her hair was ink
cascading her shoulders;
reflecting blue skies
of late winter.
and we sat stationary,
speaking foreign languages
and i realized i don’t even know her name.

you are a light in my life
like no other.
sometimes the morning sky
doesn’t always light up
in the winter months.
but you break through the fog.
you always have.

|m.s.

my chest hurt with the feeling of spring,
and i wept melting ice.
and from beneath the surface
came glowing sunlight
that startled even the darkest parts of me.

i don't make my computer
remember how to spell your name.
because therefore you are permanent.
and i know very well that you are not.

|m.s.

i've always wondered one thing:
"Why is there a space between good morning, and not goodnight?"
this may be solely due to how i write it,
but i'm moved to believe that there is no space
due to the unneeded grey area and empty space about the word.

i'm moved to believe that there is a lack of a space in goodnight
is due to the exhaustion we feel at the end of the day and night.
and we don't take anymore time to have hesitation.
it's "goodnight."
there are no doubts about this.

it may just be me,
but the English language is malicious.
but in the moments you call "Goodnight!" to someone in the dark,
separated by the distance and night chill of the beginning spring---
i'm moved to believe that the lack of a space isn't needed
because there is no grey area
in which to call: "Goodnight!" out to someone.
there is only the hope that we will wake up again to see the sun,
greeting with "Good Morning,"
and a space to sigh with relief.

|m.s.

i felt your eyes
across the room.
you were a perfect storm,
contained
within a dress shirt, and vest.
you were the epitome
of a monday morning
in the middle of winter,
your eyes spoke of
harsh cold, and windchill,
not quite ready
to emerge and go back to people.
but only i know how much you crave interaction.
you just avoid it from me.

|m.s.

i used to dream of flying,
soaring through the air.
i used to dream of flying,
when i was young,
interested in happier times.
then the dreams used to be of flying,
but then i could no longer speak.
and even after that i began to run,
chased by things i have been avoiding,
running from ideas that could break me.
then within my dreams, i began to fall.
and then i dreamt of death.
i no longer fly,
i am merely wordless, running,
falling.

|m.s.

on this break i've designated one thing.
to steer clear of you,
to remove you from me:
my soul, my essence.
twenty one days
is the amount of time needed to break a habit.
this break is less than that
sitting at a fourteen
enough for me to sit the night before we return
chewing my fingernails on if you'll be there in the morning
if you'll be safe, healthy,
alive.
a lot can happen in fourteen days
and it's awful for me to sit and think.
so far i've done a very good job keeping you out of my thoughts.
out of my conversations.
the only time you've come up
was that a few days into this break
i saw you
and blast it
my whole body heat up like fire
i felt my skin get clammy and hot
i felt conflicting emotions.
but one thing stood clear:
i want to be done with you.
now.
i have no time
for this beating around the bush *******.
i'm sick an tired of crying over your bipolar personality
being a friend one and a foe the next
you even know that i feel for you.
i've dreamt to hold your hand
and lie beside you and watch the sky be born
and grow old,
fading into black to count the stars.
i've wished for you
on lost pennies, four 1's--two 11's on a clock,
on stars, on birthday candles, crossed fingers, christmas lists.
i've written countless poems
expressing all my anguish and excitement.
god you bring out the worst in me, but also the best.
i'm so patient with you, but jealous towards others.
i wish you knew what you did to me.
i wish you knew what you did to me over
the fact that i feel for you,
over petty feelings that i'm ready to be over of,
that i've wasted a year and a half on.
twenty one days breaks a habit.
fourteen isn't quite enough,
but i'll take it.
tonight is the first time i've actually thought about you.
and this poem of promise
speaking of freedom from feeling so awful all the time,
sounds lovely.
i'm sorry to have inconvenienced you
for a year and a half
over feelings i should of put out immediately.
but fire spreads rapidly, my dear.
and i have a low tolerance of heat.

|m.s.

today, i couldn't remember a word
a certain phrase or idea.
it sat upon the tip of my tongue
and i, frustrated
thought extensively for it.

you, my dear
were standing beside me
you told me to take my mind off of it
"think of something completely different."

i thought of kissing you.

