Do not call me teacher.
Do not call me light.
I am merely a reflecting glass-
showing a broken truth, not exactly right.

Do not call me preacher.
Do not call me uptight.
I'm only a Christian,
saying gently, "Come closer, it'll be alright."

Do not call me deeper.
Do not call me inspiring.
I'm just a poor lonely girl,
this gets kind of tiring- so

Do call me loving,
Do call me trying,
call me not enough, fine, that's true
but I'm reaching towards the sky-

I really do care for You,
I gasp for You every day
but I'm limited by my ego and lack of servitude,
my God, show me Your way.

Do not call me teacher-
that's the big guy, up there
He's the magnificent beautiful creature
with magnificent beautiful hair

Who unites with the world in harmony
and knows exactly how to love
my heart aches for having forgotten Him
but He saved me with His holy dove

My world is falling in place around me
My God is tracing the path
they've tried and failed to drown me
while I was sleeping- in my own bath.

Do not call me teacher,
I might speak His words, or try
but I **** up every day.
I'm dangling to this basic, dissenting concept of 'I'.

So I'm broken and lonely
and hurting, just like y'all.
Please don't call me teacher.
That's not who I am. I'm not worthy at all.

I am someone who has no scars because they have scarred the rest of the world instead

everyone believes they are the best at something
and I used to think I was the smartest,
but as people started getting higher and higher grades
and I stayed at my comfortable 96, I realized
that I am second, or third
I used to think I was the most athletic,
because my mile time was the fastest in my PE class,
but maybe I didn't realize that my class was at
Sacred Heart, and I was the smartest in middle school,
and that in Theatre I cannot make up for my lack of feeling
and I cannot let go
and I have been so focused on myself that I am lagging in the dynamics, I missed something
I missed about a month of moments and glances
and I am not as involved as I should be-
I have failed in latching to the people around me
and they slip by, waxy now, for I cannot catch up
there are secrets I do not know, glances I do not understand
I have been in survival mode for so long
that I have not been able to live-
I am not the best at speaking, or making friends,
or working group dynamics, or basketball,
or school, or math, or violin, or acting-
maybe my mom is wrong.
Maybe I am a B student.

there's a cliff in front of me
and I'm about to step off-
wait.
isn't that... isn't that the cliff, behind me?
where am I?

I love the idea of a she, someone with long hair, big eyes,
quiet voice and gentle-minded,
locks tied back in a braid, smooth, soft body,
with small hands- for all my hatred of sexism
I cannot ignore that I am blatantly, painfully attracted
to what they have told me is a woman.

and God gives me what I need
be it living, love, or dreams.

the bravery that lets the giggles fade away and
our hearts come nervously and timidly out of their shells
is the same bravery that lets us spark our small fires,
stand up for our brothers, and turn away from hell.

no matter how many smooth veneers
we polish over our faces, no matter what color
or type of mask it is, it's still a mask- smiling
or criticizing, it's still a mask. I'd rather wash
all the ******* and overused phrases off of my soul.
I'd rather grow a backbone than think the world is all sunny
because it isn't. I'd rather grow a backbone than think
the world is all indifferent and miserable
because it isn't. I'd rather be myself than force other people
to listen to me or try and make everybody like me.
I'd rather have a good time when times are good
and have a bad time when times are bad than fake it
one way or another. Optimism and pessimism both
dull our senses, they both hurt our perceptions of truth.
The mountains and the valleys exist; a plain, no matter
the average elevation, is still a plain.

"And now I'm one step closer to being two steps far from you."

"I am encouraged to go on. I wouldn't know where else to go."

I am ready for my heart to be washed clean
I am done being wounded by myself and those around me
it's time to put it in the hands of those who will hold it tenderly
not my parents- they cut me and make sarcastic and mean remarks
not my friends- they value themselves over me
not strangers- they don't smile
It's time
it's time for everything I am to be
carefully bandaged and swaddled
and ****** until it is new
it is time for my heart to stop bleeding and scarring
it's time to go to camp.

