he listens to the treble of her voice—
and the silent ghost of the sounds that
fail to make it past her lips;
wanting nothing more than to dissect
the words of woe that weigh her heart
with a bitter aftertaste, like a
liter of ***** on a friday night,
because words were never made
to be swallowed whole and love
was, in no way, ever meant to be simple.
as the minutes go by he comes to
recall that despair is never a constant

sixty weeks living typical
scholarship school days, lonely.
lights of bubble rabbits,
a bath of wild flowers ­
two or six or three
blossoming poems about
sequence and roses
debts from our bones,
stars singing in our blood

Be my moon,
And I will be your sun.

She hid herself— refusing to be
bound to a life of melting when
was made to stand out.
Her flare shines ever so scarcely,
in hopes to be found by a star
that wouldn’t smother her.

He whispers into the darkness,
in hopes that in the solitude of
her frigid fortress won’t shatter
the words before her heart can.
Believing that he could show her a
rainbow without snuffing her out.

Lucy; a name bestowed
Upon me by someone who
Considered my nature to be
Inviting — for kindness was
Far too boring to
Entertain a friendship worth
Remembering

she became invisible to
his eyes because he was out
looking, for a light that shined
just as bright as the gem that
turned his somber nights into
a radiant daybreak that paints
his skies with royalty. he turned
moth to flame for a fair-haired girl
with cobalt spheres; a face that
was there when she wanted him.
she became nourishment for
his soul because on those somber
evenings, he always sought out
for her; a daydream of a damsel
with ebony abraded into her bones
because she hid from the limelight
when she had wildfires running in
her veins glowing; a face that
was there when he wanted her.
but she captured his heart because
it knew that even the sun can’t
wash the moon out against the blue
unless it decides to disappear

Baby, it is cold outside
but I don’t want to go home.
Winter wasn’t made for memories
and moments weren't made to last.
Keeping Christmas-safe each city block
for I am almost done ageing.
a possibility made of glass,
a relationship never made to last.
Please, don’t let me down.
you once told me, to believe that
winter was a wonderland
but death would be a great adventure.
I find it hard to write;
these memories will never fade.

I left it all up to chance,
because you never came
with a recommended serving size.
a sunset hanging from a string
and a handful of bad intentions.
love, death, adventure and a little
something in between — the
Calm before a storm. yet your brooding eyes
are filled with lost dreams and broken hopes
Because you make me feel like dirt
and i had a debt to collect.
a guy like you should wear a warning;
an infamous king of thieves with the jar of hearts,
a tirade come to an end.

I am truly horribly upset —
a misguided flame,
a moth to the light.
like a shot of *****
the elixir seeps between my lips;
some type of thrill
that makes me feel safe.
Nothing more but a anesthetic
with a bitter after taste
a mistake found a little too late
and a handful of bad intentions .
I am truly horribly upset
it takes seven years to erase every cell
and I am covered in your fingerprints.

He reminds me of faces I've
left in the past that I haven't seen before.
His voice is like an old song on
the radio I've never heard before.
He's a memory I've never made
catching up to haunt me.
It's not December but I can't help
but think it will all end the same.
Is this a second chance
or shall I ready the goodbye?
I face the future with uncertainty
cause people like you are hard to find.

Can you tell me the best way to live
when I left it all up to chance?
Followed the yellow brick road, followed its lead
unaware of the looming shadow
that hung in the air as the sky turned dark,
I face the reality that the world is not safe.

No one here is safe;
but they play by the rules to live.
Within the midst of the dark-
ness, they find a chance;
an opportunity in the shadow,
where will it all lead?

There’s a taste of lead
in my mouth that makes me feel safe.
My actions shadow
over me, playing live
in my head, over and over for a chance
to pull me into the dark.

His eyes glow a dark
red, as the taste of lead
seeps between my lips as a chance
to feel a little more safe.
The video feed is live
but no one noticed the shadow.

In the background, there's a shadow
of hate that lingers in the dark.
Feeding of your life to live,
closer to the darkness it'll lead
us far from the safe
we hid in for a chance.

You never had  a chance
because standing under the shadow
made you feel safe.
Disguised as the antidote, dark
chocolate filled with the bitter taste of lead;
this is the way to live.

It’s lurking in the dark
just watching in your shadow.
"Brought to you live."

your archetype is a jester.

your job is the entertainer.

your place is at the end of a joke

because you're the punchline of the day.

you're as real as a paper town,

an assembly line product;

you're the wild card,

ready to replace.

but i'm the queen of hearts,

and the deck has spoken:

we only need fifty-two cards.

so please, remove the joker.

We're looking for identity

not a face to replace.

