i remember the haunted house
and the hard significantly named "dentist" chair i had to sit in
that the arm of the chair fell off on my foot
and with fake blood smeared across my mouth.
i remember being so nauseated
from the fake blood
and the flashing lights
and the screaming.
but i remember the pounding
you'd be doing on the walls
you crazy gorilla
and even if it did give me a headache
i knew that you were nearby
and between groups
i remember that you would come into our room
and i would reach out my hand to you
and occasionally you would grab
and hold my hand
even if it was only a few seconds.
and that crisp october
before the long winter
and remembering those moments
have brought tears to my eyes.

it's just about one a.m.
i missed 11:11,
but this time,
i am thinking of you,
my dear.
and this time
i'm the only one
lying on thier back
trying to make
constellations out
of the marks
in the ceiling,
waiting for shooting stars.
i'm the only one
and i hope it's because
you're sleeping.

tonight
i feel on edge
both figuratively
and literally.
honestly
i can't even stand
as i lie, arms reach
to the oblivion below
those call hell.
i call it freedom
because anywhere
where the sun shines
seems to go sour at some point.
it's as if the sun itself
and life itself
are set against me

i haven't talked to you
at all i guess
and i chose to walk away
and no longer wait
maybe it was the air
of which you wouldn't look at me
or the condescending tone when you spoke French
but i walked away
and i've chosen not to call upon you
ask you how you were.
and i promised,
so there's this little part
eating away at me.
but i don't know
i shouldn't worry about it.
i should just take a deep breath.

it's been cold for the long time
and today the sun came out
and started melting the snow.
and it was warm, and cold
and for the first time
in a long time
i felt something
that represented that warmth
i think it's hope.

i'm angry
and i have no reason why
and being angry without a reason
is like grabbing a hot coal to throw
but burning myself.
and under the anger
i think there is pain.
this anger
has no explainable
cause
although
i feel it has
something do due
with loneliness.
as i said i think under
this anger
there is pain hidden away.

i guess this next week
won't be spring break
but winter break part two
and this next week
i won't see you.
and part of me aches
to see you in the morning
with wet hair
and sleepy eyes
attempting to finish the homework
you didn't the night before.
and part of me aches
to see you at lunch
with dry hair
and awake eyes
eating apple after apple
your friends and i give you.
so this next week
i will be apart from you
i'll still see you in the morning
but at lunch is a different story
i won't be bringing you apples.

the overwhelming
reminder
that i like you
has hit me head on.
like a car.
i had no time
to look in the headlights.
or perhaps i did.
perhaps the headlights,
were your eyes
and the car was your hug,
your arms the force
around me.
you and i are the car wreck
my dear.
and honestly, i don't think
i want it any other way.

speaking of bruises
my dear
when you remembered
you had given me a few
you ducked your head
as if embarrassed
or ashamed.
and i told you it was okay
because it is okay.
i don't mind
our sword fighting
having strength tests.
my dear, i don't mind
if i did
i would of been mad
or walked away crying.
as i have done before.

you could say
i'm bitter.
i guess i didn't have
enough sugar added.
that recipe
sugar and spice
and everything nice?
i got none of the chemical x.
i'm have no powers.
i must have gotten some spice
something bitter
something sour
that any of the sugar
if none
will push back
the bitterness.

today i remembered i like you.

my dear
it sure has been awhile.
i don't see you very often
but i still bring you apples at lunch
i still fix your hair,
i still steal a stare at you
across the hall
but pretend to be too busy reading
or homework, or drawing.

when really i should give you a smile.

today
you gave me a hug
out of no where
i didn't even have to ask.
and i just waned...
i just wanted to bury my face there
and inhale your scent and relax
because i'm so stressed.

my dear
thank you for the hug
i should of said thank you
but i proceeded to tell E.
that you hated me
and i don't know why.
E. replied that you love her
and i must of had some look on my face
and she added you two are good friends.
that's odd because i didn't tell her
i like you.
well you don't act that way with me
was my response,
i've had bruises,
i know this
i hear it but i do not tell her
and it isn't abuse
it was sword fighting.

he's tougher with me
rougher with me
someone once told me
you know he's not the same with you
perhaps he's shy?
perhaps he does like you?
and i couldn't believe
and i dismissed the thought until now
because i don't want to get my hopes up.

