One by one the nreaths we take
Define the way we love and
The experiences we make.

Two ny two the pieces fall
Out of the ruins and into place,
No longer have we lost all-
Proof is the smile on your face.

One by one souls find their home
Build them up and thrive inside
No longer hiding in worlds unknown.

Side by side we take our stand
here we are forever free.
Living in a new eternal land
Simply made for you and me.

Too bad its all a dream,
One big living lie,
Like dinner of ice cream.

I always love when days get
so long and tragically dark that
we believe we can see the stars.

It's moments in life like that that we have to thank
for our growth. I find it inspiring that emptiness and fear
are brave enough to offer us a chance to question
and test our faith - I know what you're about to say
and yes, I am writing this at 2 a.m. while doing that exact
thing (questioning. Testing). But what kind of artist would I
be if I banished my starside rants from these hallowed pages
of clarity and what would I gain from my poetic

therapy sessions if I didn't at least try to make
something more stunning than roses or moons
from my pain? So allow me, if you will, to return
to my point. Because as people - nothing more than
the atoms that form the elements of our societies,

we crave friction and contact, balance and gentleness.
We must be reminded that others out there have felt
what we are feeling when we feel it. We must know
that never in any second of time will we ever be
truly alone. I have noticed something fascinating
in the way humans manage to be stars (fueled
and passionate) and snowflakes (frigid and stoic)
all at once - without ever so much as batting an eyelash

and no matter how horrible we feel or how dark
the sky gets we will Always remain more radiant
than the sun and more complex than any universe.

And it's always thoughts like this
that get me through the days
when I forget how to breathe.

You said, "see you later,"
I smiled, "Not yet, one sec..."
and stood on my tip toes
putting my lips to yours
praying you wouldn't mind
as I fell back to earth
and you walked away again
without saying a word.

I took my test, I did better
than I was expecting for
shaking so much and
thinking with a cloudy mind
as my heart kept time
to a different tune than usual.

You always said I would be
your first, but as perfect
as it was, I feel like I have
failed you once more and
if I were you, I don't think
I could forgive me for
something quite like that.

Hey, I know you ignore these, maybe that's why I write them,
it's a good way to vent 'cause there's always a you
that writers write to and a you that singers sing to
and what better source of inspiration and pain and hatred
in all it's beautifully, sweet complexities than someone with

every piece of your heart and soul? I'm sure you don't remember,
but it's still nice to wonder if you do from time to time,
I think it makes me feel better pretending that maybe I am more than
just another face without a name that you see in line at the grocery store
and recognize without actually remembering. So I am going to ask again,

do you remember when...

There's always a you that writers write to and a you
that singers always sing to, it just so happens that for me
you are that person for me. I know you don't read these,
but it gives me peace of mind knowing at least I wrote it for you.

Is it wrong of me to say that I miss you?

Remember that time when...?

The world shattered and the sky fell
as I was walking away, begging you
to follow me. To give some sort of
meaning to a lost girl I become.
But you didn't. I got out of sight
and far beyond ear shot, waiting for
the moment you would realize how much
we needed each other. You never came

I waited through the world's first
and second ends. I stood tall in the face
of Fear and after the silence I broke down
and watched myself lose pieces with
every step I took. The world shattered
and the sky fell as I learned that even I
don't want to be my friend which is why
I'm here, in the shadows, standing in line,
waiting to audition for loneliness.

Everything about you is wonderful
even the flaking skin and
shattering heart falling so
effortlessly apart.

Could I please have a chance
to pick up the pieces before
they hit the ground? Would you
let me put them back together
better than they were when
we found them at first?

Is it wrong for me to
love you, to miss you,
to want you, when you are
all about someone else?

Is there a soulution to
our problem or will I
just keep on dreaming
night after night waiting
for nothing that really
can't really be something?

Is it wrong for me to
love you, to miss you,
to want you, when you are
all about someone else?

Do the dead love?

Is the last kiss
of delight really so
cold to blind,
leave, then save
us all over again.

Do the dead love?

Writing all their secrets down
as tombstones crumble
on top of them yet again.

Darling, do tell me,

do the dead love?

Even after all this time,
you are still my password,
the face staring back at me
every time I check my e-mail,
a voice whispering words
no one will ever say to me
as Sleep comes
to pull me away

gently.

They tell me you are gone,
that you won't be coming back
it's not like your vacation
across the pond or the summer
you moved back home.

You left clues for me
as you contemplated whether
I was strong enough on my own
or not, I see that now,
words and stories of hope
or encouragement
to hold me up in your
prolonged absence.

