I was never meant to be clean
Never to wear white
Always tarnished or stained

First it was in green
As I threw my peas to the floor
Then it went to red
As my face welled in anger and let out a wail

Then it was bright green yet again
As grass stains tore their way up my legs
And then red as my face was burned from too many days of sun

It never was anything different
Red and green, red and green
Stop and go
Never stay
Never wait
Go and stop
No slowing down

Maybe that’s why Christmas is so appealing to me
Even with all the empty promises
At least we share a color scheme

I would turn green yet again
As my face churned in jealousy
For those with what I would never have
Never get back
And I would return to red
And red and red and red
Making me go go and go further away
Further from my innocence
My childhood
The red that washed my Mother away
That wiped away my innocence as it ran down my legs for the first time
The same red that spilled from my arm as I shakily held the knife in my hand

I was never to be clean again
Too much red had come in between
With no green in sight
Nothing to keep me moving foreword
Just stopped.
Waiting.
For what, I will never know
Perhaps, for red to mean love
Or passion
And no longer for death and destruction
Anger
Maybe someday
But not today.
Today I’m still stopped. Just waiting for my time.
Forever stained.

The most
Beautiful
Harrowing
Wonderful
Horrifying
Part of being a poet
Is that
With all the words
In all the worlds
I can’t come up with the right ones
To describe the way you look at me
Or your laugh
Or your smile when you’re trying not to
And that hurts
Because you deserve so much better
Than a hopeless romantic
Who can’t even pay you a proper compliment
-Otherworldly

This girls got lightning behind her eyes
Storm clouds rolling through her thoughts
Thunder bursting from her throat with every laugh and every cry
She's electrifying
The sort of rain people love to dance through
Too bad she's terrified of storms
-beauty to all but herself

The thing about us English nerds
We know the sappy lines
The snappy remarks
The ones that sting just right
Or heal a cut deep in your heart
So watch out for us
Because you’ll never know
Which is which
Real or not real
Cutting or healing
Loving or hating
For it’s the actions that count
In a day and age where we communicate
Through words we see on a screen
It’s dangerous for people like you
Who listen to those who cannot be seen
Because girls who read books
Can right you anything you want.
And you won’t be able
To tell the difference.

-Good.

I’m burning the candle
But not at both ends
No, for in fact I have five
I’m like an old star
Ready to explode
Plain sick of being alive
Helping her and helping him
Ignoring myself for the sake of them
Some days I wonder
“Will I ever be true?”
When that day comes
Boy, will that feeling be new
It starts in my toes
Weary from walking
Igniting my fingers
Busy writing and talking
Then it gets to my head
As it makes its way down
Warming my heart
Burning my frown
I’m not saying that I want to die
But I’m spread so thin
I think “why shouldn’t I”

Eyes are supposed to be the windows to the soul
Except for hers
She looks to the sky
Getting lost in the sun
You stare at her
Never wanting to look away
But she looks to the star that shines as bright as she does
Wishing to be lost in its warmth
Losing her sight
And losing you with it
But that doesn’t matter...
You stare anyways, wishing someday
Someday
She will see again

The moon there
And the light of the moon.
Caused by what?
The sun of course
Do you ever wonder if the moon finds itself lonely?
Hiding away where no one ever sees it
Only lighted by someone elses brightness
Never radiating its own
When they’re gone
You fade into the shadows
Forgotten until they shine on you again
Never radiating of your own accord
Just reflecting the light of another
But no one stops to think about the moon
Who enjoys staying in the background
She likes to disappear sometimes
Leaving the sun to be the center of attention
But sometimes the sun doesn’t enjoy the spotlight either
Though it is always stuck
So she calls on the moon to help her hide away for a short while
The moon encourages the dear sun
To show the world it’s warmth once again
And the sun listens
For even though she can’t be seen
She shines just as brightly when alone
Everything in nature needs a break
No matter how small or large
It would be ridiculous to request a flower to bloom all year
So why can’t we see that in ourselves?

If I write poetry across my skin
Over and over and over
Will I finally feel as if I have worth?

How are there people
Who only light one candle
To find warmth?
-Honey, in this house I need a bonfire

You thought you could burn me
Char me
Scar me
Oh how funny it was to see you
Trying to ignite
An already burning fire
With a measly match
-stop, you’re just going to hurt yourself

I have a feeling
That someday
Far too young
I will burn
Just
Like
Her
-Mother like Daughter

When I was young
I would spend hours
Braiding and undoing
My thick golden hair
Now that I’ve grown
I pull strands of sunlight
Out of the sky
To braid the golden strings
Into a crown
And claim my rightful place
After all, I wasn’t named Leia for nothing
-waiting to be recognized as a general instead of a princess