|m.s.

i don't ask for hugs anymore
but when I did,
you wrapped your arms around me
and i just sat there for a few seconds
unhealthy pretending,
and buried my face in your shoulder.
i pulled away after that.
then i sat in the audience and cried.

|m.s.

she asks what's for dinner, already planning what she will eat. it's not that she's hungry, but to the point where she is thinking of what she can eat and not feel guilty. it's not that she isn't hungry, but she guilts herself after eating. she could of eaten less, something healthier, nothing at all. she counts the pounds alongside the tears, curses her body for being seventy percent water, curses her curves, curses the stretch marks, that discolouration on her skin. she pinches her cheeks, pulls at her shirt. the fact that her t-shirt hangs off of her is for her own comfort. she's tried being comfortable with her body, but at all instances she is hyper aware of what she's wearing, where it's positioned, what she's doing, how she's sitting. her stomach hurts at the end of the day from holding it all in, from keeping herself from expanding, filling the space, shrinking back from the eye, and crossing her fingers, hoping she's not surpassing two-thirteen. people tell her she's the right size for her body type, but it isn't good enough. she's tall, but she's still pudgy. she hated her prom pictures. she hated her yearbook photo, she's afraid for her senior photos she's trying to lose weight for. but weight doesn't just fall like an apple off a tree, it takes time and time is what she doesn't have, and the depression from the world and over herself makes her too tired to do anything more, and it's a vicious cycle she keeps swirling through.

|m.s.

I AM RIDDEN with half assed makeup
and bed head hair
and i bet i look awful today
in jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt
and clay covered shoes
but i can't just keep keeping myself
together.
i'm ready
to
     fall
           apart
schools looking to be
sadder than usual
and i count the minutes
to go by
first, second, third, fourth, fifth.
why do i count down the time to go to bed?

|m.s.

again she "charms" her way
into the hearts of another boy
a man eater
she flies between boys-
like birds on electric wires,
to my displeasure
she doesn't shock herself
and take a base,
but gets off free
another relationship passes
and it becomes their fault
she blames them,
when in all actuality,
her true colours
shown through
and she's no rainbow.

|m.s.

fleeting glances,
i was worried you weren't here,
but i passed you in the hallway
and that's all i need
to set me up for a good day.

|m.s.

tonight, you drove me home.
at the restaurant you were quiet.
your eyes spoke of exhaustion,
yet you made your rounds.

you were quiet.
but once we got back in the car
you sprang to life once again.
loud, laughing...lovely.

after this week,
everything was worth it.
every tear,
and every headache.

when you pulled up to my house,
you just gave me this look.
you were quiet again.
and i just looked back at you.
living, limitless...lasting.

the thought of kissing you passed by,
but i slipped out of the car
and grabbed my things,
thanking you.

and instead of saying i love you.
i told you to drive safely,
because i felt that was the best to do.

after i closed the door,
i watched you drive away,
back to the road, home bound.
and part of me thought
"what if?"

but i'm not all about
the hypothetical,
what happened, happened,
and tonight, you drove me home.
loud, laughing, lovely, living, limitless, and lasting.
and i love you.

|m.s.

why can't  you think
of how your actions
cause negative consequences
where i trip over my own feet
in attempts to get away from you,
so you can't see
where my heart chips, breaks,
and the stones,
falling heavy into the ocean,
that send tidal waves
only one third survivable.

where most of the time
i see no reason to try to swim,
i can't control my arms
and i choose just to drown
in flowing rivers,
and collapse within myself
like a flower that's seen it's
time in the spotlight of life.

you make me cry a lot.

|m.s.

my heart is continuously breaking,
yet i keep subjecting it to these conditions:
of warm and cold climates of his personality.
my mind is starting to scream at me "no."
that i can't do this anymore
that i can't take the shock

i spend time tracking minutes and hours
when i should be realizing that time
is passing too quickly.

but then i spend time regretting
spending time tracking minutes and hours
and i should really just be enjoying myself.

but then i come to a place where
static is in my brain
and i just want to die
because disney movies are making me cry.
i've grown up too quickly
and sure i flaunt the fact that i am eighteen now
but really it's a curse.

i reach for the source of my demise,
and gently place it,
in the hands of my betrayal.
my heart doesn't know any better.
my heart only tries to be elastic,
bending back against the constraints of my chest.
i place it in the hands of my betrayal,
before my mind and heart
can come to a mutual agreement
that trust isn't the right option
and i'll go back to feeling broken.
my heart doesn't know any better,
and half the time i don't think
my mind knows any better either.
we're both resilient,
in silent ways.
we kind of recover.
my heart only tries to be elastic,
but elastic wears out.
how long will i continue to trust?

|m.s.

