I’ve always wanted the mountains
The cold, French love, and fresh snow
Rain, writing as my passion, pale and
On my own

You’ve always wanted the warm beach
The rays of sunshine, Spanish romance,
The sand between your toes, with a
Family and God by your side

I’ve imagined a family, as I’ve gotten older
I’ve imagined warmth and people
I’ve learned to be faithful and to love
A romance of a new language, waves
Crashing into me with more force than
I can stand

Your dreams became mine, my dreams became
Your lips on me forever. Rings that
Symbolize more than pride and wealth
Children that look like you
Warmth in the life that has only known the cold
A future with you

Stick my face in your neck
I started to smell you in my shampoo
I shower because the water running
Down my waist is just as scalding
As your fingers digging into me

I run my fingers through my hair
Wishing the strands were yours instead
Your cheeks aren’t mine to kiss anymore
I feel your touch in the blanket I bought for us
I sleep naked in winter as if
I’m showing you every part of myself

You wouldn’t understand it in words
I would know you blind
I would know you through smell and touch
Through the taste of your neck under my mouth
Through the sound of your laugh, even if
It’s just the sound of breath through your nose

my best friends are
in my bed
it’s too hot,
with four teenagers
crammed together on
a twin sized mattress

a bad movie plays on
the too-small T.V. screen
we laugh and kick and
yell. my head is on the
shoulder of a boy I’ve loved
since I was eleven.

I raise my camera
flash
and capture those I love most
in a jar of
my warmest memories

I sit in all my classes
Waiting for the ringing
Bell to let me out.
I have three Bs and I’m
Stupid. I’m smarter than
Every teacher here. I am a
Teenager. I wonder what is
For lunch.

The world will keep spinning
Even though I hate Spanish class.
My shoes are ***** and the
Boy in front of me is really cute.
I wonder how my crush is doing
In the classroom next to mine
I miss him. How does my
Side profile look right now?

I really dont want to go to algebra 2.

bump your forehead against mine
hold me a little tighter
rub my ears because
you know it sends me to sleep

rub your thumb across my cheek again
stick your face into my neck
your fingers into my mouth
your hand on my thigh

Is there a right way to be a poet?
Are my words any less important?
Choking over words will
Never make you a writer

You’ll suffocate trying to do it right
You have nothing but your words
Romance will found its home
Within the heart of any poet

To be different is to be an outcast
To be the same is to be boring

You will spend your whole life
Wondering who you are

You will grasp for a feeling
That is right in your soul

You will listen for it in your favorite song
Watch for it in your favorite movie

You will sit in bed at 3 A.M. wondering
Who am I supposed to be?