I found out a long time ago what a woman can do to your soul

I still remember how I felt laying on my mothers' bed
eating a whole gallon of blue bell vanilla
crying into it, remembering all the times I'd been afraid
and tired, and 3 in the morning on the couch
searching for something on my hand, a scratch
on the phone on a bridge, playing with a stick
while you said, "little do they know", calling myself
a ******, feeling my heart bloom in my chest,
a little girl rode by and asked if I was talking to my boyfriend
no, I said, I love you, I said, on the phone and you
saw me the next morning and I still remember
the dull lightning in your eyes that flashed bronze
I am grateful, I am grateful for you
and the raw smell of a sneeze while it rained and I tried
to forget the spikes and sparks I felt when I saw you
how they smoothed before me when I held you,
when I ran and I screamed because I thought a certain
amount of air in my lungs held traces of you
and if I just shouted loud enough I could expel you,
there would be nothing left, and as my feet tumbled down
the hill and my body exhilarated with my best of friends
I still could not forget that my eyes would never see you again
I still cannot forget that my eyes will never see you again.

find another one 'cause she belongs to me-
one day, I'll be married, laying in bed
next to someone who loves me
and together we'll rule the world
I was made for better things, I realized that
it'll all be okay, one day it will work out
one day the sun will melt a field frozen over
and I won't have to shovel any more snow
I think I'm gonna win this time.

let's be alone together
I don't want to force myself to be with anyone
and deal with the awkward silences
get-to know-you questions, smiles and laughter
efforts to agree and manipulate
I just want to be alone
with someone else there
and I want it to be simple

I won't act my age, not if it means
losing any more of my precious time
here on this earth. I'm already this old-
what's the point of spending days thinking
about what I should look like
or how I should behave?

and **** everybody, I'm ready for a new start

nothing is as **** as a cello
and nothing is as excruciatingly distant as a violin

I don't exactly know how to phrase it when we've been told
romantic love is the be-all, end-all of it all. I don't exactly know
how to say what I feel without sounding shallow and emotionless
but what I have learned, in my heart, is this:
that love isn't love that takes.
that me needing love to survive,
wanting it at the cost of all else,
and seeing it as the end goal of my life-
is setting me up to love for the sake of love by itself
and love for the sake of having it. By definition,
if romantic love is my life goal, any love I have
is taking. I have learned that
I don't need another person to fulfill my life
and it's foolish to act as though it's all pointless without love.
I have learned that to be poor and with the love of your life
is nice, and a beautiful happy life, but to be rich and single allows you
to give your riches to charity and spend your career changing the world
maybe at the cost of your own happiness, maybe not.
I have learned that even if it costs my own happiness, it is
better for me and anyone to sacrifice being with someone you love
for the sake of other people. I don't deserve that happiness
if it means it's going to forbid me from
changing the world in a positive way. I don't deserve that happiness
if it means I am alone with the one I love and have selfishly decided
my love is more important than anything else.
I have learned that there are many examples of people
who have lived their lives without love and have had wonderful lives.
I have learned that mere happiness is not the goal of the eternal soul.
I have learned that it's not boring or pointless or heartbreaking when one
doesn't end up with someone- I have learned that to sacrifice
my whole life for the sake of another person doesn't mean to give up
everything to be with them, either romantically or sexually.
I have learned that we must sacrifice ourselves, our wants, our needs
for the sake of God's kingdom- that whatever I want is nothing to His wants,
and that He does not want what I want. His ways are higher than mine.
I might want to be married, I might want to have kids
but what I've learned has told me that's not the point. That's not the end.
A man hath no greater love than this: to lay down his life for his friends.
Friends. I can, and will, give up everything for my friends,
everything for God. That's what love is. Self-sacrifice, not self-fulfillment
not "who I can be", but "who I can help you to be"-
not the light at the end of the tunnel, but the person willing to die.
I have been asking and looking for a perfect person
that understands me, is willing to be my partner and crime,
and loves me just as much or more as I love them. I found Him.
His name is Jesus Christ. And I know that I wouldn't give up Him
to be with anyone in the world. That's why. That's why. That's why.

alone at home
and a little tipsy
it's like john watson/martin freeman
the way I'm leaning back in my chair
and the way I want to **** Benedict Cumberbatch
this is all cuz "write drunk edit sober"
and i can't tell if that advice is working
yet
maybe I'll
be able to see
later

and there's so much history in these streets
of Mama's good eats and Wonder on repeat
so much history in my head,
the people I've left, the ones that I've kept.

we're all left to shiver in the bitter little aftershocks.

from dust we came and to dust we shall return
dust is no weekend trip or a pleasant outing
it is your make-up, it is your fiber
it's not for the wealthy to take a trip there
you bathe in it every day and roll in it
you forget, though, what you were made for. We all do.

dancing in private, alone on the waves
some things we can only to each other say
these howling winds can hardly break, hurricanes
will melt like sand around us, we are strong
the ship to my compass, the voice to my song
the heart to my arrow, the love to my pain
the rope to my anchor, the bird to my cage
I won't forget you're the only place I've ever belonged
and, darling, with you I'll stay forever long.