I melded my crown
Out of the metals I used to cut myself with
I dyed my dress
With the blood that once was a weakness
I painted my face
With the warpaint and tears I used to cover my fear
I forged my heels
Out of the glass that shattered me
I used to be hurt, weak, scared, broken
But now I am regal, strong, brave, resilient
-no amount of tears could take this new feeling away from me

Nobody would’ve guessed
That the girl crying in the garden
Would grow the most beautiful flowers
Watered by her tears
They grew to protect the girl
Pricking anyone who came too close
Making sure their princess
Was never hurt again
-she was, but the plants aren’t to know that

“I’m not like other girls” she says, though not with the air of superiority
“Oh?” He asks, intrigued at the aspect of dating someone unique
“Other girls are magnificent
Individual
Beautiful
Intelligent
In all different ways
If I were like other girls, I would think much more highly of myself”
The boy steps back, aghast at such a statement
The girl smiles at his reaction, before turning to her girlfriend sitting on the other side of her
“Silly of him to think I would ever fall for someone who doesn’t think that you’re the most wonderful person to walk the earth”
-the plot twist we all needed

The thought of you
Tastes bitter on my tongue
But not as bitter
As the thought of me ever being with you again
You sit there like a piece of fruit
Rotting away the longer you’re in my memory
Never being sweet enough to satisfy me
Never juicy enough for my mouth to water at the sight of you
YOU were a fool to think
You were ever enough
For ME
-you aren’t quite ripe

“You’re beautiful” I say
For lack of a better word
Because how can I only describe her as so?
She’s what it feels like to feel the sun dance upon your face
The wind gently rustling your hair
The glowing of wood lit aflame
Candles flickering while the windows rattle from wind

She’s the beginning of the Star Wars theme at full blast
Hearing the sound of the TARDIS for the first time in so long
The opening credits of each long-awaited marvel movie
Feeling the magic of reading the first Harry Potter book again
The closing of a finished book, knowing there’s more to come
Rapping every line of Hamilton perfectly

She’s everything pure in the world that brings unbridled joy
And there’s no way that “beautiful” could
EVER
Measure up to that

Fireworks and I have a lot in common
They burn out
And fizzle
And spark
And Scream
While people watch on with amusement
Without worry
The thing about fireworks and me?
They're pretty until you get too
Close
-I've burnt the fingers of too many people

I thought you were the fire that could warm my frozen heart
I took care of you
And tended to you
To keep you going as long as you could
I thought you would keep me warm
and take care of me too

Instead I ended up getting burnt
Charring my fingers on your carelessness
Singing my hair on your obliviousness
And In A Way, my own
Because anyone knows that when you play with fire
You're asking
to get burnt
-a former pyromaniac

I've been called a pyro
From the fires that glow in my path
But they don't know that the fire
Keeps my body from freezing over
And when the tendrils of smoke find their way to my nose
I hope it winds its way into my body
To warm the ice surrounding my heart
-depression can't win

We stole the night together
Held together by a tether
Telling stories as we went
With a list of movies we had to rent
We played with each other's hair
A quite inseparable pair
We shared all our troubles
Promising we'd be doubles
And we'd bolster each other's souls
Until our hearts burned down to coals
But
Then we drifted and we struggled
Battling demons that left us puzzled
Until we realized
They're easier to fight together
Than alone
-hopefully your best friend

There was a night
When I stole all the light
From the stars in the sky
As I lit all the candles in my room
I danced to and fro
While the candles burned low
On my precious stolen time
Spent on nothing but Peace
I finished some books
And played with my looks
While I cleaned and I sketched
I thought to myself
What if the world was always this quiet?
So I could steal the hours of the night
Away from those who stole my day

If men had a curfew lives would change in many ways
But there’s some setbacks to the attempt of fun outside
When I’m not with muscular friends past a certain time of day
I’m told to cover up my bra strap because the boys become distracted
Since “boys will be boys” reigns and girls pretend to be attracted
What if I could eat a burger in a bar without the need to feel guilty about my diet
And when I’m asked if I think I’m fat I say no, because it’s fishing for compliments to deny it
I’m told that I should be complacent and dress nice by a man three times my age
And scolded by society because it’s unladylike to be in a fit of rage
I could go outside and gaze at the dance the stars know so well
But I sing along with the peculiar song of that familiar cautionary bell
What if I could go out with friends past eight PM and explore the bright! Happy! world
Stagger through life in heels with our wit sharpened and eyelashes curled
No, I have to spend my time hidden “safe” inside
From men who think there’s no more to me than what they can see with the naked eye
This has happened ever since I turned the ripe old age of 13
Because there’s some people out there on the streets
Whom it would be an injustice to only be described as mean
I could walk out to my car without my hand poised with my keys as if they were a knife
And not have to worry about how a short low-cut dress could harm my life
(Me too) It could be worse! They say, for some reason with such force.
But since when was my safety
A cause for discourse?