one. dont read this one its embarrassing.
two. i just listened to three of my favorite songs and they made me think of you.
three. i want to be held by you.
four. i want to be kissed by you.
five. god, i should really sleep.
six.  i still remember when you first held my hand.
seven. yeah I'm lame.
eight. I should probably stop now
nine. it is too **** late
ten. pretend you didn't see this.
eleven. you make my knees weak.
twelve. whoops pretend I didn't say that
one.  please kiss me anyways.

you do not think about it often

you do not want to think about it anymore

the thought is still a fleeting one

the same one it has always been

so you are making coffee, or waiting for the microwave, or hitting the snooze button

and suddenly there is he is standing in front of you, right where you left him before you left all of him,  

right.           there.


he is not smiling,

neither are you.

Dearest You,
Don't you ever get tired of doing that? Throwing yourself at their unimpressed feet. Being stared down by their  cold  and too cool eyes. I guess, that quite simply, I don't understand.
You say you do it for the laughs, to make other happy, but honestly how does making yourself an idiot jester in their self proclaimed noble court make anyone happy? You just look empty inside.
And perhaps its another on your ways to mask this elusive hurt of yours.

Maybe

But I still wonder why you continue to try to climb up on that falsely glorified pedestal of theirs. Only to be left with scraped knees and bruises.
But how?
How to let yourself be stripped of your dignity and self- worth, how do you allow yourself to leave anyone who actually cares at your heels.  

Are they really that important? Are those 5 seconds of almost acceptance truly worth it all? We are only people, we crave to accepted.

But still

Perhaps its only me, but I refuse to value myself any less of what I'm worth. I refuse to lie to myself and to pretend that I don't care. I refuse to be pushed down and called inferior. I am sorry, but I can''t be part of that.

I just don't understand you.

Good Luck,

**M

And he's funny, if I walk into a room, and he's there, he'll always make me laugh. Sure, if we walk down the hallway together, we won't hear whisper's of they are so cute. We also won't hear whispers of that won't last long either. And he makes me happy, he makes me feel good about myself. So right now, for  me, thats enough. So yeah, I'm not the one,  but I'd rather be the reason for his smile, than the reason for his heartbreak. Maybe my mind will change later, but right now I like they way things are. I'm satisfied. He makes me happy,  and I like that.

If diamonds are supposed to be made from immense amounts of pressure, why am still dark and dusty?

In winter this **** storm of a town falls to nothing but a low hum

                 and it is a steady as it is wide spread
And in only a matter of weeks, we forget what it is to breathe fresh air
So we go through the motions of living in this assembly line kinda life
The motions of laughing and breathing and crying and falling and loving
And the influenza of seasonal depression is infectious so we wrap ourselves in coats and hats and scarves in hope of escaping the pathogen of loneliness that radiates through our stereos

                                                        ­                            In winter, this town falls into hibernation

the snow falls mercilessly, without anguish.

tell me
Were you awake when you first caught me, because I was still half-asleep when I found myself in your arms
Were you awake when you first kissed me, because I was in a dream when my lips first met yours
    But there was something in your electric touch that woke me
                            
                                                                ­                             And I remembered that snow *melts

Hair curled up in bobby pins, I think I look like my Grandmother. I remember her as she carefully pinned up her caramel golden hairs into perfect curls.

Last year seems like a long time ago.

Fire place slowly warming up the house, crackling.

And its all quite warming, its all **mine

Or maybe it was the wine.

They drank it like kings as if their French vintages could hide their infantile laughs.  
As if they could cover up their scar stained arms.

For hangovers end but their blood stained memories will not go away with more *****, with more money, with more "friends". And they are lonely.

Their money bought them love, and their ***** brought them friends. But now the bottles empty and they’ve been told one too many times that love never lasts.

They’ve found another bottle now.

They’ve found another excuse to celebrate.

But soon enough, they will bee drinking alone.

You.
You horrid person, you poor ignorant soul.
We write for love, something you would not know of.
We write because we **can, therefore we will.
You have no right to silence our songs, no right to quiet our cheers.
Do not shush of serenades of glory, do not hush our odes.
How dare you judge us?
How dare you judge her?
How dare you even try.
She amounts to more talent in an eyelash than you do in your whole fully developed being.
If you understood you would stop, but you do not.
Your poor ignorant fool.

