My birth control is making
Me crazy again.
Breakdown, rage, comfort,
Repeat. Repeat.

Like clockwork,
I have to remind myself that
"I'm no monster", "it's the hormone",
"I swear I still crave you".

My love for you is
A radiant bloom, being
Suppressed and bullied by the
Bushes bearing thorns.

My hatred for you is
The shell of the bird that
Traps the life inside, leading
It to claw it's way out to breathe.

Wait for me to emerge,
My shell is holding me back
As a safety protocol.
I have not been born yet.

haunted by things that could of been
or are they things that should of been
i guess if they were they would of been
my lack of commitment seems like a sin
when everyone around me is happy
they have someone to be with
they have someone to kiss
when i have nothing but people i miss
all the ones i  really cared about
i forced myself to live without
to me it seems beautiful some how
thinking bout that girl from the past
but i went for another girl
becuase i knew it wouldnt last
now it seem like time is passing by too fast
and im losing the chances that i thougt i would always have with the women i thought would never leave
but they all do
what reason would they wait for me
they dont know how i feel
and they dont know how i am
i didnt let them in
because they were already too close
and thats when we hadnt even kissed yet
its like when you texted me
but i took ten minutes to reply
because im not sure exactly what to say
maybe i should have said
i want you
and i want you to stay

when I die

turn my body into ashes

and

spread it over the ocean

so I can go home

after a lifetime of feeling

homesick

As she moved it was poetry in motion
A product of her chaos and inner commotion
Graceful yet destructive as she leapt through the air
Through her movements her mind was laid bare

Yet those tears still fell softly down her face
Embracing the tears, she picked up her pace
Moving through the motions her mind starts to clear
Releasing her emotions a smile starts to appear

The music ends, she falls to the floor
The turmoil is back.........forever more

As we sit down to our dinners,
as we open our romance books,
people die.

We sip our water;
their guts spill open.
We study our notes;
their planes crash.

We live;
they die.
We breathe;
they suffocate.

We are testaments to chance,
to luck, to possibility.

We are not products of God.

We are blind goats trotting on our path
before we perish, suddenly,
and vanish into death.

I am no poet.
just a lost girl expressing her word.
and sometimes wondering weather or not,
I belong in this world.
with cold shaking hands,
I find it had to stand.
this world is so cruel.
why can't it just be me & you?
I am no poet.
but, here I am
waiting for you.
I'll give you a hand.

"daddy issues"

is that what they call it?
because I call it strength.

I have the strength,
to live life without my father.
here I am.
living.
yes,
I may get broken down sometimes,
but I've never fallen completely.
and I won't.
because i'm more than the father who left.
I have strength.

-l.j.t.