my dear,
you claim to not hate me.
but some days i just cry
because that seems to be a lie.
some days you swat me away,
or tell me to go away
your eyes get stormy
your complexion dark
and i can't help but to feel sorry
for what i did
if i did do something.
and i sit here crying
writing this poem for you
that you'll never read.

i don't understand
and you looked genuinely sorry
i told you, you had told me
"one day i'll be your friend
the next i'll knock you down a peg."
my dear,
you looked shocked,
your eyes widened
in a reaction i haven't
figured out yet.
you looked...sorry.
possibly even guilty.
and those brown and green eyes
were wide
and again
i'm not used to
having your full attention.

my dear,
you told me you were sorry.
and it was my turn to be shocked.

and i come back to the moment
full circle
where i remember that
i like you.
i remember again
and i won't stray.

there's an old saying
don't keep secrets
from the ones you love
it kills them.
if it kills them,
then i should see
so many tombstones
reading R.I.P.
curiosity killed me.
satisfaction, i won't give.
satisfaction won't come from my secrets.
satisfaction
relates to something happy
i am not happy
my secrets are not diary crushes
or exciting stories
they are good news.
my secrets are dark
twisted macabre fairy tails
that i give a lackadaisical
approach to writing.
if a secret does slip out
i try to recant
i don't want to see your mood
go saturnine
and your day raze down about you.
there's an old saying
don't keep secrets
from the ones you love
it kills them.
what someone doesn't know
won't **** them.

i'm calling
the time of death
3 March 2014
9:25:30.
my poems
are going to be
much darker
very soon.
i can sense
the depression
bubbling,
tar fingers
reaching
grasping
dragging
and i will fall.
i see no way
to get around it
i accept it
i will fall
and just like the other times
i don't know if i'll get up.
i can only just hope
that things
will get better.
again.

and i guess
what i regret most
was my bitterness.
i missed out
on two years of possible chances
on two years of getting to knows
on two years of actually belonging.
i missed out
on two years.
and now i'm paying for it.
"i'm just the painter"
i keep saying.
"i'm just the painter"
and it remains true and true.
painting is fun,
for so long.
i want to be part
of the stage.

another school night
i spend awake until twelve
because my body
has nothing better to do
than prepare to be miserable tomorrow.
sleep is my goal
but it seems
it's unattainable.

for part of a long time
in part of a long while
i keep thinking
i wouldn't mind
ending up with you.
i'm patient
i'm understanding.
i'm here.
i'm loyal.
i just lack the beauty.

can i fall into my bed
and pin the negative words
to my skin,
the positive leaving through the window,
and lose myself beneath the pillows and blankets
and become number one
the Queen
in my own world.
i'll make myself my own crown
woven out of the things
that make me happiest
and let me wear it on my head
and when it starts to rain
i'll remember the crown
and i must balance.
my life is about pretending
and my crown gives off that
glow of: "i'm ok."
because a smile
and a small laugh
will make everything
look normal.
when quite honestly, i'm hurting.
i just block you all out
to save you from me
a part of me thinks
if i let you in to this darkness
i'll drag you down with me
you'll suffer
and then i'll go circle after circle
only adding regret to my list
only adding guilt
to the letter of execution.
i feel guilty when
i tell someone how i feel
because the weight of my words
of my fears, of my emotions, of my depression--
i feel it'll turn your heart to stone
sink down within your other organs
and blow a hole through your chest
a gaping hole
a constant longing
a constant sense of loss
and you won't recover.
you'll slowly drown
just as i have.
you'll learn to draw into yourself
you'll learn to be unhappy
you'll inherit the want to die.
i don't want to see your eyes lose their light.
i don't want to see the dull
the lifeless pity
the sadness.
i want to see the light
i want to see the joy
i want to see you
at your best.
i want to see
happiness
at it's finest.
and if i have to suffer
for anybody's happiness
so be it.

my dear
lately i've seen you
grow closer to me
and if i'm persistent enough
maybe i will get one of those hugs
i continue to long for.
you do give the best hugs
you know.

ten o'clock
and i'm doubting.
doubting myself.
doubting you.

eleven o'clock
an hour has passed
and i'm still stuck
on how to write
this poem.

twelve o'clock
hopefully i'll be sleeping
instead of searching my ceiling
for constellations.
or tying to see the stars
in my city.

time
tic toc
any time o'clock
and i'm probably doubting.

and i get left behind again
on the road to achieving happiness
but it'll last
by now you deserve peace.
you've been through so much.
so it doesn't really matter
if i'm left behind again.
i'd rather see your happiness,
than mine.