Go ahead.
Be my guest, try to imagine all the pressure I go through each day.

Teenage angst is not something that ordinarily ices over me but now, I just can't help it.
The hot tears burn my cheeks because the one time I try, I really, really try to tell you, you don't even slightly understand.

So I feel alone.

Cause if you don't want to hear it, no one will.

And you say I'm dramatic.

Because all the tears that are coming out now are from my self centered nature, right?
Not from my long week, or my insecurities, not form all the heat that burns me from putting on this mask again and again every single time I walk through the door.

No, I'm sorry, my bad, I didn't mean to waste your time.

Let me tell you about trust and how easy it shatters

There is a fine line between resentment and rudeness and we ended up dancing right on it from the way everything fell.

I wish to be rid of you, to scrub even the finest dust of you from my shoes, I can dust you off without flinching nowadays

Let me tell you about how I light up a ******* room and it is down right shame you have shut yourself into such darkness

Do you hear yourself asking for me now?
Let me tell you about shoulder blades and rib cages and how they are so much stronger than what you imagine
I have carried the weight of two worlds on my shoulders and I have the bruises to prove it.
May my walk paralyze you over and over and over, I can undo you with the flick of a hip, make a mantra of me, its about time you learned a thing or two

There is a fine between loneliness and missing you, and I ended up dancing right on it from the way things fell

But I know my place,





                                                                                       and **I. stand. alone.

I hate it when thoughts of you keep me up at night

I hate it how your laugh-stained smile leaves an unforgettable imprint in my mind

And I hate I'm always scared, and I hate how I can't speak

I hate how you leave me breathless

So, I was thinking.... want to fall in love with me?

Words balancing on the tip of my tongue

I'm drowning in all the things I wish I could say

But I don't want to be that girl

I've always been the exception

Your exception

And naturally I'm terrified of what could happen

Of what would happen
Of what will happen
Of what won't happen

I know him as well as you can know someone in high school

I know him as well as you can memorize someones class schedule and favorite songs

As well as you can get used to hands on shoulders, hands on hips, hands on hands.

But the freckles on his arms are not nearly enough to make up constellations from so I'll make do with my finger tips

Big dipper and little dipper..they seem to fit
But I don't think he has favorite stars, so I hope that the freckles on my face are enough to satify the absence of astrology in his world

I found out that  our hands can be magnetic when bonfires attract us like moths to light and everything is always better in twos
  
Lately I have seen that this relationship of ours is unavoidable

He is the curb, the pole, the door frame that I will never miss, that I will always bump into, fall over, and fall for

You see, we were never the same apart as we are together, and I haven't been able to stop searching the room for his face since

Only a certain number of people join you when you laugh so hard you fall breathless

Even less will catch you on the way down

Sometimes his hands linger on my waist after he hugs me
those are the best kind of hugs

He is the only person that has ever made me feel adequate for slow dancing


Sometimes he smiles when our eyes meet

I dont know whether he does it out of habit or because he likes the way I smile back

I have decided I do not care which one, I'll take what I can get.

In one month, I have been lucky enough to breathe far from the small town  sometimes hesitate to call home

In Rome, the street lamps were endless and oozed romance like handsome strangers serenading in front of restaurants, and my name bouncing off all those brick walls, even the alleys begged my glance for just a little bit longer

On the nights where the rain beating against the brick walls blended in with our sleepy chaos, I could see myself crumbling into every corner of this country. I could melt into the rain, and ******* did I ever want to.

And I think I left my heart somewhere between the crumble of Pompeii to the rooftops of Sorrento, maybe somewhere on the cobblestone of Orvietto or the puddles of Rome , on the bridges of Florence, between all those hushed conversations, maybe while all held on to each other, honestly at this point I can't say I care to remember.

Now south where it taste like home, and this altitude high swings my hips like nothing else I've ever known, I walk with the rhythm of my family's stories on these very streets, and I like the bit of grown I've only but tasted. And this all too latin warmth could swallow me up if I let it.


And I just might let it.

