the mind is full of thoughts its just like a store

first you think of one thing then there are many more

each and every day your mind will make a change

some are happy thoughts some are very strange.



we just never know what our mind will say

we just never know what thoughts will come our way

thoughts they keep on coming going round and round

then they let you know when a thought is found

Your lips tasted
like the stars
i never got to see
because of the cities
bright lights.
And once our lips connected,
Meteors fell down to earth,
And the ground beneath us started crumbling.
For it was the end of the beginning,
And I couldn't have been more un-afraid.

i have been alone.
the wind erupts
through open windows,
sending papers flying
about this empty apartment
in the city.
shocking cold tiles
strike my feet
as i chase.
my heart beats
as the wind slows
to a creak,
the rocking chair on my
neighbors balcony.
my age,
almost a fourth
of my life expectancy.
i have been alone
far too long.

i went outside for a walk
took a shower when i got in

(we're not going to talk
about how i slept until
eleven and went back to
bed from one to four)

calluses coming back
to the bottoms of my feet
and those scabs and sores
on my scalp again

i tried to lower my
own standards
because i wasn't able
to meet them today

(but that leaves me
feeling like i've failed)

and i don't know how
to say what's on my mind

(i think i've hit
rock bottom
but if i made it to here
i could probably go lower)

sleep deprivation is
absolutely natural
because nothing feels real
even when i'm rested

(help)

i'm incredibly sorry
for most things i do

*(never mind.)

this is the last poem
that I'll ever write
the very last lines
i'll set into rhyme

giving the thoughts in my head
a much needed rest
with nothing else left
that needs to be said

this is the last poem
i'll pour out on page
any left over words
i'll give them away

maybe somebody else
could use them to say
a few of the things
they've been unable to say

the very last poem
to come from this hand
with all that's been said
no need to say it again

i've weaved tapestries
from beginning to end
now feel the need
to set myself free
and set down this pen

if you went back in time
and found my eighth grade self

you would find long sleeves
pulled way down her arms
and you might notice
she was hiding something
that she got awfully tired of hiding
and tired of stares when she wasn't

i'll give you a hint
my ninth grade self
had bright red scars
seared into her shoulders

my tenth grade self
was still finding leftover
pink horizon lines from
safety razors on her thighs

my eleventh grade self
found all her skin remarkably
pale but her coping
mechanisms still unhealthy

and my twelfth-grade self
she was the weakest one of all
just had the strongest
jaw to hide behind
and enough self-confidence to
stretch thin across her neuroses

but if you could go back
and find my eighth-grade self

please tell her
something for me
she won't believe it
but i just have to tell her

that in four years she will buy
the most beautiful sleeveless
white dress with navy lace
and she will wear it with
sneakers and bruises on her knees
a smile the overexposed
color of her insecurity

and nobody
will say a
**** thing
about her scars
bleached into
a memory.

I found you 
Found your arms in the secrecy of an encroaching dusk 
In the shade of trees 
The coveted corners of quiet  
I found the hidden pieces of your soul 
As they sat beside mine 
In the comfort of silence 
Whispering through the air promises of belonging  
Of two broken pieces becoming a whole 
Two unknowns becoming the known 
Two wrongs finally becoming one right 

You found me 
As your delicate fingers ran across my skin 
Laced through the curls of my hair 
Carefully stitching the gaping caverns of suspicion in a doubtful heart 
Placing together shattered confidences with a tender touch 
Holding them firmly with the power of your affection. 
We built each other as reflections of ourselves 
As better forms of the shadows we'd learned to become 

We found each other 
With skin upon skin  
Fingers entwined 
A world away from the troubled minds we used to live in  
We found each other 
Together 
We found peace 
We discovered love.

The theory of our relationship
A complex set of numbers
Are we where we want to be?
Are we who we want to be?
What do we become when we're together?
I hypothesize and fantasize the answers.
My only conclusion?
The       distance       between       us       is       too       cold       to       define.