I don't know where it came from
Maybe it was the unusual warm air in November
Or maybe it was the need to be known
But at the mention of you
Or the faint glow of another window
I'm spiraling back into:
Blood drive river bank lace your fingers into my hips
Cold air nausea never even been kissed
But don't you know I want you more than ever
Don't you know I'd like to try?
But I'm only everyone's open arms
And you're their American icon
Strolling through winter wheat
Blond, strong and smirking at me
And I'm hiding in my skin
Insecure and inexperienced and I know exactly why
Petrified at the thought of another drive home alone
Tender at the thought of trusting
Be gentle with me
Only after I'm bruised deep blue
Walk home with me
Only after the lights are shot out and you've faded back to gray
I have no stomach to explain passion and no armor to field my family's questions
Just the burn of my chest under my thin jacket
And the warmth of your hand on my skin
And I met you at the blood drive and I let you under my skin
Deep red they bled me dry as I gave you all I had within
I'm alive but I'm weakened
And you put the color back in my cheeks
And you supported me all the way home
So maybe I spiraled into this
Maybe I'm still scared from the nights spent sleeping alone
But in the warm November air
I'll let you in
Spiraling again.

you get so used to something;
to someone;
never expect them to abandon you
though you condoned their departure

you saw it coming

it was all experienced yesterday
except, then
it was only a distant speck
you brushed away the dust you kicked up and
ignored the arguments that weighed on your conscience

you saw it coming

yet it still hits you like a freight train
with your back to it;
your earphones in
because you were trying to enjoy a walk
on such dangerous tracks;
such thin ice

you saw it coming

so what choice do you now have
but to finally collapse;
to let it run you over
and let your
omniscient bones
break?

you saw it coming,
but you let it hit you anyway.


please, get out of the way next time.

You may disagree with what I say
But
Poetry is supposed to have teeth
And if you disagree
That means I win
Because I made you feel something

You may not like my point of view
But
Poetry is a form of expression
A means to protest
Its not for the faint of heart
Its for the strong in thought

And to be true

The greatest poets of all time
Are the most controversial

At least they were in their own time