Dear Friend,
Maybe your right

Maybe it will just get worse, maybe it will be terrible.
But you at least owe it to yourself to hope for good. You at least have to tell yourself that there is still a chance for it to be better, even if you don't believe it right now.
You have to believe that there is good, for good to happen.
And one day, when you least expect it, you'll look around and you'll remember how bad it was, and how good it got, and you'll be able to look at yourself and be absolutely satisfied with the wondrous person that you became.
And I know that you don't see it now, and thats okay. But you will see it, just hang in there.
Because one day, when your living in a far off, lit up city you'll remember me. You'll remember what I said, and you'll see that it was true. And there in your far off lit up city you'll be able to create your own happiness, because thats what people surrounded in starlit skyscrapers learn to do. So just take a couple steps back and try to look at the blurry finish line of where you want to be 10 years from now. And if there is no picture yet, then close your eyes and paint it yourself. I know it sounds scary, but thats what makes it terribly exciting.

It always gets better in the end, so if its not better, its not the end. Its just the beginning. And I know that rest of this chaotic adventure we call life will be wonderful. Because thats how it works, thats what life is
Truthfully,
**M

I love you

I love you in the way that life without  you would be very boring

But I would still be able to live.

Their laughter is like an orchestra

Words spill out of my mouth effortlessly, chin moving like an old painter's hand.

They all too willingly fall under my spell. Tears of joy flailing to the floor lying by broken glass.

My tears, however, sit at the bottom of my mask, slipping off the edges camouflaging into sweat at the back of my neck, running down my spine.

Still, jokes spill out like hundreds of years of untold secrets. Bubbling over edge, sizzling into bits of old stories.

**Most of them are true

Well I've been waiting, for a while...

So how much longer do I wait for these so called good things?

Dear hallway star gazer,

Did you know I fell for your eyes today?
And my knees grew weak from your smile today

This concrete wasteland is warmer with you around

**At least its you I fall for, either way we all go down

It was the whole universe on the surface area of the white wires that took me home. I like the oldies. Sometimes I’m just too tired to learn a new song. The old songs are just as good, just as beautiful, perhaps more.  And it’s not that I’m mad at you, I’d just rather hear Elton’s voice than yours. I know that your story is important, but I’ve heard it before. Yeah, I’ve heard his too, but his is more interesting, and I like it better. So please to don’t call me self- centered, like the uninteresting, dependent generation that I was born into.  So I don’t  think I’ll take out my headphones right now. I like hearing the music.

Hey guys!

This isn't really a poem, more like a message to all of you. I've been on this site for a while now, and I've never felt liked my writing really meant anything until I started writing here. You guys have really encouraged and inspired me so much.

Anyways, in my language arts class we have this project.

We have to put together a book of poetry that represents us.  I would like to use you guys in it. You guys are the most talented poets I know,  and I would be honored to be able to use your poetry in my book. If you'd be okay with me using your poetry, please let me know! Part of the project is also to include a bio of the writer. So if I use your poem(s), I need a little short paragraph about you. What you like, what you do, things like that. So.. yeah, thats pretty much it. I am really excited to hear back from you!
Thanks a million,
MJ

People like songs because they remind them of their favorite people
So why is his favorite song so sad



                                                          And when will I be able to listen to love songs again.

I am sorry I have not been writing..

The thing is, that until now, I've been kept busy with boys who have refused to leave my thoughts like a bad song stuck in my head

The thing is that the song was once good but now it only makes me sad,
the thing is that songs aren't as good when you can't picture someone in the lyrics.

The thing is, that you can only quote John Green to yourself so many times until all the words start to get painfully relatable.
Because "Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than the stories and people we're quoting..."
Because "thats the thing about pain, it demands to be felt"

The thing is that it gets hard to filter your feelings
Because everyone gets tired of not feeling good enough
Because everyone hates a good reason, and a clean break up
Because good and clean makes it hard to be angry
Because sometimes you really need to be angry
Because you cant cure a broken heart in five minutes, you can only lie about your pain tolerance

" You can love someone so much, but you can never love people as much as you'll miss them"
The thing is, that in the morning, I had never felt so empty before, I was not aware I could miss him that much
I think it was better this way, but I think it was worse too

