the birds are singing today,
so loud and beautiful as if to say
it is Spring remember, please
it is Spring

then the snow lands on my skin,
cold and wet, as if to say
I am still here, please
*don't forget me

he is a shadow of you,
I catch glimpses of you
in his words, his touch,
but he is not you,
you decided to leave
he wants to stay,
the only difference is
I would rather be
burned by the sun,
than safe in the shadows.

I do not think home is a yellow house on a plain street.
I do not think home is the people in it either.
I do not think home is a town, or state, or country.
I do not think home is another person.
Home is not a building.
Home is not land.
Home is not them.
None of these things, are permanent.
Buildings fall,
Land dissapears,
People leave.
Home is not now, home is always.
Never leaving.
Home is a person. One person.
You. Yourself.
You are your own home.
Love it with everything you have.

I am scared of
love, loneliness, and failure

I fear that after being
loved, and losing it,

The loneliness will
drown me

And that failure,
will stain everything

Usually, when he
touches me, I
pull away

Today,
I leaned in
held on

My breath
became
thin

My stomach,
dropped,
tightened

It was as if
he was always
meant to be there

I wish I knew
what that
means

They speak of you everywhere,
Books, movies, friends
I hear you arrive when
Hands are held, or
Eyes connect,
Or even with small smiles,
Excited thoughts
You show up when the
Presence of one person,
Excites another, even if
They do not yet know,
Why they are excited
Your fluttering wings,
Remind them to pay attention
This one is special
You say while filling
Their stomach with nerves

I heard about you,
All of the time
Books, movies, friends
I never thought you
Would visit me
With the others,
You never appeared,
I waited for the flutter
That never arrived
Though tonight, there it was
The sensation in my stomach
Was more than welcome,
Thank you, you are right
He is special
So please,
My butterfly friends,
Stay a while

I saw you today.
You looked just as good as the day I met you.
Your hair was slicked back, just like I remembered.
You were wearing your favorite shirt.
Your shoes, Your lips, Your  hands,
all the same.
But your eyes have changed, my dear.
They have her reflection in them, instead of mine.

Sometimes
I feel like I'm just
f
     l
            o
a
      t
              i
  n
                   ­     g
In the insanity we call society
With the whole world
Touching my skin
But nowhere to go
And no where to sink in

By Chloe Elizabeth

You are grey and boring
And slowly fading
Like old paint,
Like a dream at dawn.
You are disappearing
Into darkness
Like a shadow on the wall.
You are vanishing
Like the sound of your voice
Saying I want you,
Like the sound of your footsteps
Moving towards the door.
There is nothing any more.


F.Z.N