Eighty, he cried for someone dead.

They knocked. The door knocked back.

The good morning news to nobody.

911 called, time of death answered.

Fingers left prints. Hands left bruises.

The birds will still sing tomorrow.

The diary never held many secrets.

He remembered her. She remembered nothing.

He waited for her to return.

Joining her on stage, her wife.

Lost hopes. Reward for their restoration.

The paramedic drove; their love rode.

"Goodbye sir. I'm sorry. I failed."

the echoes of silent sorrow
reverberate forever in solitude.
i'm trying to find your face in the dark,
but like everyone else,
i'm succumbing.
i'm getting lost.
moving feels like i'm stuck,
having to fight everything
and above all else myself.
you're such a far off goal
one i'll never reach,
but you light the path
and the world around me
if not for a few moments.

a few moments
isn't ideal to strive for
but it's all i'll ever have with you,
so i go the distance
and wear myself out trying
and in the end,
at least i tried.
and trying is the distant sister of success
so i continue to try to see your face in the dark,
and a few moments
where you light up the backdrops
going stealthily by me.
today--you said good morning
and after last night,
it meant the world to me.

|m.s.

i could
spend hours
under the night sky
of a bedroom
counting the stars
within someone's eyes.

|m.s.

i used to make wishes
on 11:11 for your love
but i've learned,
and now i wish to let you go.

|m.s.

i would rather be broken heart-ed
and watching you with someone else
than lose this friendship.
and it's disheartening
because i know you'll never like me back, my dear.
time and time again
i think that i'll never be with you
because it's such a surreal concept
and you're just a dream,
such a far off dream,
and i just need someone
and i usually only want you.

|m.s.

for just a quick moment
i laid my head on your chest
and i felt at home.
but quick moments
are what **** me.

|m.s.

i was laying down
and you laid down beside me for seconds
and i could feel the electricity
when our eyes connected
and when our bodies were near,
and as if you were electrocuted
you sat upright
and left me
with an aftershock.

|m.s.

i guess what i really want to say is
"i like you."
but i'm so decently afraid of losing you as a friend
that i would rather nurse the wounds of a broken heart
and watch you be with someone else
so i wouldn't lose you at all.
i'm not a risk taker like that.

|m.s.

everything came caving in yesterday
and i nearly was crushed from the effort
to push the weight of a few words off of me.
my dear, i wished you good luck
on something important to you
and your friend turned to me and
said words i least wanted to hear.

"you like him, don't you?"

all at once i started unraveling,
like a ball of yarn
and i was starting to get tangled
from trying to collect myself of the floor
from the initial shock.
i didn't want to talk about this...
these feelings for you.
they're supposed to be secret
only for the ears of my heart to year
when you pass by or smile at me.
your friend turned to me again
and said more words that made me double over
"he knows."

|m.s.

the fact that you're dating
makes me know that
wishes on stars
on fountain coins
birthday candles
and 11:11
are just false hopes
and are to be avoided
at all cost.

|m.s.

if i could
take your hand in my own
and stare at you for a while...
i don't think i could ever be content
with just that.

|m.s.

what's wrong with me
is a problem and not a problem
within itself.
my problem is that
i am in love with you.
but also being in love with you
is not a problem.
but i continue to find myself
starting blankly into space
imagining my hand
with yours
and it's all i can do
to not start crying
at school
in fear that i may see you.

|m.s.