The thing is, I missed out on all the possibilities, well we both did, but I care more
The thing is, It hurts because it mattered
The thing is, I can only pretend to forget

The thing is, I'm tired
The thing is, I haven't written because of him
The thing is, I've written because of him

The things is that there are too many things to say, and not enough courage
Because I'm a **** liar
Because you're a good friend
Because sometimes ****** things happen
Because sometime you cant always come up with a good reason or even a decent excuse, because thats just how somethings are right now and you cant talk yourself out of feelings
Though you sure can try.
The thing is I know I'll get over it, of course I'll get over it
The thing is I can only put so many things into words
Because this has made my head hurt with metaphors and one liners that he simply does not deserve.
Because it feels like I am busting at the seams with phrases that I've been collecting for weeks.
Because its late
Because I am tired
Because My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations.
Because you and I had a rather small infinity

Her sandal straps sat as thrones on her heels, embellishing the sand that clung close to her skin. Her smile seemed painted on by some distant relative of an old famous painter. And her hair it was a mixture of ocean and tears. Tangled in hopes and last chances.
Stubborn.

Never brushed, never tamed.

It was only then, sitting on that porch, tasting that sweetest lemonade, could she ever think about anything besides her summer.

Of course she could, but she never quite did. She was one of those loose cannons.

Unpredictable.

Then again why would anyone hate her for it? She was so new, so fun, so much potential for anything at all. She was wild and free.

Everyones first kiss and last dance were delicately braided into the gallery of bracelets strung on her arm.

Heartbreak and loneliness was etched in blues and blacks on her hands. Tattoos of worn adventure printed on her fingertips.

Her arms, so easy to fall into, so hard to let go of.

With every kiss she pulled you deeper into her world until you were drowning with affection. Affection for her, for you, for love

And you tried, you really did try writing her letters, telling her how much you missed her. But life got in the way. All good things come and go and she was here but now, now she is gone.

And perhaps one day you'll find her again. Old and frail like all great lovers end up you will laugh about how the two of you used to run barefoot on the streets of your city. How you would kiss her in the rain.
  And perhaps then, she will love you.

have an oil spill of hair, eyes blacker than night, but you,

you are not like me


you with all your mattress springs for locks, rusted brown combed back

you with your mahogany irises


and if I could I would give you my calluses
something to help you hold on

I would give you my hips, though you dance pretty good for a white kid, you might need a little more wiggle room to get by on in the city

I've got a quick tongue, not made of sugar like yours, or of marmalade or melodies but you can borrow it if you need it

and maybe one day you'll leave here and never look back
maybe you'll stay away from all suburbs or small towns that remind you of this one

I hope that even once your name is incandescent, you will still remember how it was at sixteen
I hope that you do not forget that you were not alone
I hope that even after the spotlight finds you, you will be kind to those that remind you of people like me and places like this

The Horror

Words cannot express how absolutely tragic this is.

Poor babies, sweet angels, gone in a moment.

Shinning young young faces stripped of their future.

No words, no words.

Brush stroke of lips on innocent skin.

First kisses are always the hardest ones to predict.

I don't like it when your late

The fog is getting thicker by the second

And I need to stop watching CSI so late at night

I don't like it when your  late

Even now in the cold, I count on the days your eyes are a little bit more forgiving

Even now in the cold, I wait for you, and I know I should bury my sword already but I can't

I count down the days for something to happen, for anything to happen, I miss the myths you used to tell me
There are nights when the air grows stiff with silence, and even then my heart hurts half empty
and my knees still sometimes quiver at the sight of you and I know now that I should bury my sword deep into the ground, it has lost almost all its glory and I am tired of feeling heavy with it.
My mouth grows bitter thinking how you used to touch me like that, how you used to look at me like that and I feel like burning the pages of a book I've been written out of.
You are happy now, and you are without me.
And I have been trying keep my head up, I have been trying to not let my thoughts become daggers

**I do not wait for you anymore for your eyes have never even flickered forgiveness, your eyes have only reflected criticism.
I do not miss the lies you told me, or your burning tongue

The snow shimmers in the night, and the moon kisses my driveway endlessly, I have slept without interruption.
My fist grows red hot at the sight of you, it craves connection with your jaw.
I wrote you out of all my favorite lyrics, I am not bitter, I am honest
I am happy now, and you are without me.

