On Monday I missed you,
Because I swore I had lost my mind.
The sound of uncertainty bouncing on the driveway was deafening.
Two days before someone told me they hated poetry because everything had to have a deeper meaning.
Of course it has a deeper meaning,
I longed to scream,
it's life.

Home is just a four letter word for where we keep our souls.

I am sorry, but I have already ran.
I have ran so far past any possibility that in my mind;
it is over...
I know this isn't fair to you,
but I cannot love.
It is too much to ask of me when I am this broken.
I am sorry but I have ran, so far, so fast that the beginning was just a moment, and the inevitable ending;
I skipped.
Here I am;
left without a trace of you,
but covered in scars.
There you stand,
with no explanation,
and it is all my fault.
Yet, despite it all,
I still cannot convince myself to turn around.

May I ask you just this:
Did you wonder what would have happened,
if you didn't say goodbye?
I may have lost you, and it was painful;
But you have lost me and it is a tragedy.
I always loved you, but I never did.

keep spending expectations like currency on maybes,
Or miscounting the number of steps between us.
I can't quite reach what is already gone.
But I don't want to.
I'll keep singing lullabies to those who will not listen,
and you can tell me what it was that made you crave love,
but kept you from ever loving anyone in return.
I can't keep looking for reasons to things I don't want to know.

Our seconds,
Our hours,
Our days.
This is where we sleep with regrets;
Where we let the monsters win.
This is where we lose who we are in the search for who we should have been.

I am writing because I don’t know what else to do,
I still hope for a time where the light is coming from me and not the world around me.
Promise me that someday we will be here,
In our own world,
Far from the expectations
Because a lion and lamb can be more than predator and prey,
Can’t it be love?
Can’t they kiss each other and wish them the best instead of seeing the helplessness?
Please don’t see the helplessness,
I am the only one, who can arrange the fates of my heart,
But maybe I can’t at all.
Maybe when I cry over the unknown all I really have is a bird with no voice because I don't know where I’m going or where I’ve been,
My naivety is all too real.
I know it,
But deep down I also believe that on the other side of the door,
The room,
The day,
Lies your other half and someday breathing life into each other will create so much magic that the world won’t seem so scary and harsh.
Sometimes there is an obscure feeling of life being exactly what it’s meant to,
But I’m restless,
I can’t wait for the day my life begins.
Though it has.
I want to crave this world so deep,
So fully,
So wholly that I can’t stop living for a moment,
All I really am inside is a little girl,
In a Barbie dress,
Waiting for what everyone said I would find,
But never finding it.
Because deep in a state,
In a town,
On a road,
In a house,
Through the door,
On the desk,
In the drawer is a note from someone,
To someone that they can’t bear to read,
But can’t bear to throw away either.
So maybe we are the lion and the lamb,
Too prideful,
Too scared,
Waiting for someone to get us.
Tell me,
Why is helplessness bad?
Feeling things is better than nothing.
Remembering the way that people smell,
And smile,
And laugh with their mouths too wide,
Or smoke,
Or drink,
Or hug.
Don’t hug me with your flimsy arms,
Hug me tight,
Because even though I can be a lion,
I will most always be the lamb,
And I need to be held.
I hate the way you drink,
And smoke,
And laugh.
I hate the way I spent so much time thinking that I loved you,
That it took me this long to see I never did.
So you go think in your room,
I’ll go think in mine.