I remember the exact moment we met,
You told me my blue eyes matched  my dress
And with blood taking hostage of my cheeks,
I made fun of your German name.

Yes, I can remember
the first time I snuck home to our bed, guiltily
lifting the feather comforter we spent hours picking out
in Bed Bath and Beyond.
A blanket that now weighed as much as a semi truck
crushed around your sleeping body.

Lying beside you, no dreams came
to relieve me from my reprehensible  thoughts.
But it became easier. So easy, that one night
I didn’t feel a thing when I slid under those weightless covers,
Kissing you goodnight, mumbling something
about ******* coming in late.

I remember the exact moment we met.
His black rimmed glasses and off balance smile
As he handed me a cup of jungle juice in a dim, packed house.
His compliments felt all wrong,
Like they should have been coming out of your mouth
But I drank them in
faster than the jungle juice in my ***** plastic cup.

Your face
the day you walked into our room,
that’s what I remember, and wish I could forget, most of all.
I’d coached myself for this moment a so many times
I guess I  never thought it would actually come.
I don’t know what was worse, the lies
falling from my mouth, or you believing them
because you believed so much in me.

I walk along the path of you and me
And find what once we carved'n mahogany
So small and deep that only I can see
What's ours among the lies an'disloyalty.
The tree he stands, weathered, washed up, and strong;
A testament to love so young n'impure -
Each dent is proof of lust declared for long
By youth enamored far err they grow, mature.
Ours too, is there, cut deep into the bark.
The 'L . plus J.' hidden among the many,
whose hopeless love required assurance - that mark
to keep their ferv'r from fall to worth a-penny
       But hark, my dear, I hope our mark does fade
       For ours, in heart, trumps any a-tree has made.

I don’t write to which conveys into a story;
I write to what captures an emotion,
a feeling.

I'm not exactly a poet or writer,
yet somewhere in between the two.

I feel unique and fiery,
under the cool, blue moon,
and salted and peppered under the dry, hot sun.

Fueled with anger, all my writing needs.
A new exploration through the journey unknown,
using awkward wording, unlike graceful butterflies.

I'm okay with myself when shielded from the rest.

walking as the sun sets spiderwebs cross my path and shine like fibers of time a moth hovers in front of me suspended in the air I walk slowly around it watching its wings flutter in place a man skateboards down the hill smoke trailing behind him like a train I stare the world is amber as the sun sinks in the sky diving into the ocean I walk and the sound of electric symbols like gun shots bring me back to reality an appropriate song for my mood balancing on the curb I notice that the harvest men have come out en mas their bodies the color of the dead grass that grows all around as they wander on their long spindly legs I continue on my sides aching my mind wandering along with my feet I guess I just needed to be out for a bit to have nothing to do no purpose or reason just to wander timeless

Sometimes I tell myself that I am normal.
Sometimes I tell myself that I am not.
Sometimes I could drown within the contents of that needle.
I wonder at what time do things work out
I wonder how many hits or how many highs
Could help me arrive to the place of no doubt.
That is my destination, but traveling never seems to cease.
The ceiling over my resting place
Will tell you secrets, if you just remember to say, "please."
Because so often in this world, we just take
We take from whatever is there, when there's nothing even to give.
We have assuredly erased the word "keepsake"
So if you do remember to ask before you assume
If you know that good things come to those who wait
Go with a question and ask the ceiling in my room.
Ask it for the needle or the tears on my pillow
But brace yourself, "Ignorance is bliss."
Some secrets can pierce, like an arrow.
Ask the ceiling for me, if you would
Because I should like to know about myself
All the things I never understood.
My ceiling has seen me, no doubt
The naked me, in the purest sense,
That will ever come about.
Sometimes I wonder just what it would say
"Oh that girl? She lies awake every night.
The edges of her mind have begun to fray."
Or maybe something quite different,
Maybe something like, "Sometimes,
She is very quite brilliant."
I wonder if it might speak with a british voice
For I imagine it does, but watch, it's probably harsh
It probably has no choice.
Sometimes I act like the ceiling cannot speak
Or other times I simply know it can't
But when I believe it can, it makes my knees weak.
But please, I beg of you, If you can
Tell my ceiling to hide the needle
Because my skin is tired of being the doorman
For my brain, my skin would rather be
Wholesome and healed,
The bodyguard to protect my immunity.
And If you happen to get the chance
Throw a wink at mirror
For it never gets more than a glance.
Don't bother to go to my room at all
If you can save yourself the trouble
There's nothing there at all.
The ceiling won't talk.
The pillow has no tears.
There is no needle.
There is no room.
In fact, there is no "she."
Only sometimes,
In my mind,
Are there even words
To define me.

I knew
The moment
Our eyes met
I'd fall
Madly in
Love with you
Oh how right
I was
To remember
My fear then
Is nothing
Compared to this
My terror to imagine
You leaving
My life
Again
My horror
At the thought
That you can
Break my heart
Again
And again
And I'd
Still
Want you.

The torment and agony of not being with you  
the joyous pleasures you put my heart through
Separation will make us grow farther
Our love under scrutiny like a martyr
Loving you at the speed of light
You always take my heart on a flight 
The wondrous beauty of you
The wondrous beauty of two 
Two is stronger than one, 
but we stand as one
Meet me on a hilltop
high above civilization 
So God can admire You,
his wonderful creation

Say anything.
Just don’t say nothing at all.
Don’t keep me waiting, don’t leave me hoping
you might say things you never really were.
Just say anything.

Say anything.
Say you never really loved me at all.
Say that it was all a game, all a joke and you got me well.
Say it had always meant more to me than it had to you,
That I had taken it too far and pushed you away.
Say it, if it’s true
Say ‘I never loved you’.

You won’t say anything at all.
Weeks of waiting have turned to a month of hating.
Hating everything about you and what I had been with you.
You won’t say anything.
You closed us like a book, never to open it again, never to speak of it again.
Was this your plan all along?
To say all the right things
And then say nothing at all?