And It was like there was a fire in the underbelly of my heart, that I  had waited so long for. On the winding path that I constantly found myself lost in, I had found a reason. I had been lingering, hoping for some sort of inspiration, something to believe in, a map, a key. The uncertainty and curiosity that I tended to find myself tangled in, became my muse. Although I grasp tightly on to my reason, I doubt it will last long. I am known for losing things.

Dear New York City,

It is eleven on a rainy saturday and we are all still half asleep. I think I've forget what noise is. It so quiet here, its like everyone has forgotten the sounds of living. And how loud they could be, and how loud they should be. I've heard silence is a sign of insanity. I miss you car horn melodies that reminded me how that sanity was overrated.

Dear New York City,
I hope you know that I fell in love with you in five days. With you, I was drunk off a future I forgot could exist. Did you know all they do here is talk about you. Sometimes I look at my buildings from different angles pretending its you. This is how my heart breaks.

Dear New York City,
I love the way Manhattan tastes on my lips. It sounds like being young and dumb, like falling in love, it doesn't sound like high school, or retirement or me.

Dear New York City,
I am filled to the brim with the young, the terrified and the restless. Filled with dreamers, stuck in a small town dreaming of a big city. They wear your emblem on their chest, dreams falling from their backs. I think you should give them a call. I think we all need to hear from you.

Dear New York City,
Next time, take me with you.

Sincerely,
Smalltown Ohio.

Am I doing a good job?

Is it working this time?

Are you falling in love with me yet?

Maybe, I just want you to look at me and think,

Yeah, She is the one

Maybe....

One day our hands will intertwine into a beautiful melody of rugged innocence. And our love will run through heads and sit at our feet.
You won't even question it, neither will I.

We are notorious for preferring the simple.

One day something in both of our brain will click and then the pavement from your door to mine won't seem so boring.

One day.......

I used to miss him so much it hurt, so much  I could feel it on my skin, so much I felt completely empty, so much it kept me awake, so much I could cry,

and I did
and I'm not sorry for that

The heartbreak hit the hardest on the third day, and it shook me up more than I knew it could, I didn't think I would ever feel so broken

and I did
and I'm not ashamed of that anymore

Wanting someone so much, it stings is the most exhilarating madness I've ever known
There is something that makes you whole, when you're with someone like that

but loneliness is a cold heartbreaker, and it leaves you breathless and bruised

It takes every bit of logic from you, its the kind of madness that you cannot write yourself out of


And for a while he was my favorite person, and all I ever wanted to do was kiss him

                                                                                
                                                   for a while he was someone I could not let go of

She always held herself with the dignity of having a thousand masterpieces hanging from her lips but She never let me stand close enough to hear them
She was good at speaking from a safe distance like that

And as I stood with my toes curled over the edge of loving, she peered down the cliff and asked me if the fall was worth the raging waters
She tried to teach me the difference between love affair and romance, unzipping each word telling me  how some lies are still worth believing, when the truth is still to bitter to swallow whole.

She told me how the windchill can steal all the warmth right out of you, how it even leaves your mouth shivering and empty

I have written enough about it now to know you can see it in someones hands
I have written enough about it now to know you can taste it on someones words
And we stood there on that cliff until the whisper of dusk finally left our lips and my fingers began to turn blue

On the nights I woke up empty, she told me that the darkness swallows up light without even asking its name so don't you dare expect a roll call now. There is no welcome mat outside of 3am but we laid outside the door anyways and she let the sky paint me pictures

On the nights I woke up cold, she reminded me that hands are only as good as what you choose to hold on to, she always said there was some kind of art into weaving your hands into somebody else's. It was the one thing we agreed on.

She said I had a shimmer she couldnt trust just yet but on the night I couldn't read poetry she let me sit next her, she told me that the thing about people and metaphors is that we all need at little editing
and we could all use a little bit more work.