Every time I hear you breathe heavily (which happens quite a lot)
I imagine what I could do to you
to make you gasp like that
with maybe my name whispered
in between moans.

I've been telling myself no
I'm trying not to write poems about you
Mostly, they're on other topics.
That's cool.
But buried beneath them, in the fibers of the words,
is something that cannot be destroyed
a stain I can't ******* wash out of my shirt
I tell myself the poems aren't about you
but that's *******.
They are all about you.
Every
single
one of them.

and to think that you have called me through ages
through heartbeats, in quiet words, in sunny days
through thunderstorms and when I run and when I lay down to rest
you have called me in the arms of my mother,
in every broken heart and northern star, in my lost soul,
deep in my bones, in hard choices and older guides,
through every single person to whom I have ever spoken,
through dreams and long embraces, warm lights,
soft faces, you have called me through kisses
and forgotten moments, you have called me
when I didn't know I was forgiven, you have been with me
as I walked beside still waters, you have led me
through the valley of the shadow of death,
you have stolen my heart and restored my soul.
Thank you, Lord. I love you. Amen.

I burn you down
I will, I can, and I have
I get lost in a frenzy of fire and musk
tied taut between two sleeping masts
sailing ever forward as I slip
arms spread wide,
hoarsely proclaiming a message of my pain,
crucified, on board the navigation to a burnt bridge
for there will always have been a struggle
that, though it contains many words,
must remain silent,
and though I say I will burn you down,
my flames will only consume my own soul.

You gave me a giving tree
ironic, a little.
I gave you a poem.
ironic, a lot. there's so many about you that
you have never read.
You seemed to know exactly what I needed
In order to stay in love with you, I
needed to know why,
and that's why.
He said it's impossible to love without understanding;
we are lonely creatures who cannot
dream each others' dreams.
How can we love?
we give.
we give until it hurts and then some
until we gave it all away without even understanding
WHY we are in love, or
WHY we even started giving.
Is that love? is it love if we don't
understand
what we're even getting into?
How could someone like you fall for a
girl(?)
who dedicates her life to figuring out why she's
beautifully in love with you
all she knows is to live, she has to give
and she doesn't even know if that's true.

I don't know what it is about you
that always has my head spinning
and maybe it's just on a platonic level now
I just really like your silly giggle
there's something about you
dark and pale
but open,
and closed,
cheerful, adorable,
the perfect jawline
in fact, if someone asked me my ideal partner,
the way I'd describe them
might as well be your eharmony profile
but we don't have to be romantic
and it's okay that we're not
because I get to enjoy you for you
without agenda
without confusion
without angst
just the pleasure of your company.
you're sweet, but not really, but really you are
and it's okay
because you're so unique
you are a gem,
and if I ever find another like you,
I now know how to treat them.

I'm down to my skin and bone
and my mommy, she can't put down the phone
and stop asking how I'm doing all alone, alone
But the truth is the stars are falling, ma
and the wolves are out, quit calling, ma
and my home has never felt this far.

But all this driving is driving me crazy
and all this moving is proving to get the best of me
And I've been trying to hide it but lately
every time I think I'm better
picking my head up, getting nowhere.

*******

you will find me
in places that we've never been
for reasons we don't understand.

how do you convince yourself you aren't measured by someone elses' love?
Asking for a friend.

people seek only what they perceive to cause them good
people need attention, everything you or I do is for attention
I would not be posting poems on the internet if I did not want affirmation
you do nothing 'for yourself' or 'because I like to'
you 'like to' for a reason, because it serves some benefit
people are manipulative, they will use speech and body language to get what they want
people lie and steal and hurt
but they do it not because they know it is evil-
no, no one chooses to do an action that will cause them evil-
they do it because they are selfish
because the survival and progression of an individual
depends on the strength of his own self-interest
and it is in our nature to be selfish, that is just how we are
and the sooner we are honest about it, the better
for people can improve and work to benefit others
(but that will never be purely altruistic- benefiting others makes you happy-
therefore people give to others for themselves)
there are so many negative connotations to
'attention-seeking' and 'manipulative' when that is what each of us do,
every single day,
destroy these stigmas surrounding the truth-
the truth is, we are selfish,
but that is okay,
because that is who we are,
and that is who we have to be-
I have come to terms with this because I had to
you can never expect people to be more than they are
you must love them for all of them, rather than just the parts that are good or easy
all we have is each other and we cannot ignore that
because you have a choice in this world:
be ignorant of what people are, and hate them
be knowledgable of what people are, and hate them
be ignorant of what people are, and be deluded
or be knowledgable of what people are,
and learn to love them anyway.