But they don't help me
because you were the kind
of person that changes a girl
without even trying.

Even after all this time,
you are still my password,
the face staring back at me
every time I check my e-mail,
a voice whispering words
no one will ever say to me
as Sleep comes
to pull me away

gently.

And if you are reading this
as you always did, I just hope
you know I miss you so
much more than words
can ever

explain.

Strawberry, you've been calling me Poetry
for years now, I thought nothing of it when
I stumbled across this new potential home,
but baby this use starting to **** me.

I hope you're well and I hope to see you soon.

She does everything in her power
to make you happy and it never seems
to do her any good. She gave up her
world and everything she's ever known
for you to give her one chance.

Day after day she wakes up
with a smile on her face in hopes
you might see her in some new light
because night after night she pushes
herself to the furthest limits of life
trying to think of new things to do
for your attention. It's killing her.

Strong and brave, brilliant and sweet
she's one of those girls that will do
anything for love, even when they could
do so much better than where they're at.

Willing to die for a moment of
your precious time. Willing to
sacrifice anyone or anyhting
for a single word directed at her,
you need to understand how far
she will go for you.

You would be amazed if only you
knew the extent of her heart,
the pain behind her eyes, or the
way she's always felt about you;
and really that's all she wants
is for a spot in your heart.

She bottles herself up waiting
for the day you'll ask her name
or smile in her direction. She
stays quiet and alone the way you
once did, and you would never know.

I can tell you her story
because she is me, and I know
you are reading this, so I
thought maybe today would be
a good day to understand the extent
of a love that has yet to be born

And now all the words I read,
the ones with new form and stories
too deep to comprehend;

all the ones I read have
traces of you left
between the lines.

They all sound so pretty
until ghosts start asking questions
and shadows begin quoting
all the best things you have
ever said.

And all these words,
they are so perfect -
like you

but they have multiple meanings
and the stories are too true
for me to ever read again.



P.S. i know i shouldnt say this, but i hope ive done the same to all your favorite songs

"Where would we be if I hadn't thrown my halo off the clouds
and given my wings away before I jumped down?

The ash won't wash away from my hands
nor will the dirt on my face and it feels like the cuts will never heal
because the previous scars still haven't begun to fade.
It's like the night we watched the sky fall down
and counted the stars as they began to die
when everything went black and the smoke continued to rise. "
you thought to yourself as you walked around exploring your new town.

"Oh angel, why was it always so hard to breathe whenever you were around?
Aren't you supposed to take my hand and hold my heart,
make everything okay as we watch the world around us fall apart?"
I wondered night after night from the safety of my room
dancing in the chaos of simple songs with newly weighted lyrics.

Then days passed and we got further and further away from each other.
You ran in one direction and I followed in the wrong one.
Until someone saw the pain in your eyes and asked,
"Where has your sinner gone? You need them to balance out your purity.
Even angel's should know that's the way 'God' has you play the game,"
which left you broken on the sidewalk asking why
the swallows dance above the sun and where we would be

without all the delirium.





Oh angel, I thought breathing was difficult when you were here,
only now do I understand how completely impossible it was

before.

I know you.

You are so much
stronger than this.

The shadow inside my shadow screams
a blood curling scream, breaking
the silence of a cheap hotel
somewhere big with walls paper thin

and still the old ways we shared
haunt me in ways you will never
understand. Because you have yet
to spend a single midnight in Rome
while mending a broken soul.

Shame, shame you never listened
all that well, she said it every single day,

Wordless reminders and action filled phrases
she misses you as much as you miss her
if not infinitely more - I promise.

Shame, shame you don't listen
a little more, every night
she still screams your name

"Hey ***,
im in a place with basically no
internet connection.
just wanted to let you know
that im alright
and miss you.

ill keep in touch,"
you wrote to me not long
before you forgot
to come home again.

But you don't have to be here
to be the person you promised to be.

"If the world were ending tomorrow
I'd make it a point to come
and try to save you," I remember
you saying when I started that fight
and screamed, "NO! You don't!
You don't care! That's the problem!"

then threw my pen at the wall
and shut my computer so hard that
my brother could hear it
on the other end of the house.

But I didn't mean to fight you,
to push you away when I just wanted
you closer than you were.

"only 1087 painfully long days left
i would like to see you, really see you,
i would like to be with you somewhere,
anywhere... so it is true -
they are painfully long days," I once wrote
for you thinking you'd really be
my knight in shining armor

coming to save me from my own prison.
Little did I know you couldn't even
save yourself. I had no idea that you were
all talk and no walk. Now you're gone
and sometimes I forget that I'm supposed to
forget you. . .