A pencil dive, when you're half way down into the cool deep,
finally realizing how bad you need air.
Then it becomes a struggle, a battle of  pushes and pulls.
It would be some much easier to give up but as your lungs shriek
in despair you know its the last thing you can do.  
So you get over the five seconds of struggle and
you make it back to civilization again.  
You continue this somewhat insane pattern of
deprivation and struggle just to remind yourself
how much you love the taste of air

I find it funny, how we all try to find perfection in love , when the love that we find is usually the most flawed.

But I guess thats what makes it beautiful.

I guess thats what makes love so **human

And I was perfect, to him at least, I was a heads up penny, a single ray of sunshine in a dark room. He told me how it was amazing how I was not already someone else's labeled piece in this silly game of love. He saw me how I wanted to see myself. And every moment we had was perfect, a perfect reproduction of what I had imagined it all to be. But like I always do, I ruin everything. He started to fall in love with me, as I fell out of love with him.

Closing my eyes, I see small bits and point of simple nothings making a pattern in my head. Every part of ever being here was completely unplanned.

At no point in my uneventful existence had I ever stopped and thought, You.

I suppose thats the glory of it all. The fact that I never even had the slightest notion of meeting you, yet it still happened.

And I don't know If your my somebody, but I do know that your are somebody.

Does that make sense?

I suppose it doesn't matter if it does or not, if jumbled my words so much around you that I guess you ought to be used to it.

So I don't know, and I'm amazed and oddly surprised that I don't know.

I like the Sinatra, drunk on trumpets kinda love songs

               Because when I hear them, I dream of slow dancing with you.

And for a couple moments there, we marveled at each other

But once you spoke of us in past tense, I wanted to forget to miss you again

I know that everything just got a bit too complicated
I do that sometimes, even though I never meant to

I know that good people hurt other good people
We do that sometimes, even if we never meant to

There are days when the air gets too heavy again
There are days when my favorite songs get sad again
But we all get a little bit broken sometimes
And sometimes its good to learn to stand on our own

   Even though its lonely

                                              
                 ­                               Even if it hurts




                                                      ­                                                                 ­         **a lot.

One.
She said it was gonna be tough

I didn't know it was going to be 1am still awake kind of tough

I thought I would be old enough now, strong enough now to stand up straight and on my own but I've never been on my own like that.
We were in this together from the beginning but he always ****** at keeping promises, and keeping it together.
And I always wanted to fix everything.
But we weren't broken, we began unassembled and we were to naive to even glance at the instructions so we put together this unbalanced time bomb of a thing, called it us. Called it trust, called it innocence. Calling it everything but the truth until we started calling each other out on our mistakes.
it just hurts man, it hurts like not being able to breathe, like being punched, it just hurts like I didn't think it could
I don't want to cry about him anymore, it all just hurts

                                                      
Two.
It snows heavy and it snows quiet here

The light leaves this sleepy little town without a trace, without even the smallest of goodbyes to hold on to.

How heavy are these burdens that we carry on our shoulders through hallways, into classrooms
we crumple and fold our heartbreak and failure between textbooks and notebooks and pencils

I have lost myself in more places than I have lost hairbands
There is no cheat sheet at the bottom of my book bag for this kind of broken

I play music loud these days, I put on headphones at 1 am so I can forget every angle of him
I don't want to think of him anymore, he has run me dry

                                                     

Three­. I wake up every morning hung over from the times I kissed him in my dreams
                                                     

Fou­r. And then come the nights when I think about him like crazy
These are moments I cannot escape. Nights where I lie awake.

                                                     

Five. It is an unnerving cycle of my heart wanting so bad to put it all into words, and my mind thinking he doesn't deserve them.

                                                     

Six­. The distance between the reality I want and the reality I have is so great that when standing between them equally, it is impossible to tell which is the lesser evil.

I find that you and me are exponentially and utterly compatible.

Kindergarden, best friends since then, isn't it funny how things work out?

Who would have known, there is red and there is blue, together making your favorite color.

New humans come, and they may go, you still are one of my favorites.

Reckless and stupid

Funny and loud

very
very
immature
I'd like you thank you, I'm very much glad that I found you...
Lets dance until dawn, we can pretend there's an audience below the stage
You know too much, you laugh to loud, and I love every minute of it
Now lets go make some enemies and roll around laughing on the ground
So thank you, thank you, for every bit.