"I am right and you are wrong"
-a phrase that should never be uttered.
if you really got the other person's point,
this sentiment, you wouldn't have muttered,
for people are more than muscle and joint
more than a means to an ends
people are just like you, every one
so how about trying to make mends?
Why is forgiveness so unacceptable?
didn't you want it once?
how come their motives are so susceptible?
what makes one's truth over one's
more than the other's, credible?
people need to understand each other
to find the truth they lost
for the only thing lies build is discontent
and they are suffering the effects of the cost
there's a pain you can't circumvent
your heart muscle will soon exhaust:
if you're trying to love someone that you don't even know,
then your stars appear to be crossed
for there's a bond can be built only once you let go
the walls that once divided you
and it doesn't need be a fight even though
the roof over your head is blown through.
please just understand your sister or brother,
'cause peace is something we musn't outgrow
if you'd see what's under the covers
for what it really is,
then we'd finally find our home in one another
this is who we are- we were made for this.

I have not yet found a soul that could settle next to mine
without cutting into it; that just fit, perfectly
without wounding, I have not found a person that
could come close without diving into me, we all
slice ourselves up for each other and bleed into each other's wounds
and maybe that's not because I haven't found the right person
maybe it's because we're all the right person, we're not meant to be
with one or the other, a perfect yin to my yang,
we make ourselves meant to be, we mutilate and we morph
into each other and for each other's perfection
that they may know the face of God
and everything's ****** up, I know that, I can't fix what's ****** up
but maybe we don't need to fix what's ****** up
because we're all ****** up and that's what makes us human
that's what makes us beautiful, that's how we can see God
because Jesus, though he was in the form of God
did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped
but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, and being
found in human form he humbled himself and
became obedient unto death, even death on a cross-
maybe we're meant to have wounds in our hands
and on our feet, and across our sides, and slashed down our backs
maybe we're just a combination of different people,
we crucify ourselves for those around us,
we are who we are, and then we are not,
and it is all too raw and stinging and sometimes you are ashamed
to look upon someone who died for you, it's too powerful
and you can't make yourself do that, but they did
Jesus did, and it is in this that we are most divine
it is in rawness and confusion and shame and passion
when things are too complicated and it hurts to even move
when you feel your body and soul straining and you don't know what to do
that's when you feel Christ, that's when his heart beats inside you.

I love rain. I love the rain of my heart when it feels like
it's only going down, down, down; I love the rain
in the back of my throat that causes a fog in my eyes;
I love the rain in my chest that slows down and muddies up
my heartbeats; I love the rain of my fingers when they ache
from the moisture in the air; I love the rain of my eyelids
when they ease closed after a long day; I love the rain
around my feet that makes them cold; I love the rain
in my ankles that refreshes my step; I love the rain
of my quadriceps that seems to clog up my own will;
I love the rain in my elbows, sitting on them and looking
at the deepest friend of a friend I will ever have; I love the rain
in the bridge of my nose that reminds me to hold my head high;
I love the rain as it washes through my hair and chills,
warming my shoulders; I love the rain on my shoulders themselves
as they push and shove through it in order to wrap around
someone too small and cold; I love the rain around my hips
that are hiding, to be protected and concealed; I love the rain
in my brain as I forget what the sun looked like; I love the rain
in my bones that feel very deeply what the sun looked like;
I love the rain in my soul that knows that when the leaves rot and
the wood decays, that smell only means summer.

I think it's funny
I'm in love with you
You're so different from me
And yet far too much alike.
The divine comedy allows
for none of this foolishness
could you be in love with me?
when I am so different
And yet far too alike
for God's humor?

They say opposites attract
But who is they?
Who gives them that right?
Maybe I am your opposite. Maybe
we're so alike that it is
almost paradoxical.
Maybe I'm done listening to 'them'
They don't know us.
The way your hair falls
Or the way it feels between my fingers
when I am busy
Making you feel safe.