I'm hard to handle;
like a shot of *****
I burn on the way down
and only some will come back
for seconds –
because my kindness
does not make me
easier to swallow.
I'm an acquired taste
for a specific breed.
No one can take me
in large doses,
a teaspoon a day
goes a long way.
Alcohol never came
with a recommended
serving size.
I'm a glass of water
in disguise –
so please,
drink slowly.

I am nothing more than a moon
who sits in the night sky
just waiting for the day i find a sun
that wont wash me out
against the blue.

if souls were made of things like:
compassion, anger and bliss
ours would be of the same.

the way we find presence
is enough substance to withhold a friendship.
the use of playful impiety  
is a reflection of deep affection.
in which we take all these and use
them in the same doses.

and although science says nothing
of souls but of cells and pedigree
it was always about how
differences brought things together
and our similarities drove us apart.

our bodies cave to the commands of science-
it's no surprise that the rules of attraction
bow down to it as well.

they say:
age is but a number,
distance is but a scale,
and time is of an essence -
yet i find their concept to be suffocating.
confining as it bends me to it's whims.

age is the number that decides who our friends are.
splitting us apart by birth dates into
elementary, middle, junior, high and college -
sending us away to embark on different paths
while others are left behind.

distance is the scale that determines how often.
when can our presences linger with one another
and at what lengths must we cross?
cities, state lines, rivers, countries, oceans -
at what point is the distance too wide to close.

time is the essence that destines if at all.
where schedules collide and overlap,
timezones over riding the possibilities.
seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months -
they all pass with one of us always a head of the other.

and as we move on with our lives, i see that
i use these as excuses of why we have drifted
instead of facing the facts;
perhaps we were never that close to begin with
as our memories turn to grey.

let me be original

let me show the world what i am made of.
I was told living
was all about not becoming
some print out that came out
of the copy machine
but some limited adittion
with a copywrite stamp
on the backside.

my brain is not some archetype
for you to fill the spaces of.
i'm not some idea bank you can
go to and pick out of when you're feeling
ų̠̈̔ n͍̈̇͜ i̘̺̐̅ n̗̜̽̓ s̼̜͠͠ p͎̱͂͆ ĭ̼̠̋ ȓ̺͕̕ e̢͙͐̎ d͎̯̀͐
i do not crave for fads but indivduality
that you destroy within the hours of release;
not even letting the *** simmer before
you douse it in flames.
my innovation nothing but a trend
no one knows the origins of.

i am not some carbon copy
so stop making me into one

they say i'm a hard girl;
hard to please,
hard to talk to,
hard to handle-
because they don't know
where easy got me.
he fed me lies upon lies,
vomiting my secrets across
the floor leaving only
a  bitter aftertaste of
betrayal hanging in the air;
the weight on my shoulders
dragging me down into the depths
as the traitor takes his leave.
they said i was a hard girl;
hard to understand-
because i washed
my backstory in a river and let
the letters bleed into each other,
because no one acknowledges
damage that only leaves a bruise.

i feel him crawling under my skin like a spider
( and i should probably tell him i have arachnophobia )
the constant attempts to make it stop turns my skin raw
but of course it only takes me f  o   r   e    v    e    rr
to find the courage to tell him:

i am not a drug addict
i do not enjoy the hallucination of his touch on my skin
the way he slithers under through an open wound
like some toxic bacteria looking for a place to grow
with this need to keep my attention pointed straight at him
as if he were polar north and i were a mere compass
just trying to find home.

but he'll do it all for love -
as if love were his reason to cover me in tar
and tell me if i listen to him, he wouldn't have to hurt me
i do it because i love you

love is not an excuse, it is not a motive
it is something to be felt, not some twisted blade you use
to throw into someone's back.
they told me it was okay that he was the reason my wrist
turned red every night when i was finally alone
in the corner on the bathroom floor, laughing
because i didn't know how to handle the emotion

love was the drug you slipped into my drink when
i was turned the other way
and by the time i already noticed
you already got me addicted to it

you once asked me why I was so
infatuated with a boy that tried to write me off
in forty eight hours I found some reasons why

he’s sweet and he’s bitter in all my favorite doses-
the words he told me were kind yet at times held a sarcastic playfulness I find in myself.
we’d tease each other with little resistance and
laugh at each others misfortunes with kindness.
his actions were soft no matter how aggressive they may have looked
because not once has he ever come at me
with the motive to damage;
letting him easily flesh my soul out for show.
the walls I put up nothing but tainted window panes
I once let him hold my raw emotions bare in his hands
then found myself cold from the lack of his embrace when he pulled away from the hug

and I can go on with these reasons-
these glimmers of hope that sound more like excuses
to why I refuse to let go and hoard his memories within my ribcage.

