you are told you need to have.

there is a reason that mouths close & and ears don't

I don't understand how you can smile all day long but cry yourself to sleep at night. How pictures never change but the people in them do. How your best friend can become your worst enemy, or how strange it is when your worst enemy turns into your best friend. How forever turns into a few short months that you'd do almost anything to get back. How you can let go of something you once said you couldn't live without. How even though you know something is best for you, it hurts just the same. How the people who once wanted to spend every second of their time with you, think a few minutes of their time is too much to spare. How people make promises despite how common it is for promises to be broken. How people can erase you from their lives just because it's easier than working it out.

Is this what dying feels like?
To the early mornings, puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and hiding myself under the sheer linens. My vision is blurred as pain clouds my eyes. No words come out of my chapped mouth. Dead silence. No food. No sleep.
All you can do is pray and take it.

i get sad because

you are                                                              ­                                        and i am
  over                                                        ­                                                      over
  ther­e                                                                ­                                             here

                                                     when we should
                                                        be­ **together

i drink
not to forget,
but to relive
my former life; my spotless mind
i drink to see
the other me, before
the pills and knives
and screaming cries
hatred is consuming me
and the worst part is,
i love it.

My childhood, what a rosy picture. The Texas drought was over. You could see the dewy leaves, on the wet sidewalk. The tree’s, so grand, towering over me. The sun peeks through the branches, and a beam of light meets my eye. I see gold dust gleaming, glittering, glowing; which makes my yellow sundress twirl round, and round, and round. The clouds blush pillows of rosy gold. A light airy mist lands delicately in my caramel colored hair. No worries, no responsibilities.
All the grass is wet, and green again.
I am happy.

It's the month of crescent moons and burgundy flamed candles. Of burning sage and twinkling hooded lights flickering in frosted windows. Of icy mornings with scarves wrapped beneath pink noses and wet lashes. Of lonely evergreens and sleigh bells and a distant howl in the wind.