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.

even when it hurts, you have to pick yourself up and continue on.

I am fascinated by your existence
and want to take care of you
but in my caring
I must fulfill your needs
not what I want your needs to be
and my love cannot be what I want
it must be what you want-
that's what love is.
I am fascinated by your eyebrow bones
and your hips
and the way you roll your eyes
I am fascinated by how you sleep
and how you wake up
I am fascinated by your love for cartoons
and your small fingers entwined with mine
I am fascinated by all of you,
and I will write you a million poems
or swim across the ocean
or dance naked for you,
and every hair on your head is a line in my poetry
and the way your ear curves is greater than whitman,
a mind more elegant than cummings,
hands more deft than hughes;
I will write you a hundred thousand billion poems,
but that doesn't mean I can have you,
because that's not what you want-
my desires are always second to your desires,
and that's what love is.

all the twitter and the group chats and the facebooking
the constant talking, the snapchat stories, the little reminders
tumblr feeds, news stations, netflix recommendations
they're just mindless noise, fillers, to distract us
from our chronic loneliness, our effervescent sadness
we can't bear to be alone so we ****** ourselves into rooms
of people talking loudly and too much, we ignore
the sad voices within us because maybe if the sounds
get loud enough, they'll drown out whatever it is
that's saying "you're alone, you're not worthy of love"
and most of the time it works. It leaves us numb
so much noise, in fact, that we can't hear much anything else
we lose sight of ourselves. I don't know who the ****
I am without all of that. I don't know who I am in the silence.
Please, don't leave me behind. I've gotten lost. A week
without twitter is like three years without rain for some of us
and we don't know how to survive the drought-
we don't know what it is we're running from, we're
just running, running's a thing we've always done, and
we're scared. Please, don't leave me behind. I'm scared too.
I'm scared of the dark and of isolation, I'm like a little kid
who needs her phone like her mother's hand
because I never learned to live on my own.
Life's a big ******* grocery store and some of us
sit down in the candy aisle, some of us cry,
some of us ask the people in charge to call our mother,
some of us latch onto someone's, anyone's leg.
Don't let me go. Please, don't leave me behind.
I don't know where I am. I don't know how to get home.

I said your name and you barely turned around
When you saw me, you looked away
and put on a little frown
What is it? Can you tell I'm (gay?)
Or are you just ******, or down?
I love you far too much to see you this way
But maybe it's not you, it's me
The beautiful dances we used to execute
Were not what they will be
I'm not sure what's going on with you
You avert your eyes and don't reach or conclude,
Tarry a bit too short, dislike spending time,
I won't pretend I'm anyone else's but mine.
The light in your eyes, what's made them see and lose?
Is it me you hate?
Is there nothing I can do?

I don't know how you get joy out of just saying no all the time
You only wish to partake in those actions that you know will gratify you,
and you never separate from those. You'll live a life, sure, but it
won't be a very filled or exciting one-
you've got your goals you will accomplish
and that will be that
and maybe you're fine with your existence,
but I sure as hell wouldn't be satisfied.
I'll burn down your ******* cubicle because I desperately don't want
you to be confined, even if it is by your own design.
You can make whatever choice you want
and I want you to be happy,
so go ahead and just simply logically exist
while I'm having the time of my life-
you can't hold me back, I'm done trying to pull you forward
because you don't want to come,
so looks like I'll be having fun without you,
and you will have no idea what you're missing.

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a ****,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

a man becomes a man when he chooses to
there is no whim of fate, no marked age
when he lives with the winners and never forgets you
a man becomes a man regardless of how many days
he's spent around this hot star, he knows in himself
that the day he becomes a man
is the day he puts his death on the shelf
he does what he knows in his heart that he can
he is no coward, dies only one death
he chooses this every moment- to be born again
until there is nothing but life left
he feels his soul on fire and he lights it in peace
he lays down at the end of the day to retire-
and sleeps.

the day I became a man was the day I stopped saying,
"I am meant for so much more"
because I realized that
"I am meant for exactly this."

did I push you off the edge when I left
and did I fly off, unknowingly, after you,
falling aimlessly through the clouds? drifting?
when will I hit bottom?

when it rains, and the car moves
it is clear where it did not rain
where the car caught the rain is not
where the concrete caught the rain
to see the difference, one must
move their car- and it is painfully
obvious that something, once there,
is no longer- and everyone knows.

