Here’s to
the book
filled
with my emotion.
With words
that fit
and those
that cringe.

A homemade
journal
with chinese
script
given as a gift
and dubbed useless
by my
stable mind
until the day
I was so
sad that
I could not cry

I never
gave it a
second look
but on
that day
I wrote
a single
poem
and my life
was transformed

days and weeks
of suffering
when the
only consolation
was writing
in my
poetry book

soon the
days got
better
and I used
it less
and less
but
my poetry book
is always
there
to remind me
of the beauty
of happiness
and to
be here
with open arms
and open pages
when I
cannot see
that
happiness

I can't stop
thinking about
raindrops
on roses
how the perfectly round
droplets shine
and how they look
like diamonds
backed by an elegant
red dress
I can't stop
thinking about
the smell
of the rain
with the perfume
of the flower
and I can't stop
being happy.

careful beauty
seemingly casual
the color of blush
the wave of her hair
all created for effect
feigned comfort
false smiles
ignorant people
life seems normal
behind the timed laugh
there are screams
calls for help
yet no one sees
this girl was made in wonder
out of beauty
out of light
and no one sees her tumble
into the absence of night
someone help her now
before she gets too gone
and ends up
a shadow
on her way to heaven

I don't understand how
you can be like this
every time I try to get over you,
you do something
that makes me fall
head over heels in love with you

and the worst part
is that I'm not in love with you
I'm just in love with the idea of you
the idea that someone likes me
that someone wants to be with me
but no one does
you don't.

You know that feeling that you get when you let out all your air- and you sink to the bottom of the pool? You know that pressure you get in your chest when you need air in your lungs but can't breathe in? And you you know how your body wants to breathe in so badly but it's not physically possible because you're five feet under water? Well that's the feeling I have right now. I'm breathing but it doesn't feel like it and all I want to do is cry but I can't. I'm just stuck here alone with an immense pressure on my chest and no one notices the fact that I'm stuck at the bottom of the pool.

Remember the shoes sitting
alone in the corner of your room.
The worn black leather
and the velcro straps.
Those shoes that you wore
to the picture day when you
were six.
Remember the way you sat
on your piano with your feet swinging.
You plunking out of tune notes
that sounded like a song.
How about those two butterfly
necklaces you and your sister bought?
Didn't they turn your necks
a hue of green?
But you still loved them.
Are they still tucked in your jewelry box?
Remember the happiness you
felt when Dad came home at six.
Remember that the only thing that
scared you besides the
monsters in your closet was
when Marley appeared in A Christmas Carol.
Remember the feelings,
the trials, the happiness,
the laughter, the innocence.
Of you as a child.

I'm normally the bird who sits high in the tree,
not afraid to fly or to be alone,
but sometimes the cold gets a little too cold,
and there are places I want to feel like home.

I don't always want the world to feel like open air,
just waiting for me to fall,
I need to be wrapped up in someones embrace,
and to be protected from it all.

Flying alone in the air is harder than it looks,
my wings are torn and tired
my feet are word and cold
and I need someone to help me
to keep me strong and bold.

Will you be that person?
to protect me from the air?
and what it feels like to be falling,
into the abyss of hell on earth?