I look at the moon, and I think of you.
I try and focus on the small twinkling stars, but your face pops into view.
I try to write the "beautiful" words you like so much, but the color is simply blue, for my feelings are too few.

                                    I know you will object, smile, and tell me that it is good anyway, because that's who you are.
                                   And though I might not feel it all, I'm almost guaranteed to take down my guard.
                                   But something feels strange when I do that with you, like maybe my guard doesn't need to be there at all.

                                                           ­            Maybe I'm just delusional, but I like to think you will be there again...one day.
                                                            ­           That maybe those couple of days, won't be the last... because babe, that would be so real, and I
                                                                ­       don't need real right now, I need happy, but you know that, so I'll smile as long as I can, which is as
                                                              ­         long as you're there, whether you are here or not......

We were lying together in your bed
I was gently drawing circles on your chest
        You were smiling and gently humming to yourself.
Every moment we spent together was always
        blissful and beautiful.

And I asked you a question
        as I turned my head to the side
                to listen to your heartbeat
                and see a glimpse of your face.

‘If you could go back and visit me at any age
        what age would you choose?’
Your heart pumped steadily
        You breathed evenly
        and you smile grew slightly larger.

‘Am I allowed to interact with you?’
        You always asked questions that I would never think of.

‘Sure,’
        I smiled.

‘I would go to you when you were thirteen.’

My body tensed.
        I was very different then
        I was shallow
        I was lost
        I was not the girl you fell in love with at thirteen.

You smiled.
You inhaled.

‘I would tell you that you are beautiful.
I would reassure you that you didn’t need them,
        that you have a bright and promising future ahead of you.
I would tell you that you are going to do amazing things.
I would help you not to worry about what they think.
I would ask you to never, ever change.

And I would tell you that you are right,
        you do not fit in
in the absolute best way possible.’

No I am not lying
When I tell you people are dying
You see me crying
Because there are so many not trying
You shouldn't be  starving when you have an option
There are so many children crying 
Because there is no option
Can you hear them asking?
Begging and pleading?
For someone to save them?
Starvation is the reason 
There are 2.6 million children 
Leaving
 every four season
See, every penny counts
Especially when it's something you believe in

So, stop acting like a fool
Wasting food 
When it's  a tool 
In basic survival
For those in need
Now get off your couch and stop feeling sorry
When you can be doing something about it
Don't put it off until tomorrow 
Because there might not even be one
For those starving in places like Africa or even your own state, city, and dare I say it; community.

1680

Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few—love at all.

I measured time in heartbeats and length
by how far your fingers traced on my skin.
Time passed like sultry summer nights
and length was as far as the night stars
that kept us company.
Every second was one I tried to keep safe
instead of cherish.
I wish you’d still wrap your hands around mine
as tight as you do your morning tea.
Because you are my pulmonary veins,
carrying all the broken parts I give and
returning them alive.
Reviving blood as dense as lead,
warming it like the sunrise I used to feel you in.
But now I can only battle eyelids that drop
like anchors near shallow shores;
trying to find the footing your eyes once gave
(still give).
And you might call me a liar,
but it felt like forever to me.
I still measure time in heartbeats
but length by how far
you feel from me.
And right now time moves
as quick as early mornings,
and length is farther than I’d like.

Don't tell me
that I'm beautiful
because beautiful people
don't sit in their rooms every night
wondering if anyone cares about them

Don't tell me
that I have pretty eyes
because all I use them for is crying
the bloodshot red overcomes the blue-grey
and shows the weakness

Don't tell me
that I'm not fat
because when I look in the mirror
all I see is my flabby body
and the abhorrent imperfections

Don't tell me
that my scarred skin is fine
because all I see are flaws in my growth
and stretch marks are the reason
for my tiresome adolescence

Don't tell me
that people love me
because loved people don't stand in the corner at parties
wanting it to all be over
because they aren't good enough

Don't tell me
that I am lovely
because lovely people
don't push the ones that mean the most to them
onto a boat, out to sea