I find my self searching for strength with sleepy eyelids

And I want to get so ******* in you, I will forget which parts are mine and which are yours
So that maybe if I surround myself enough in you, my heart will steady for long enough for me to feel significant
or at least  so my heart will steady for long enough so I can stand up straight, and look less scared

Sometimes I fill myself with so many unused words it makes me nauseous
and then my hands ache and shake from lack of use

the tips of my fingers are raw and red from plucking at dreams that feel too far beyond my reach
and it is getting hard to breathe

everyday this town feels like it is shrinking, and I am either to big to fit, or too small to be noticed
everyday this town feels heavier, and my shoulders are already exhausted from the dead weight of my head
this place makes my bones ache for air, my head spins wishing that I could put my soul someplace besides the bottom of my book bag
and I spend my nights dreaming of a future that feels four years too slow
I pretend that the stars are a skyline, so that maybe in my sleep deprived insanity I can breathe a little easier

So am I okay?
No I feel lost, and like shattering
        
           But you feel the same way too

               So maybe if we tell each other that we are okay now
                                         One day we will be.

we don't dance, not tonight

tonight, we are all looking a little bit more fabric than body
and I've got that sort of forced smile, awkward pose, first month of high school kind of look


the one with the wrong shoes, and the sweaty palms
the one with his older brother's suit, and no corsage


the one where we carpool


so we don't dance, no, not tonight


tonight is about feeling small next to the speakers


about the heel breaking, the uncomfortable laughter, and the sunday school slow dance
tonight is before the attitude



tonight is more dress than hips,
more dirt road than runway


no swagger, not the middle of dance floor




just a long line coming from the bathroom, and a mean homecoming queen

the lights are turned way down low, so we drop it accordingly

like dance baby dance cause we have never looked this good

because I bought this dress for this moment and it was worth every penny

cause most of this make up is my mothers but it feels like it was meant for me

and I pull at your tie like its taffy,

see my lips taste like candy, my eyes look like chocolate, and you twirl me around like caramel, so I feel just as golden  

tonight life is sweet

like dance baby dance cause right now your feet aren't hurting

like dance baby dance cause a beat won't ever feel this good

like dance baby dance, tonight I am all brown sugar, legs, and liquor in desserts



so dance baby, they can't take their eyes off of us,


dance like no one is watching

                                              because god knows everybody is

I think you should know that when I say something stupid I do it because it makes you laugh
Sometimes I think that maybe, if not during, but maybe in between those moments where your chest shakes at my clumsiness, you'll think I'm cute again.

The first time you broke my heart I tried to ignore it, like maybe if you never happened, if  I never even stopped to think about it, I wouldn't ever feel empty.
So picked up speed barely stopping to breathe
  I didn't want to feel what it was to be broken
And I felt myself too young to make an mantra of you just yet
It was nine days before freshman year and I couldn't afford to look weak, but the wind beneath my wings teased the open wounds with a bad taste and you told me you missed me before I fell out of the sky.

      Sometimes I wonder if we would have started differently would you still be by my side

The second time you broke my heart, I knew it was coming from the way it sat on my chest
And I tried to love myself back together but ****** kid, its like you knew exactly how to undo me
And I wanted to burn every song that made me think of you but they kept on playing new ones the radio until every love song made me want to cry. And I thought the wind would come for me again.

The second time you broke my heart, I wasn't nearly naive enough to try to pretend it wasn't happening. I let myself feel every vibration from each word that said I never made you happy
And I didn't understand how you got to be such a good liar.
I still turn off the radio when love songs come on sometimes but I've stopped waking up empty from thinking of you
                                                             ­                so I think thats fair


When you kissed me, I almost couldn't help but kiss you back, but I couldn't sell my soul to cheap teenage instinct like that. So if being friends with you means you calling me stunning, Ill take it but I don't trust it.

Yesterday you said I made you happy, and I still have hard time trying not to believe you

And in the darkest of nights,    
In the darkest of nights when not even the moon dares to peak out from its nebulous slumber, the ocean and sky have no beginning or end only black from earth to heaven.
Unlike us, neither ocean nor sky find fault in each others blackberry hues, unlike you the ocean never stopped kissing the shore line no matter the light.