You don't have to be here
to be the person you promised to be.

So please come home soon?

Sleep is important, I know this now,
especially when I will be talking to you
at 2 a.m. because no one else is awake
enough to hear the things we say or
the secrets we love to share.

Last night, I was really not myself,
I couldn't have been cause you called me
just to hear me laugh or at least have
proof I was not drowning in tears or
watching blood run down my wrist again.

something about love, just not the way
I thought you cared. then something that
made me melt, I believed because it felt
so real, so true. later mention of my
stupid dream being more than a dream to you.

I don't know if I'm going crazy, or
what I should be thinking about this,
but I just hoped maybe writing it out
would keep me from losing my head.

Sleep is a great thing - believe me
when I say it. Especially when the love
of your life is the most unpredictable
paranoid monster you will ever know.

To be honest I don't remember much
other than the things you would do to
keep my blood inside, and that I'm more
mature than you were at this age, or something
closeish to that. I don't know anything anymore.

Your words took my breath away,
they stole all my words and now
this old computer is eating my words
up exactly the way you did when we
first met. So I'll say I am lost and leave
things there, hoping you will understand.

I.
...I often wish someone would
love me enough to make me melt
from the inside out. No, I'm not suicidal
I just want the bliss and joy of being in love.
But who would be stupid enough
to love someone they
can't touch?

II.
...There are many days when
I don't want to get up or to get out
of the house. Not because I'm scared
or anything - I just feel too pretty for all
the chaos and hate in this
disgusting place.

III.
...I like to believe I am
a teddy bear - a child's favorite toy.
Every night I help someone fall asleep
and there's always someone out there
pouring their whole heart out to me.
I pretend that I'm soft like
my heart and that I can be
loved just as much as I love
those around me.

IV.
...There are more times than
I care to count when all I wanted was
to be the reason for your smile. I make
children jump for joy when school is canceled
because of me and the elderly are envious of my beauty -
but you, you're different. I hate the sun for
making you happier than I can.

"Your poetry is lonely," he said,
"Yet you write to feel less alone."

"I know," I answered the way wind answers
a hot afternoon jogger on the highway's edge.
There was a silence, the only noises were
the keys of his old typewriter

click clacking away at themselves,
"I'm sorry," I sobbed. He got up
and walked to the door, put his hand
on the doorknob, opened his heart

and faced me once more,
"It wasn't meant to hurt you, Love.
That's the last thing she said to me
and life is too precious to waste
thinking everyone's out to get you."

With that he left me to my thoughts,
replaying the scene again and again,
maybe I should get a typewriter myself
to write my story just as powerfully
as he wrote his. To be in some young person's
dream, inspiring them the way he does
for me. . .

The keys on my laptop are
wearing away, it's not that old.
The screen is ***** with grime
I can't remember at all.
The hard drive is filled completely
with stories and pictures

of only you and me.

Words race across once
empty lines on blank pages
alone in sad books as those
books sit on dusty shelves
waiting to be reminded

of only you and me.

There are thoughts in my head
I never thought I'd think,
things that make me happy,
let me pretend that I am loved
or adored or maybe just wanted,
like in the dreams I had sometimes

of only you and me.

I know you wont see this,
you never really did look
when I asked anyway;
but if for some reason
you've found your way here
I miss the nights

of only you and me.

I miss the way whispers felt
dancing along my neck as
time seemed to stand still
and your arms kept me close
to you as we planed a life

of only you and me.

Really, I think I just wish
things were back to the time

of only you and me.
Of only you and me.

you and me...

Sometimes
I fell I know how much
. . . you love me. . .

I feel like
sometimes you miss me
. . . . . . . and that hurts you. . .

Now
I am a monster
. . . . . . for scaring you away. . .

Sometimes
I want to love you
. . . but I can't. . .

Sometimes.

We were young, you pressed flowers while I
attempted poetry. It was a long time ago, almost
like another life I never lived. You looked at me
with the devil's eyes and said, "You can be
the angel kissin' on a sinner and I'll be the boy
on the porch steps drawing the map that'll get us
out of here someday."

"It'll be harmless fun," you smiled, but you didn't know
what fun is back then. You were the angel kissin' on me.
I guess that makes me the sinner, I was hardly in high school
and already tainted by lust, painted black, and splattered
with red. But I didn't tell you because I knew what you'd say.