I am so ready for summer
but I think I have a little bit more time left
and it's important not to skip ahead
so for now, I'm so ready for track season
and I'm so ready for the end of this quarter
and I'm so ready for school tomorrow
and I'm so ready for my day today
and I'm so ready for this moment, right now.

what am I supposed to do
all I've been doing is trying to center myself
lower the weight
so my gravity can focus me
calm myself down, write while I'm alone
find secrets to keep
but all this is just confusing me
because I know I want you but
I don't know if I should have you
the nights are getting later and I want to drink so badly
I want to be so intoxicated right now
and I sure as hell don't think I should be posting this poem
on the internet where you can see it.

I never realized the discontent within me
or, I did, and I ignored it, happy to shut it out
when my soul didn't fit the definition of woman that God provided
I told myself, actually told myself, that I could be a man of Christ
and I held to that in the quiet of my heart, silently
When I was little I used to pray to God that he would make me a boy
I used to cry myself to sleep because there didn't seem to be a solution
there was no way, except for a miracle, maybe one day
I'd wake up and everything would feel right
and as my hips grew in I couldn't help feeling upset
that my jeans would never sag and I would never be angular
I didn't know that blocking out these thoughts wasn't normal
I didn't know that most everyone didn't have these thoughts
I used to dream about growing out my beard
I only watch straight **** and I'm not sure why but I think
it's because I have never seen myself as a woman
I used to play outside with my shirt off, fighting off the dog with my 'spear'
I thought I was a warrior, I thought I was a king
I thought I was one of God's golden angels
I thought my voice was low when I began to sing
I made friends with boys and had crushes on girls
just like all the other boys
and when they left me it was the saddest thing
My teachers told me I should just play with the girls
and I cried. What child, when told to wear a dress,
tells her mother that it was the worst day of her life?
What child wants to grow out her leg hair and have pecs, not *****
what child wants short hair and a beard and narrow hips
what child wants to kiss girls in a chivalrous manner, not
like a woman stealing a girl away from her heterosexuality,
what child feels like she's in a costume when she dresses up
and wears makeup, what child immediately removes her nail polish?
who am I? Am I who they say I am?

who is it I see in this body
and who is it I know in this heart?

I like the way your cheeks turn red when you're embarrassed,
or sometimes for no reason at all.
I like the way you say 'God Maddie'
I like when we are REALLY talking about
something else entirely.
I like your hair.
and I like when you let me play with it,
and I like how tenderheaded you are,
because I have to be extra careful I'm not laying on it.
I like when you get really excited about something
and I can't understand what you're saying.

and when people ask me to describe you, I say
you're short, quiet,
and that's not good enough, when I could describe
the way your eyes light up
or the way you say things,
or your mind,
or all the millions of conversations we've had,
or your laugh,
or your walk, as if you're the only one walking alone on a slackline over a mattress and you're there for the thrill.

You aren't a GPA or a collection of friends or a green-orange-gold-blue who is friends with a
blue-orange-green-gold.
You aren't even an aspiring pilot.
You're every experience you've had and every time someones' said your name.
and every kiss someone wished they had with you,
but didn't have the ***** to pull it off.
and every phase you've been through,
and every embarrassing quote from freshman year.
I wasn't there for all that.
But I can be there for the rest of it.

and I could write line after line and never come close. adjective on top of adjective with maybe a few verbs, couldn't capture you. or me, really.
there's a certain fire inside you
everyone who meets you can see it.
it's more than there is on the outside
and makes me want to burrow and dig for it
so I can be warmed by the gentle (or blazing) heat.
if I get too close, I might get burnt.
but maybe it'll be worth it.

I don't want to capture you.
capturing and owning and containing will slowly
**** your flame.
I don't want to change you.
I don't want to hold you down.
I want to see you fly.
I want to watch as your soul alights on the wings
of heaven, and the fire inside you finally finishes eating away at the outer shell and it
emerges in full glory,
and I've seen it for a long time and
now everyone can see it just like me.