you wrote a message in my yearbook
that haunted me
you'd see me in three months
if you didn't die.
so three long months
i waited for you to call
and heard nothing.
my heart started to feel heavy
but i knew you were stronger than that.
and today i saw you
in brief passing
hallways are a battleground
but i pushed through
and walked away from you.
"distance. distance"
were the words i chanted to myself
because i didn't want to fall to pieces
at your feet.
after all...
it's still a secret
that i'm in love with you.

|m.s.

is english class
the place to fall in love?
my teacher always
places people near me
that captivate me
that i want to learn more about.
because i always had open ears
and starry eyes
for a dancer who's always too serious.
and to a band boy who's always humming.

|m.s.

i think
if i could kiss you in the rain
my life would be complete.
you could wash away
and leave me to be rained out
but i'd be ok with that.
because i would of gotten
to kiss you.
the rain is just a bonus.

|m.s.

i saw someone i knew
that i haven't seen in three months.
i knew it was them even from afar
by the way their hair had grown
and the way they walked.
and it's as if time itself slowed
allowing the seconds to clock our heartbeats
and i know now what they mean by "follow the light,"
because they were the light at the end of the tunnel.
and my feet were instinctively brought forward
but they disappeared down another hallway,
and i wanted to cry as time sped back up with me
because life is cruel
and i missed the chance to say hi
and even more...
see their smile.

|m.s.

wait a moment
don't get to ahead of yourself
the race hasn't started
we can't have them trailing
you need to get away,
waiting for that sharp ringing
of silence.
once it's there
the races have start
let them trail
let them fall.
you can cry now.

|m.s.

it's coming to be
that me being in love with you
is no longer a secret
and i fear for you knowing.
i know that look that people
get in their eyes.
i know that look of pity
and disgust,
especially if they don't
feel the same way.
and i know the distance
they apply once
the words are out and about
and i don't think
i could ever be close to you
again.

i taste you on my lips
and i feel you in every heartbeat.
but i've never actually kissed you.
and my heart beats alone
because even when you're in front of me--
you're so many miles away, my dear
with closed store window eyes
and a prison cell heart.

|m.s.

and the fact of the matter is
everything comes full circle
and i end up alone again.
no one's here for me.

|m.s.

and the cruel part of the world
claims another one.
the next day
the weather is sunny, clear skied and warm.
but somehow you feel detached.
the world owes us nothing.
it continues running
while our hearts want to dig heels in
to stop
just have a single moment to think
and understand...
we owe the world nothing.
and it's time is non stop
it's continuously running
whether someone dies and disappears
or our hearts finally stop
we owe the world nothing
and sadness is an emotion
the cruel part of the world
doesn't take the time to feel.
it just takes.

|m.s.

people say
love is different than a crush.
but i know i love you.
people say
then prove it.
unfortunately
i don't have the words
to tell you.
but i have the words
to show you.
each and every poem.

|m.s.

i think of being painless
so i can cut and remove
excess skin,
so i can be beautiful
but as i sit here
and look to myself
in the mirror.
who am i kidding?,
when the paper cut
on my finger
hurts like a *****.

|m.s.

i'm starting
to think of you
less and less.
but each time i do
it's increasingly
more painful.
and i don't know why
you're becoming
lesser and lesser
maybe it's me
finally understanding
what summer was for.
to have distance from you
and drop you from my heart
like a lever being pulled
and you falling through the bottom.
or maybe the thought of you
is just starting to become
so painful that i am
blocking you.
what am i going to do
in one month from now?

|m.s.

magician,
dear magician,
can you see my hand
within the crowd.
please choose me.
introduce me,
take hold of my hand.
for  your next trick,
make me disappear.

|m.s.

i find myself staying up
earlier and earlier each day
thoughts continue swarming
like wasps.
sleep is the only thing that draws them away, like flame.
but i can't fall asleep.
i'm not skilled
at creating fires.

unfortunately
for myself:
i can't seem to see past
the pounds and
the skin blemishes
to the beauty beneath
because our eyes only run
across the surface.
only some are able to pierce,
past the skin,
even further
to the soul.

i'm sitting
on pins and needles
until next thursday
when i get to see
the person i'm in love with
for the first time
in a month.

people say
'not until
it's set in stone.'
but people forget
even stones
erode.

|m.s.