We were young, you pressed flowers while I
attempted poetry. Hiding in a red leather diary.
If only you could see now the secrets that pages made
of stardust could keep when a person's young but not free.
I remember the way you used stones to write my name
on the beach and hope to etch my face in the snow.

That was when being in love was easy - all you had to do
was smile and say the words everyone else was saying.
when kissing was cute and running away together was sweet.
It was a simple time, long ago, when you saw my wings
as silk and made me a halo of daisies. We were young,
you pressed flowers while I wrote you poetry.

We were young, you pressed flowers while I
wrote you poetry. Line after line of pure emotion you
would never understand. Words you were too innocent
to comprehend, meanings I was just barely corrupt enough
to pen out for the world. You pressed flowers that waited
between pages of stardust for years that later became
decorations for the cover of my novel. The one I dedicated
to you for never being a first, but for loving me enough to
stick around anyway.

Don't tell a poet what to write,
don't tell an artist what to paint.
Trust me, that just isn't right,
and it doesn't make you a saint.

Just don't do it,
if you care so much
don't keep it a secret,
release with your own touch.

Don't tell a gamer how to play,
don't tell a ghost how to cry.
Trust me they'll have a lot to say,
and they won't even have to try.

You say you love me,
so let me express what I think.
You have to let me be free,
and I love the taste of ink.

Don't tell a girl how to dress,
don't tell a guy how to throw.
It only creates a bigger mess,
and takes you where you don't want to go.

It is the worst idea a person could get,
it's really not at all that smart.
Just give them space and let
them express with their own heart.

You hold a pencil in your hand
one ready for soft gray lines
before promising me anything;
though it is also more than capable
of engraving our entire life.

There is a sort of passion
in everything you do;
however it does fade away
sometimes slowly, preventing
mistakes too dark to erase.

As you drag that pencil across
the rough, pulpy paper again
I am coming up with the story to
tell on the same page when
others dare to pretend that they

understand.

Someday your work will be in
all the finest museums covering
ceilings in a million mausoleums
and yet that will not be the end.

Because one day they will know
your name the way I do.
I just hope that you remember
I loved you before you were cool;
you are my brightest star
and I would do anything for you.

When you finish this page
let me see it before moving on
I think I can inspire the next one
with lines showing the depth of you
and the contrast in me.

Someday we will be your
most famous work of

artistry.

"It is time

to forget me."

No. Please.

Please no.

I would,

but you see,

that is almost

impossible

to do when

you are

in love.

Fragile.

That's the only word I can think of
to describe the life I live and the kind
of person I am. There's only so much
to a lonely, old soul that anyone else
would ever even dream of

understanding.

But you, you know that already,
don't you? You come here daily
ready for your next does of my
thoughts bittersweet like the coffee
you sip as you read as much as you can
before the alarm for work goes off.

It's like you can't feel anything
for yourself unless you know what
I've been feeling lately, as though
you are only numb until I interfere
with your days. . .

Fragile.

That's more than who I am,
it's the life I live and the people
I love with every piece of my
shattered heart beating profusely
beneath this scarred chest of mine.

It's why these words sound so good
to you, why you think you understand,
even though, I know you don't. So don't
bother pretending, it doesn't make me
love you anymore than I do as is. But
don't worry, you weren't exactly meant to

understand.

The walls missed you so much that they
started talking last night. You left such
beautiful words behind that they are
almost enough to make me forget
you ever even left at all.

The shadows started asking where
you are and silence echoed back
as one of those half baked answers
when no one's sure if its better to lie
or tell the truth for the other's sake.

The radio voice makes me sick
and the songs he announces are
too much to take now, because he still
loves all of our favorite songs more than
we ever could. You really do leave an
impression everywhere you go,

and it's good I'm getting ready to
leave these memories and haunted
halls because this place will never be
the same again.

Dear You,

As much as I like to believe
you will never see these words
life has a funny way of proving me wrong
at any given opportunity. This being said
you have brought me to a much more
joyful place in my life than I can remember
being in a while.

With you words just flow
so much easier than they can be written,
every love song ever written has some sort of relevance,
and stars shine brighter than ever before
just for us. Maybe that is just because
of the love I have for you, and maybe
it's the way the entire world lights up
when you smile or how everything laughs along
when you do.

Whatever the reason,
I am so very glad you are
part of my life. So many people
have spent countless hours telling me
that I deserve more than what I had
in the past and I finally see
what they meant by that.

So thank you
for finding your way
into my experiences.

I love you.