You're looking for someone who sees things like you do.
I don't. I see differently. But at least I can try to understand the way and the why you see things like you do.
We're so ridiculously different.
but can anyone ever be similar?
Who you are is expansive and never-ending and unimaginable and no words could ever capture it. Who I am is completely in the other direction but the same in scope.
I hope that you understand-
who we ARE
is not nearly as beautiful and powerful as
who we can be
or who we will be.

why? is it my failing grades? My sneaking out at night? My ******* addiction? My late-term teenage pregnancy? What could possibly make this worth it?

I want to see the light in your eyes
but you think poetry is stupid.
Poetry is all I've ever known.
Am I stupid?

Love is the reason for our existence.
My personal neck tattoo would say L-O-V-E-R.
If you're too cynical to ever be happy...
...maybe I'll have to find someone more like me.

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.

I write so that someone will care enough about me to read it.

I am a woman (or man)
who has always had
Ni then Ne
as her dominant cognitive functions
These take what is relevant from the
wide scale and connect it into patterns and grand schemes
immediately followed by more chances and opportunities
to tie into the preexisting idea.
take, arrange, support-
that is how I approach information-
I create possibilities and fragment and organize
with my next, Ti.
I analyze, compromise, and strategize with Te, my third.
I diplomate, learn, and charismatize with Fe,
and then internalize the response to social interactions with Fi.
You, my friend, are someone I have never been
able to compartmentalize
I have been struggling with the concept of your inherent freedom
since I met you. I believed myself to be free
but watched the others like birds in a cage
until one of them bent the wires as if they were paper
and escaped, despite my attempts to force
and to struggle to return you within the bars
for my observation.
little did I know,
wild birds
do not like to be observed, measured, and critiqued
they will fight every restriction you put on them, well-meaning or otherwise
they will teach you what that quote means about
letting go what you love
because they sure as hell
aren't meant to be caged.

I would like to love someone
but my heart was made for wi(l)der things

isn't it strange
the names we give our pets?
the names they'll never know?

sometimes you look at yourself and your life and wonder
will it always be this way?
but when you sit back and think about it
no, the answer is no, the world changes
and God graces, and people forget
it won't always be this way
so maybe treasure your heartbreak
it's special, it means something
and it's worth it, all of it, even the ache.

God gave the wisemen their wisdom,
and to the poets their dreams.
To father and mother, their love for each other
but He left me out, so it seems.

I went around brokenhearted
thinking life was an empty affair
but when God gave me you,
it was then that I knew,
He'd given me more than my share.

they call us saints and sinners in the same church,
don't they? I would like to remind myself of the truth
I can't see it, I'm blinded and dizzy by the brilliance of light
it would be nice to forget, it would be nice to forget
the weight is gone, isn't it? for now, we aren't lonely,
I'm high on illusion island, while the world crashes
around me, the bombs spire and splatter, a cosmic light show
let me watch, let me watch, and pretend it isn't destruction
all I can see are fuzzy spots and my head is pounding
and yet, for some reason, it is blissful, lying here
supine on the ground...* get up Johnny boy, get up Johnny boy
get up cause the world has left you lying on the ground
you're my pride and joy, you're my pride and joy,
get up cause we all need you now.

if you're looking for a warm embrace
in the darkness- just look, we're already there
I'm here, we're here: with open arms.

like a week that's only Mondays
only ice cream, never sundaes
like a circle with no center
like a door marked, "Do Not Enter"

my mind can only contrive happy endings
and I've had to redefine what love means
I always knew I was trying to prove something
to someone, that I was interesting enough and worthy
of being loved, and someone told me I was
and then suddenly I wasn't, and then I searched about
for my own identity and I projected into the world
who I was, and my life became a letter addressed,
"Dear you," and I looked at someone elses' love
for proof that it existed and some kind of definition
to tell me what it was and that it wasn't all in vain
but I swear I didn't waste my time because I had found
that I was worth something but maybe not what I thought
I guess price is different depending on the buyer
and in the auction for my heart, some prices were too high
but it's alright, (and I have to keep telling myself it's alright)
and this is the first honest poem I've written in months
even though every other aspect of my life has been honest
or has it? As I carefully arranged my sayings and laughter
to be something I thought that was worth loving
I could not escape reality, the reality that I am who I am
and that no matter what happens to make me not want
to be me anymore, I am still me, and maybe I'm worth loving
right where I am and who I am. I'm not sure, though.
I guess that will come with time.

