used to sleep easily
without thinking of you
used to go on social networks easily
without thinking of you
used to talk to you
to joke with you
to kid with you
easily, without any doubt
used to do my daily routines like normal
without thinking of you
but now
everytime i wanna sleep
you'll fill my imaginations
and when i wake up
i still have you in my mind
when i go on social networks
i'm hoping you to be online
when i talk to you
i'll stagger a little
when you make jokes with me
it's becoming more awkward each day
it's like i'm hiding my true-self behind the curtains
when i'm doing my daily routines
it's like i'm not doing one
because i always think of you

everything used to be okay

I realized it while I was high
and my mind was wandering around.
It completely blew my mind,
how I always want you in my life.

I am crazy in love with you
because I realized how much you love me
because you accept me the way I am
with my craziness and peculiarities
with my impulses and eccentricities.

I realized how I had never been in love
because nothing felt the way
it now feels with you.
How I yearn your touch
and long your kiss.

Because I find so hard to say
the way I love you.
How I can't write
how you make me feel
(all) the love I feel within.

I realized how much I love you
wishing you would feel the same
finding that you feel the same
deeply in love, quenched by love.

She slid her ******* on
and looked at me with a smile.
"You've done a lot but
there's plenty more for you to do"

She left her boyfriend in a week.

She put her hands on my chest
and looked into my eyes.
"I just want you to
fix me"

Her boyfriend was in Europe for the summer.

She put her phone face down
and never took her eyes off me.
"I told him I was at home
doing homework"

Saw her twice more and then never again.

She had the Devil's grin
as I held her hand in mine.
"Oh it was gift
from a friend".

Turns out he's her soulmate.

She touched herself and spread
the cigarette smell across my sheets.
"I need to have you whenever
I want".

Wonder if that's what she told the others?

She sat across from me
as we shared the same thought.
"We'd still be together
if it wasn't for him".

I owe him more than he knows.

She felt so strongly that
her words are the only I've kept.
"You're the only one I
trust enough to tell".

I lied to her and never saw her again.

So as yet another sits before me,
eyes bright, smile soft
with a sweet song whispering away between us,
I can no longer find any solace
in the comfort of the lie.

this boy
his eyes were the kind of gold
you'd find in a treasure chest
on one of your adventures.
his words were like the interstate
and his heart was bigger than
most boys'.
                                       and this boy,
                                       his favorite color
                                       in the spring time
                                       was green,
                                       because of the way his girl's
                                       eyes matched the blooming leaves
                                       this girl kissed like a hurricane
                                       and walked like lightning
                                       marking her path with her smile.
                                       soon she found another boy,
                                       this one more musically inclinded
                                       than he.
his favorite color in
the fall was brown
because of the way
a different girl's laugh
reminded him of trees.
strong and beautiful.
now this girl talked liked a whistle
and her presence was like a train.
he told her he loved her,
and she said she loved him too.
three days later,
she was telling another boy,
stronger than he,
those same four words.
                                       in the winter,
                                       his favorite color was white
                                       because of the way
                                       a girl's skin gleamed
                                       like the moon.
                                       he adored her from afar
                                       so as not to get hurt
                                       she saw him and left
                                       him a note:
                                                           ­  do you think i'm lovely?
                                       and he thought it odd,
                                       because how could she not
                                       see she was lovelier than the snow
                                       upon the roof tops.
                                       he ran to her
                                       and there she was,
                                       lips pressed against another
                                       boys, one much more
                                       handsome than he.
so thats why in summer,
his favorite color was red,
because that's the color
that was spiraling down
the drain in the shower
when he finally collapsed

                                                                ­                                 {l.m.h.}

Searching for the truth. All I feel is this unquenchable desire to create something beautiful. I don’t care if it’s a poem, a song, a painting, I just want to create something that expresses all of this life that I’m living. But everything has been said before, has been written before, has been thought of before. And I sit here trying in vain to create, create, create from my soul, but all I can think is what will people think? Is this good enough? Is this original? I feel like an amalgamation of all the experiences, people and places I’ve come across. Like if you stripped away everything that’s ever happened to me, there would be nothing left. Do I have a soul? Where is this stream of consciousness coming from? I don’t know. And I try to be okay with not knowing, but I don’t know if I am. I don't even know if I'm okay with not knowing if I can not know.

So in the meantime, I surf the web, look at beautiful works of art, and listen to music from decades long ago.  And I think that I’m changing, that I’m developing a clearer picture of who I am and who I want to be, but then I feel just as stuck as I did four years ago. Is this growing up? Because while I do hate the ignorance, the exclusiveness, the pettiness, I need the opportunities. I like to say I could live on my own, but I’m not ready for the jadedness, the financial problems, the 2.5 kids. I hate the restrictions, the normalcy, the surges of emotion, but I need the safety net. I like to act like I’m so wise about the world and the universe and everything, but the only thing I know is that I’m just as lost as everyone else. I’m so far from knowing the answers, I don’t even know the questions.