i am a warrior -
nothing more than
a pawn on a chess board
and all they do is stare
they stare and laugh
but once i cross the field
i crown myself queen

but i know once i look back
i will fall for the king
my victories nothing but wasted

they say distance
makes a heart grow fonder
or more forgetful
and when i lived no more
than a mile away
he forced himself to forget
the very essence of my existence
so in return i put twenty-two
hundred miles in between us
and i've never spent more time
wondering if the absence
would ever make him
ever so slightly indulgent
in any memory of me

he was my favorite song
set on repeat
played over and over
until I embedded every word
into my mind
and no matter how long
or how frequently I heard it
it’s as if it were the first time.

good morning
I love you
hello beautiful
I miss you
good night

until the day came when
I could no longer play
the track without that
404 message indicating
his location has been moved
asking me if I could locate him again-
I had no idea how to reply

the first time i tried this,
the page was scattered with
poorly doodled stars
for thoughts i could just
barely fathom in my mind.
a new plot for every thought
that crossed my consciousness
until the paper brimmed with
points that i couldn’t connect
one another to. but you of
all people should understand
that constellations are hard
to create.

how long did it take to find
the perfect combination of
twenty six letters that feel
like silk between my teeth
as i read the text out loud?
how many times did you lull
over each word with thesaurus
to your right, making sure
each word was caramelized
to perfection? watching carefully
for the perfect shades
of amber and rust.

the sweetness of the sunshine
yellow you feed us for hope,
and the dark rich mahogany
that turned bitter everything
that was ever sweet.
when we went looking for
the great land we found
nothing but white tulips
like an apology for not
being something greater
because life is filled with
nothing more than love,
death, adventure and a little
something in between.

and i never knew how love
even worked because
from the outside looking in
it is like the impact of
a truck coming at full speed.
it was going to happen
and it happened, there’s no
in between when honestly
nothing compares to it better
than the hardships of falling
asleep ( though the task proves
harder for insomniacs ).
from the inside you only know
only that it has happened because
love is an unseasoned thing
with a sweet aftertaste.

but this is just a side effect.
this is just the ying to the yang.
i grew up knowing too well that
everything had it’s advocate.
because time’s a **** and she
doesn’t wait on anyone, closing
the gates for anyone who
didn’t have enough to pay
the price to live in the numbered
days. But as days drag on
we find infinities within
our numbered days, the antipode
of time we call hope.

I never knew much about
the world until I started reading
almost forgetting that stories
aren't always about heroes
but people who wish no more
than to seek a great perhaps.

how can i be in
love with a boy who never
made me feel nervous?

i hope to find  the guy that can
take my breath away
before he leans in
to steal a kiss

i know that in the moment
before his lips touch mine
i'll be etching his name
into my heart

re·li·gion /riˈlijən/  noun
1. the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, esp. a personal God or gods.*


i grew up with no god or religion
never have i meet someone
that wanted to shove a belief
down my throat like hot iron
and told me if i believed
i would be saved

i spent life boundless
by your gods
but found myself roped
dragged in by this undocumented
goddless belief of true love
and soul mates

i spend my days praying
to this undisclosed nonbeing
hoping that one day i will find
this thing they call true love
that will sooth this heartache

I compare myself to the fog that surrounds our skyscrapers, masking it like a second layer of clouds. At some points we can see through it but never with clarity.

Like ripples on our Great Lake you can move me but not once gave you ever held me in your hand for I am always out of grasp.

And inside my heart you’ll find a cold iron bar because much like a magnet I attract as well as I repel. Much like all the wonders in nature, I don’t make much sense.

I’ve never seen stars until I left the city
Far from those over lit streets that went in for miles
I spend nights outside under the clear skies
Staring at lights that burned out years ago
It’s been a while but I’ve never seen one fall
Like I have under city lights
He was like some miracle, that boy;
Shot across my sky like a shooting star
As I stood under the blazing sun
And I have yet to see him burn out.

It was the low point to my life;
The vertex to that concave up.
I stayed there for the longest time -
Nothing to bring me back to the top.
Then you came with your kinetic energy
And scooped me up as you made your way-
It was like I was set to boiling point
But you came and turned off the power.
I should have know what came next
I’ve seen all the sines in every situation-
We were coasting though the waves
And you left me once we got to the trough.
A part of me waits for your return
Even if it’s just to turn the boiler back on

i never told him now i felt
not once had the intention of doing so
because a part of me believed
that unrequited love is much sweeter
than the sour taste of once aquatinted love
and not longer acquainted love;
never as bitter as the love from a confession
cut off at the stem and uprooted from the earth.
perhaps it was my fear of my heart being laid out bare-
torn apart and sliced to shreds
only to fall short of the pan
and into the trash instead.
that last drop in the bottle no one bothers to get
i was  never one for cooking
but i can't seem to find step one
and i don't think i have all the ingredients
on how to make this thing called love.
how long should i let it bake
and how do i know when its ready to share?