I hear them calling for you
I hear them calling for you

I feel the waves getting started
It's a rush inside I can't control
Your eyes keep pulling me in
I know, I know, I know
Your friends all talking 'bout me
They say I got no chance at all
Your fire is burning deep
In my soul, my soul, my soul

I ain't up for debating
You ain't up for the taking
We got the whole shaking

In the middle of the night when the wolves come out
Headed straight for your heart like a bullet in the dark
One by one, I gotta take them down
Better run and hide, ain't goin' down without a fight
I hear them calling for you
I hear them calling
In the middle of the night when the wolves come out
Headed straight for your heart
They come straight for your heart
I hear them calling for you
I hear them calling for you

I keep on holding tight now
Cause your body's telling me don't let go
We are gonna be starting up trouble
I know, I know, I know
Just bringing my demons out
More than ever now
Your beauty could start a war
As you walk in the door

I ain't up for debating
You ain't up for the taking
We got the whole shaking

In the middle of the night when the wolves come out
Headed straight for your heart
Like a bullet in the dark
One by one, I gotta take them down
Better run and hide, ain't goin' down without a fight
I hear them calling for you
I hear them calling
In the middle of the night when the wolves come out
Headed straight for your heart
They come straight for your heart
I hear them calling for you
I hear them calling for you

I wish it wasn't true
But the whole world's tryna get a piece of you
And my heart keeps fighting in this battle of fools
Gotta make it through, gotta make it through

In the middle of the night when the wolves come out
Headed straight for your heart
Like a bullet in the dark
One by one, I gotta take them down
Better run and hide, ain't going down without a fight
I hear them calling for you
I hear them calling
In the middle of the night when the wolves come out
Headed straight for your heart
They come straight for your heart
I hear them calling for you
I hear them calling for you

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.

"It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquillity: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts, as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, to absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their ***." ~ Charlotte Bronte (Jane Eyre)

"I think she has a crush on somebody from the boys
basketball team."
No. of course not the boys team.
Maybe it's me?
if her mom thinks she likes someone
related to basketball
it's gotta be me.

...please be me.

"The Balkan Peninsula is surrounded by the Adriatic Sea, Aegean Sea, and Black Sea..."
Looking around, I wonder which of you
have problems with your family
and who's kissed a girl
or a boy
and who has nights they barely remember
when they were broken beyond repair,
And who's skipped through a field, and batted their eyelashes
and cried on someone's shoulder
because I know we're all alive and we're together
here, and I'm not alone, I have to believe I'm not alone
you must've done stuff like this too
why hasn't it been communicated?
Why do I, like you, hide behind these uniforms in this class
because the wounds are too raw to display to even
others who have the same wounds?
Why am I scared to tell you and to communicate who I am
and these polite little lies cover up everything I say
we're too scared to offend or hurt those around us
and keep a bottle of feelings in the bed next to us,
not-to-be-shared with any but one who is inside the bottle.
Why do I write all these poems instead of paying attention in class?
Because there's something unhealthy in that
I can't say these things out loud
and everyone is sitting writing their own poems
privately, the cuts on their heart are more painful
than the ones clearly visible.
I can heal you. Show me.

is it real security if you have no rights?
what is your body worth if your soul cannot fly?
if you have the whole world but forfeit your life...

I wish I could be indifferent.
Anything but this
(all of this
whatever it is
but it is a lot-

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?

A rosary a day
keeps my pain and suffering away.
A dash of 1 John 4 to ease the discomfort-
meditations on Galatians or Ephesians for the tired soul
The letters of Peter for when you feel lonely
Colossians when you're lost without a hope
Philippians to ease a confused mind
Gospel of John to put in you in that state of adoration-
Isaiah for that destiny-calling
Job for the sad and broken
Proverbs for light reading, and
Psalms for all purposes!
No matter what the situation,
the structure and truth of Scripture
never fails to amaze me.
You can call me weak for relying on something bigger than me-
(as if my character is faulted for being humble
and not falsely believing I alone can find the answer [that's the biggest asset and the biggest flaw in the human psyche, by the way,])
sorry, honey, there are a lot of things bigger than me,
and my character has only been improved by acknowledging it.
You can call me ignorant but that's only ignorant to you
because within myself (the only place I can ever be),
I find solace in my God and my light-
I hope you're fine as you are,
but if you had a handy book filled with truth
and glory,
a beautiful, eternal story,
and hope when you need it,
wouldn't you read it?