Or maybe I know the answers, I just don’t know how to implement them. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe, as much I hate shoes and love being late, I’m a creature of habit as much as everyone else.  Maybe I know that I should be myself and not care what others say, spend my life helping others, that money isn't worth much in the end, that clichés of peace, love and happiness are what I really yearn for. Maybe everything they tell me is wrong. It all contradicts itself, really.
Be who you are.
             but adapt to your surroundings.
Listen to your parents.
                           but search for freedom.
Learn to be assertive.
                                          focus on serving others.
Fight for what you believe.
                                                 but strive for peace.
Fit in.
    Be  d i  f   f   e     r      e       n        t.
Cherish each moment.
                                                                but make responsible decisions.
Love everyone.
                                                                                but separate yourself from negative people
they say
so many "they"s
how many "us"

To the point where I simultaneously want to scream
And be ashamed of myself for fitting into a stereotype of the rebellious teenager, good girl gone bad, thinks she could change the world one day, gets herself depressed over problems that can’t compare to those everyone else is facing, but that’s part of why she’s depressed in the first place.

So I guess it’s all about balance. Finding the right combination of the spiritual and the physical, the senses and the thought, the good times and the bad, the acceptance and the growth, the they and the us, the serenity and the passion, the connection and the rebellion, the creativity and the burning of the old rusty fences that are holding you back.

i’m 19 years old
and i’ve never written a love poem that didn’t taste like loneliness or regret
i was born with a sad mouth
the kind that holds nothing but tempesteous storms of gray
the kind that curses god, doesn’t believe in fate, and kisses lips more crooked than my own
you see
it took me 21 days to squeeze the ink for this poem out of my pen for you
because i’ve never written a love poem for someone
and because i can’t put you into words
but i’m going to try

1. you are the run on sentence that leaves me nothing but breathless
when you speak, i see colors i never even knew existed
i would lift my head to you if you said my name even with a broken neck
i couldn’t sleep the first week we met
because i knew the empty space in my bed was meant to be filled with the curve of your back
and that your smile was the only sunrise i’d be able to wake up to
i spend all my spare time collecting the different ways you’ve called me beautiful to wear as a golden chain around my neck, close to the pulse in my throat, and thump in my heart
as a reminder of how you’ve made me feel alive again

2. when we first kissed
i couldn’t even find the right words to string together to describe how i discovered home on your lips
i love you speechless and i am terrified for just that reason
and i don’t know if i will ever be able to forklift the reasons why out of my chest
but here’s a start
you want to know why i’m scared? i’m scared because for me
love was always a lot like throwing yourself off the edge of a building
and i had a nasty habit of falling for ghosts who couldn’t catch me
but your hands,
your hands weren’t callused, they were soft
they gave me amensia of all the times i shattered against the pavement
the first time i held them they gave me so much reckless abandon that i knew
if i took my heart and catapulted it to atlanta, new york, london, or cuba
you’d be able to catch it blindly
so please just outstretch your arms and do it

3. i know i said earlier that i didn’t believe in fate
but that was before i started writing this
and because you exist
i believe in fate now
because someone, somewhere
made you carefully, painfully, slowly, and deliberately just for me
because there is no other explanation
for the way my bones ticked like the angry hands of a clock,
counting down the seconds until you found me
i believe in fate now because
the moment we met
the possibility of you and i even breathing the same air
and the number of hellos and goodbyes we will exchange
must have been thought about for centuries
when we were nothing but dust

4. if i could take a minute
somehow place all the galaxies into the palms of my hand and rename every star, every constellation after each moment we’ve had and the little things no one notices about you
like how when you blush, you say “oh gawsh” and it reminds me of a bad western movie and my childhood innocence all wrapped up in one
or how you hate being interrupted
how you have a scar on your abdomen from that surgery you had when you were little
or how you wear bruises and bloodied knuckles from all the times you’ve hated yourself
i would do it
i would make this universe into a story only the two of us could understand
a story that says,
i love you…
for as long as you want me to (k.w)

She made you her priority
all she wanted was your honesty
you could have also shown your loyalty
but you missed the opportunity
now she's gone for good for treating her so ******
the girl just wanted a little consistency
could have been more heartily
boy all you showed was just atrocity
and you thinking it was some sort of comedy?
that girl has no more patience and generosity
at least what you could do is give her an apology
treat her more equally
act more responsibly
show her some harmony
stop showing her hypocrisy
and maybe, possibly
she'll considerably
forgive you for your cruelty
but this time, treat her more like royalty
she'll be yours significantly

Explain this love, please.
How can this be?
I'd give up my life to make sure you're happy.
When you're not with me,
This beating heart is empty.
This hand belongs in yours solely.
Science cannot tell me
This love is chemistry and biology,
Because my lips will forever seek yours only.
Then I think of our story divinely.
The Father, the Son, and the Spirit collectively.
God Himself answers my question relationally.
It's you and me,
With our God, our Love Trinity.

1680

Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few—love at all.