[ i'm so ] lost in this
endless sea
of [ hopeless ] romance
and i'm tired of
watching time go by.
[ when ] the sun rises
[ it comes ] and goes
over the horizon;
the water turns
blue [ to ] green
and as the tide turns
so do my thoughts
that [ you ] drowned
in the
      depths
              of the
                    ocean

i got this gift last christmas
just shy of half a foot;
i keep him really close.

i hold him late at night
when i don't know what to do
but i know i'm not feeling right.

i feel tranquility as i breathe
in his subtle scent
that i can't quite place my finger on.

i stare into his golden eyes
torn by memories about
how i got him and why he's mine.

i am mocked by his blank expression
as i ask him questions
neither of us have answers to.

i got a christmas gift
just shy of half a foot
and i still don't know why.

i suffocate myself
with unnecessary thoughts
of the past
and what was and will
never be again

i drown myself
with the cold reality
that this year
you most certainly
will not be coming back

i shield myself
from the possibility
that we will never
stand where we use to
as i welcome the new year

dissect me.
pick me apart
in hopes that what
you find buried inside
help you understand
what little pieces
come together
to make who i am

"Dissect me,"
I say to you
in desperate attempts
that it would help-
but you were never
one for science

every night i lay in bed
restless and unwearied-
intoxicated with the
cluttered thoughts of your
sole existence and
overtaken by the memories that
no longer bring joy;
hung up on old
undying memories
all these sad and restless
nights are all worth the
grief and longing

it's okay to be not okay -
with chills running down your spine
as worries pile in your mind.
that innate notion
of something wrong
and something that will never change

it's okay to be not okay
i have been for a while

i am so hopeful
yest so unhopeful
all at the same time

it's like that light
that you see
that tells you everything
will be okay
is like the sun on
a cloudy day;
it fades in an out
dimming and brightening

like a lightbulb
hanging on a thread -
hanging on to life

like a car
racing down
the free way
at two in the morning
the moments of darkness
after the faint moment
of brightness
as we drive under
street lamps.

i am so hopeful
and so hopeless
and i sway
like a pendulum
unable to find
a healthy balance

please do not tease me
with pretty words
and beautiful phrases

i take them in
like a parched man
scampers at the sight
of water

i marvel over them
much like humans admire
sunlight through
stain glass

and i cherish them
like a mother does
her first born
and hold them
close to my chest

do not tempt me
with kind words-
i'll start falling
as soon as they
fall from the
gap between
your lips

he told me
he'd fall in love with me
and once in love,
he'd woo me;
like all pretty girls should
be wooed

and although the offer
was sweet and alluring
in soft decline,
i shook my head
and i said

falling in love
with broken girls
only lead to
heartache

it pains me
because i would never
would have believed
you'd be the one
to break me

it hurts me
how i let you in
as easily
as you chose
to leave

it scarred me
when you'd go around
and call me beautiful
but treat me like
nothing special

it wounds me
that you didn't
have that audacity
or courtesy to say
goodbye

but what pains me most
is the melancholy
amounts of poetry
written all about you;
all for you

i let truth bleed from my heart
as i sprawled words across the page
i let my secrets out in riddles
in hopes that someone will
understand what i have to say

with her head in his hands

his forehead touches hers as he stares
into her eyes,

silent and unmoving
       with that arcane look in his eyes.

he's done it so many times before,
and not once
could she ever figure out
    why he would look at her like that.

And, before she can say anything,
  he p u l l s away                from her.

his hand lingering on her head
    for a second before
       walking away.

"good bye."

sighing, she watches as he walks away;

a familiar tune playing in her mind
  
    of lost dreams

               and broken hopes.

i remember late dark nights,
you'd rest your head on me
and ask if you could fall asleep
as we walked down empty streets -

fake glares and sarcastic tones -
'am i that idle to be referred
to as nothing more than an item'
as you refer to me as a pillow

soft wines and pouty replies
you'd rest on me anyway, but
baby, let's be honest;
i'd be your support any day

autumn scatters
red and orange [ leaves ]
across the sun-kissed fields
that set all the trees ablaze  -
with the crisp [ fall ] air,
the leaves detach themselves from
the only safety they knew -
[ and ] they do [ so ] without
the hesitation humans have.
[ do ] we have to worry about
what waits at the end of a free fall -
much like a falling leaf,
[ i ]  don't worry about what is to come

i judge you
and i know this is
unfair of me to do so
considering that i call you
a friend
and you to i -
but you go around
and you act as if
you havent been admitted
to as school only some
dare to dream about
one the cost so much
you and i would always
question as to why
you stay up late doing work
you couldn't have bothered
to do before - all nighters
that make you late for class
or not show up to at all
i know it is shameful to
judge a friend like this
but if tables were turned -
i know you would, to i.