we're all letting ourselves get so wounded so deeply by so many people

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 don't unwrite words from my pen, my skin, or my heart
nor will I ever unsay something I once said
sometimes I think maybe I should, but I don't
partly because I can't and partly because
I am who I was and who I am now, together
and I will not unwrite poems that breathed
"I love you" out of my soul, I will also not unsay
all the "*******'s" that flew out of my lips
driving alone in my car. I will not take back
those words. They are mine as much as any words.
If anything, more. I have been thinking a lot about
privacy: when something is too special to write about
when a moment should be kept to myself. And I've
worked on keeping more things to myself. It doesn't
mean they don't exist. It doesn't mean they aren't real.
If anything, it means that now, I am more real.
I have more of me to myself now. Less of me has been
pirated, parodied, and talked about- I belong to God
who sees all and knows all, and to myself, who bears witness
to words I've spoken in folly and words I've concealed in folly.
I can't guarantee I'll be perfect or always happy
or never **** up again. I can't hardly promise anything.
All I know is that I'm growing up, and Friday night
means books and songs and baths and studying, and I feel
sadder, yes, and also happier, in deeper ways,
I don't quite know who I am and I feel rather lost but
as one grows lost, one finds themselves, and I hope that
it happens for me. After all, I'm turning seventeen soon.

This is it, this is me
saying yes and letting go
of all the reasons why I ever said no
this is it- it's over now
I'm done with those chains in which my heart was bound
God, let me belong all to you
let me love nothing but you. Lord, I'm through
spending my time on people who talk behind my back
and those who loved me and don't have time for me now
Lord, I'm going to bow my soul to you.
Lord, take me as you find me
and make me new. I'm ready to lose myself
in your life and in your love. I'm ready
to leave me behind. Hold me steady.
Lord, let me spend every waking moment on you
every single thought I have directed only on your attention
Please, God, help me with my road to heaven.
I'm done with what's behind me. I give in.
I'm saying yes.
Thank you. I love you. Amen.

Seventy years ago, something happened that we have reduced
to the **** of jokes and to a figure in a distance
seventy years later we have forgotten the tears
but we should still be crying, if your heart is raw
and your bones are brittle, then you should feel it
in the place where words cannot go, it should cut
too deeply to ever heal.

sometimes I think that "if only" is written on my forehead
just as loudly as it echoes through my heart.

I just tried to type yes
and instead, typed Jesus
Freudian slip, maybe
because the Yes to my Lord and Savior
is the biggest and most important Yes
that I will ever say.

Are thoughts so dangerous that when they are shot into the world
they wreck lives and destroy friendships?
Are ideas so powerful that when given hold and worth
they can arm and flatten nations?

I shouldn't stay awake but
I can't fall asleep but
I'm scared to be alone but
I'm scared to be with anyone else but
maybe I'm scared to be myself but
maybe I'm scared to let someone love me but
maybe I love myself enough already but
maybe God loves me enough for all of us but
maybe I just want to be alone but
maybe I don't know how.

The whole world will shatter, whether you forgive yourself or not.
The difference is that if you forgive yourself,
you will still be there, standing above the rubble.
You will still be whole, even if nothing else is.

I have this passionate love for
non-tasteful, guitar-y songs that I can shout
and I live for really any kind of weather
all the subjects are my cup of tea
I like mountains and flatlands
city and country
when faced with all my wordly options
I have no idea what I wanna become
but there is one truth- a constant,
one magnetic north, even amidst the noise and haste:
there's nothing I can do;
I only wanna be with you.

Cause you can't stop the beat

Ever since this old world began
A woman found out if she shook it
She could shake up a man
And so I'm gonna shake and shimmy it
The best that I can today

'Cause you cant stop
The motion of the ocean
Or the sun in the sky
You can wonder if you wanna
But I never ask why

And if you try to hold me down
I'm gonna spit in your eye and say
That you cant stop the beat!