daydream like you’re going
to live forever,
live like you’re going
to die tomorrow.

i would compare love to paper cuts
as it always seems to be the little things that hurt the most

if karma’s a ***** then love must be a ******* *****.

honestly it has gotten to the point where
if you pushed me
to the edge of the cliff i would
jump just to spite you

your insecurities have
made you careless,
wreckless even.
you’re searching
for something
that’ll make you feel
better about yourself
but what you have found
has actually made you
lose yourself
I don’t see
what i saw in you anymore
because it’s lost
so i think i must go as well
because i can’t stay and watch
while you continue to disappear

thunder &
lightning &
rain, oh my.

you never really cared about me,
i was there for show.
you looked at your trophy daughter
like “oh i’m such a good father”
i’m just sorry that it
took me so long
to catch on to what
was your plan all along
to use me and leave me
well you got your wish dad
now you’re gone

subconsciously you’re always there, bleeding into my words
like you’re entitled to those as well… it’s as if the grip on my heart
was not enough for you,
so you grasped onto my brain
and made my thoughts your own.

my surroundings
match my mind
the clutter in my
room coincides
with the crap
in my brain
why clean when
you can ignore?
my mental breakdown
should arrive around
the time when
you can no longer
see my floor

I felt my heart flutter around in my chest like a bird in a cage that has just learned it could fly

pulling apart this forget-me-not
petal by petal i say
“he loves me, he loves me not”
on the last petal i ask,
“does he love me?” he does not.

drink it down
another laced crown
woven around your head
eyelids heavy as lead
body feather light
floating above the night
things are blurring
words are slurring
little dress alluring
no regrets
at least not yet
fading in and out
lip gloss pout
inhibitions like heels; long gone
partying until dawn

you try so hard
to be gentle
but we both know
all your kisses
leave scars

having a best friend means
to forget your manners
let’s stuff our faces
while we talk **** and
about the ****** up stuff
going on in our lives
or in our heads
telling you my secrets
is my way of promising
to always keep yours
you and i have a bond
that cannot be broken
because meeting you was like meeting my other half
and the phrase “best friends”
hardly does our relationship justice
you’re my sister
you’re my missing piece
without you i wouldn’t be me
my life would ****
100 times more than it does today
if i didn’t have you to be sucky with
i love you
forever and always

i like to eat my thoughts
filling my stomach so it’s full with words
until it talks and says the stuff i will not
sugar coating my feelings to make them easy to digest
but the sweetness goes away leaving a bad taste and regret

The words don’t flow as freely from me these days.
I stare out the opened window, the sun burns my eyes, and I wonder if Seattle and I are suffering from the same drought.

spilled ink
soaks in
slowly and carelessly
stained color
stay inspired

i am a wilted rose.
once beautiful and blossoming,
life was fragrant.
worn by the days past,
my petals float away.

my name is melody
and i’d like to be stuck in your head
like a tune you’ve heard
and don’t want to forget

even roses have thorns,
the beauty is in the irony.

every person is a tree,
a community the forest.
striving to grow,
but trying to hold on to their roots.

i wish the rain would wash me away
to a place unknown
and drown my sorrows like the sidewalks
into the drains i would go
watering down the lines of reality
until the sun came out again
there’d be nothing of me remaining
only the memory of water

if tomorrow starts without me
leave me be
the present is a nightmare
my future is but a dream.

i always shy away from human contact
wondering why my skin is sensitive to the touch
but then i remember what is easily stolen is not so easily replaced
and for my mind and body that thought is too much

my mouth is a leaky faucet
it just doesn’t know when
to stop running

i should call you dope,
because i could get
addicted to you
and your pain.

i search for myself
in the words that i write
but i get lost
in thoughts
too many words, phrases,
ideas, and concepts.
the plot thickens -
i cannot see over the letters
i search for meaning
and find more questions
in this maze
called poetry

try hard
try harder
sigh
give up
save draft
go back
edit
wait
delete
he’ll never read it anyway.

when i see you
i see trees
because of all the paper
you’ve caused to be wasted
when i hear your voice
i hear the scratching of a pen
and i think of all the ink
that’s been spilled in your honor
when i think of you
i think of a ******* bin
full of notebooks
with all the poems
you’ll never read
about the first time i saw you
and i tried to capture your face on paper
about the first time i heard your voice
and i wasted ink trying to describe it
about how i think of you
and i still fill up notebooks
with poems you’ll never read.

i may have knocked
on your door with ill intentions,
but yours were much much worse
it seems we were both wolves
dressed as sheep.

wishing i could compile
all the thoughts that have ever crossed my mind
into something tangible
but my disorganized mind
has no time to stop
and correct
or make sense
because the next stream of consciousness comes along
like a full speed train with no conductor
and i’m tied to the tracks
all signs pointing to the fact i put myself there
but don’t forget who gave me the rope
bound my wrists
and left me for dead