i keep my poems short
because i'm afraid
i'll unravel something
that i can't unsay
and i can't un-think

My darling, sweet Prince Charming
now whiskey in the night
The arms that were so fond of love
are now so keen to fight
Awakened by the thought of you
left ending in a dream
When you said you loved me
what did you really mean?

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Oh dearie, how I long to be everything.
I want to be the moonlight, streaming down from the heavens unto a loner's cabin high in the forest. My beams caress each plank and stone- lightly touching, deeply moving. And when the loner looks out from his cabin high in the forest, up towards my beams from heaven, he'll realize he's not so alone.
I want to be the glass of an apartment window, overlooking the lives of those too busy looking down. Someone has to watch over them, so here I am, in honest transparency. Yet I belong to something greater, the primary memories of a young child, raised by her mother in this small apartment. And when the beauty through my glass catches her eye, that's when the dreaming will start.
I want to be the wire that clumsy teens trip over, bustling through the halls of a low-budget high school. When their heads are forced upwards, and balance is found, they will realize they are still standing. And they will be glad to be standing one more day.
There is so much I long to be.
And yet, there is so little time.

i know i'm in love
because i want everything to smell like you
even though
i don't know what you smell like
yet

returning back
to the art of word
makes me realize
there is no art in these words
the interpretation of such nouns
is what makes poetry
and what breaks poets

your eyes are kissing me
but let's not romanticize pain

w h a t     do you      w a n t     from     m e
you don't love me
you won't leave me
w h a t     do you      w a n t    from     m e
i can't give you everything
i refuse to give it twice

Because when I'm not with you,
I'm thinking about being with you.
Because when I see you,
every muscle in my body,
every sense, is awakened.
Because I don't care
for anything else.
Because, I told her,
I would never leave this town,
I would never make my dream,
I would carry my troubles
heavy on my shoulders,
I would work until my knuckles bled,
I'd go hungry,
I'd go sleepless,
I'd shed my skin a million times,
I'd take on a million faces,
I'd break and fall and hurt and cry
if it meant that I could do it all with you.

today, i am blue.
sometimes we need to be blue.
it's what makes us human.
it's what makes us poets.

does he look at everyone like that
and if so
is that because
he sees the beauty in everyone

either i be perfect
or i be poison
the eyes of an extremist
are always more fun

without you i'm healing
towards you there's no feeling
but when i'm with you
my mind starts reeling
my head falls back, eyes towards the ceiling
asking God in a whisper
"what kind of hand are you dealing??"

grey hoodie
blue eyes
too bad
he lies

the marijuana
does the trick
removing those
bad thoughts that stick

the alcohol
halts the flood
that scent of you
inside my blood

the hazy nights
a stranger's love
hides the dagger
removes the glove

but once the high is over, my thoughts out of the mud
it's time to start all over, 7 grams of bud

the loneliest people

gravitate towards big cities
crowded streets, family you never had
human warmth once lacked
filling up your field view
so you can't see
the emptiness
you hide

she drinks
he fights
seems to be
we write

i'm ripping out my hair.
i like the way it snaps.
crack crack
and so it breaks.
sounds familiar

know me better than most, they say
my adjectives and nouns
but when i fell down in the forest
no one heard a sound

the worst ones
are just like my father

an embrace from the past carries me to this day
how can i come back to reality
when the clouds of my clouded thoughts
are a reflection of pink

i gave you
more chances
than i gave myself
..
but it's my fault

i don't know why i'm crying
guess my body is just used to it
now it's my nightly routine
how i wipe off my makeup
every night

I gave you my heart.
I don't know where you put it.

pretending that he heard me
pretending that he cared
pretending that this crazy feeling
was something that we shared
pretending God had planned this out
and it was sure to be
pretending that it wasn't just
a fantasy and me

my jokes are never funny enough
my mind is never sunny enough
Are my tears even runny enough
to be counted as real?

i was in love with a boy, i was not enough
i am in love with a boy, i am not enough
i will love a boy, i will not be enough

When you grow up on love songs,
it gets pretty ******* hard to live without.

i really tried
but i couldn't replace the HIM
in every song
with anyone else

then i cut.
i have no flowery adjectives to romanticize it.
but i know that's what they want.

i am losing your name
you walked away
and i stayed
digging myself
an early grave
a piece of my mind
was what i gave
it's now lost, just like your name

i want to breathe the smoke through my lungs
the sting is so romantic

you sealed it tight
within your tank
and put it on display
it sank to the floor
forced to entertain
the bystanders that day

you didn't like
how it wouldn't act
or sing or dance with glee
and everyone had come around
as there was "a show to see"

but it refused to comply
with your cruel and selfish ways
and so you locked the tank forever
where I'll live out my days

but he is fiction
when i wanted history.

I have been lying for so long.
I have masked the ugly parts of myself that make me who I am.
Because to write about these things,
would not be as beautiful to read.
I wouldn't be a poet, I'd be psychotic.
Truth is, I am not "poetry".
I am not "romance".
I am just dramatic as ****.
"He" was never mine.
I was a freshman, "he" was a senior.
I wasn't "in love", I was obsessed.
"He" didn't break me, I did.
And I just never got over it.

the ones who write most eloquently
are not a product of fine-tuned education,
rather,
they are the ones
chosen to feel the most
to take every hit
as a blow
and effectively describe
this feeling
to those blind of heart
as the blind don't lack the humanity
nor the soul
simply they have morphine

it's a jumble of cliche words
designed to attract the attention of strangers
so that I can convince myself
that these things are real
that I am real
that the things I feel
don't just belong to empty space between my ears
that there's something out there
besides the backlash of my hurt
fantasies hurt less
please don't go

for every girl
he is a mark
that cannot be swept away
for every girl
he takes a heart
and paints her blue skies grey

Tell me, gracious
of what do you know
the girl who i was
long long ago
whose long, brown hair
danced to and fro
in weather when birds wouldn't sing

Have you heard of her
kind green eyes
an innocent heart
incapable of lies
how everyday she tries and tries
to play with those kids in the street

Did they tell you
how i used to play
before some creepy man
took my innocence away
before i cried on the floor
and prayed and prayed
that someone would come and save me

Do you recall
before i couldn't eat
before one, small apple
was a "special treat"
as the doctor told me to take a seat
and asked when my starving would end

Remember before
my heart was broken
by senior boys
with lovely words spoken
and crushed into pieces
they kept as a token
of how i was defeated

But that girl has not grown
as i have now
cannot say confidently
that she earned her crown
although all the suffering
did wear her down
i built myself back up

I feel asleep
dreaming of you
Now I'm in love,
what do I do?

i didn't know how i felt until she said
"why him?"
and then i remembered.
i remembered everything.

She just needs someone to hold
so she'll grab unto anything
a pack of cigarettes
a  lighter
anything warm
anything
The filter
will graze her skin
like no fingers
ever have
and the flick
of her thumb
on the greased metal
will light a flame
the only warmth she's ever known
And she'll light up
And she'll breath in
wishing the smoke
would never come out
that it would fill her up
make her tingle
make her warm
like no one ever would

don't cry because he didn't love you
nor because you sit alone
biding away
between meaningless breaks
in an endless day
not because they never saw
never looked
far enough
inside your mind

cry because they love too much
because every text and tweet
and shout in the hall
those whispers in you ear
had never known love
they abuse "love"
throw it around
like amateur middle-schoolers
playing catch

cry because you know
nothing other than this "love"
and too much to accept it