They weren't there when I
carried you around
And you nuzzled your head in my neck
And you looked at me like there's no one you'd rather look at.
They weren't there when I realized I loved you.

If they can **** us to hell
then hell won't be hell if I'm there with you.

This all looks good, but where are your wounds?
My wounds? Yes, where are your nail marks?
Where are the scratches on your back from carrying
anothers' burden? Where is the blood you shed for your mother
where is the ache in your soul for the pains of your brother?
In the end, when anything and everything is lost
your wounds, on your tender and sacred heart, in sympathy and health
matter most, for the way you felt upon that cross
will be more than enough to pay your sins' cost.

I'm sorry you can't see the desert in my eyes but I've always loved the heat

It's so hard to forgive someone-
it's hard even to know what forgiveness is
should I agree that the wrong was necessary
should I sympathize with the wrongdoer
should I forget it ever happened
should I act as if it didn't
should I say something to you
I don't know. I don't know. All I know is when
I said, "I forgive you," even alone so no one heard,
a little piece of my heart unclenched,
a little shackle round my veins was let loose
and I knew then that when I said, "I forgive you,"
it was a better way of saying "I love you" and I knew that
the locks and loops holding me back were tied together
with my ability to forgive myself. I'm glad I saw this through.

I am fire in love with ice
fire to me is exhausting, ice is full of vice
but it is pure, and I chase eternally for something
that could only put me out
I am claimed by desire for the cold, constantly crushing
what is is that I am, it is a sad, forgettable art
when the beat of your veins are drumming
at an erratic pace to someone who looks at you like a science experiment
their highest love is to be set apart
they thrive on the silliness of sentiment
your last will and testament holds evident to your thought
of them when you last close your eyes, you are never quite as elegant
as the coordination of the fractals and the elements
your battle will be consistently fought
while they watch, aloof, shattering and shattering your heart.
and ice is forever lonely
it thinks fire is foolish, devout
to a Lord that knows nothing but only
the sins of his people, whose minds sell out
as a conductor of bad decisions
illogicalities and blurred precisions
and whose souls have nothing but room for doubt.
I am fire in love with ice,
for other fire tires, and I seek to change something,
to make a mark on the world, and tell
my story over the glaciers, a glorious pulsating hell
but the ice is no place for a fire
for the ice does not want to melt.

you keep looking at me
and it's slightly murderous
dark, like you want to twist my arms off
and there's something untraceable in the looks
anger, maybe,
a swirling tornado of mixed emotions,
longing? hate? 'glad I'm done with you'?
fascination? interest? mystery? dislike?
'I finally found out what was happening'?
whatever it is, it's not love
it's not pleasant
doesn't make me feel very good
but,
I am almost relieved, selfishly,
because my eyes have been watching you for months
and you've finally started looking at me back.

Logic is not an end, it is a pathway,
with happiness as a goal, anything seemingly illogical can be justified
Enjoying clouds is illogical and irrelevant, pointless,
Wearing matching shirts to track is unnecessary,
"Why would you logically find joy in something like that?"
You cannot look at the individual incident.
there is always a reason to be unhappy-
Unless the goal you are striving for is to be happy- in which,
finding joy in anything is logical-
because the very act of feeling joy is a choice to increase endorphins,
not a result of stimuli.
Humor in itself is illogical and pointless to your survival,
but to make your survival worthwhile, it is exactly what you need.

I take myself way too seriously
for a self-driven lump of meat
spinning on a rock through
finite and deadly space

some things are too tender to write about
I've searched a long while for something private,
something that would feel like betrayal to record
something that defied explanation and a poem
would be a molestation, an invasion, an imposition
well, I found it- and I have never been more glad for the silence
because writing about this, well, writing about this would be violence.

I know I have to light the way for others and ignite their sparks
but there's nothing left inside me to burn.

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older?
Then we wouldn't have to wait so long
And wouldn't it be nice to live together
In the kind of world where we belong

You know it's gonna make it that much better
When we can say goodnight and stay together

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up
In the morning when the day is new?
And after having spent the day together
Hold each other close the whole night through

Happy times together we've been spending
I wish that every kiss was never ending
Wouldn't it be nice?

Maybe if we think, and wish, and hope, and pray, it might come true
Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do
We could be married
And then we'd be happy

(Sleep tight oh baby goodnight
Ooh baby sleep tight oh baby)

Wouldn't it be nice?
You know it seems the more we talk about it
It only makes it worse to live without it
But let's talk about it
Wouldn't it be nice?