if you stop
and wait long enough,
you can see my life build itself up.
going through the industrialization of happiness.
things seem to be looking up.
and then slowly
one worker slips
it's over extended itself on building up.
the resources are gone.
then they all start to.
it seems that war
inner and outer conflict; turmoil
has become the rival, t
he other power
versus the good.
it's black or it's white.
that seems to be my life.
there is no grey.
i'm not mysterious.
i'm not magical.
i'm not the face everyone inspects
not the voice everyone listens to.
it seems to be like a cold
(depression that is)
crawling back at unsuspecting times of my life.
reaching out to the light and strangling it.
i suppose you would try to understand.
maybe even try to help.
but in the end
like the industrialization of my happiness
your loyalty will crumble as well,
and i'll be left to my own devices.
and they're not dull.

you pulled me in your arms
and i wanted to melt
but i threw up guards
thick sheets of ice
quickly i wanted to
remove you from me.
quickly before i cry.
i don't want to cry
not at school and not with you
i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm fine
cliché as if stuck on repeat
or as if to sway myself
into believing.
so i turn away
and walk away
ice coating
my retreating back.

i've decided that
i need sunlight to be happy
and honey, you're a little cloudy.
the forecast calls for a little fog
and they say it might rain.
so i wait at the window.
for the weather to clear.
and hopefully
this cloudy weather
will clear from your eyes.

the message glares
back up at me.
i can't reply.
i don't want to.
instead i'll shove you away
as you told me you would do
watch me close shop
into myself
a tall being with four limbs
becoming round.
let me fold into myself.
i'm an armadillo.
i'm protected here.
away from your secrets
that hurt me.

i guess honestly
what i've been waiting for
in this harsh winter
is the sun.
and the constant
cool breeze.
spring is on it's way
and nostalgia
i think what it is most
is the slightly
frozen air
but thaw enough
to make me smile.
rather than sputter.

people are stunned
into silence
with some of my poems
and that's because
i show them the good ones
the ones i'm proud of
not the simple one
i wrote to feel lighter,
to remove that heavy
ice block
from my chest.
i show the good ones.
ones i have spent
forever
forming the words
and the emotion.

i'll let you in
on a secret.
i thought of asking
you to prom
my dove.

and you may never
see this
but please
if anything
have the knowledge
in the back of your head
that i would do
almost anything
for you.

but i remain as i am
i will try to be strong
i will try to be here
and keep my promise
for you.
it all sounds simple.
but if you think about it
i'm the girl who likes you
trying to help you
with liking another girl.
oh irony.

and even though,
despite my ideas
of setting you free
and the knowledge
i'm not eligible for being yours.
there's the constant
"i know why"
i get from seeing you.
i know why i fell
i know why.
but having fallen,
and knowing why
won't change anything.

i think
the most important
gift
i can give you
is my ears,
my words
and my presence.
because i will listen
i will give you advice
to my best capability
and i can just be there.
on rainy days,
cold days,
sunny days.
i'll just be here.
and possibly all three.

i think
the best idea for me
is to release you.
like and unlike
a magician
there is and isn't
something up my sleeve.
the love is there
the dove is there.
i'm going let you fly
and it may take me more
than these
three months
to release you
but i will
eventually.
and after
best of luck
my dove.

remember the stars
as i have
with dedication.
we live in the city
we forget about the stars
about the spacial blackness
above us.
there is no such thing as
darkness
just the absence of light
and in the city
we have too much of it.
remember the stars
as i have
they aren't hiding
they're being hidden.

i look for you
in every white car
on the streets.
as if by chance,
you would be in one
as i pass.
but life
doesn't work that way
but tomorrow i'll see you.
and i hope i earn a smile.

i'm one
small piece away
from giving you the bird
and letting myself
swan dive
over the cliff
to the oblivion.
what's the use
with all you people
if none of you care.
this is my anger showing
i hope you see it
read it
and weep.

i haven't talked
to you today
and
i'm depressed.
the ideas
keep hurting me
what if you don't
notice
that i wanted to see
what would happen.
it's pathetic
i know but
do i really brighten your day?
i'm scrambled
i'm sorry
this poem makes little sense
and later i'll look back
and see my unhappiness.

sometimes i think
that my compliments
go to people i want to impress
or make them like me
because i don't want to be not liked
and the problem of that matter is
i tell you readers this
is that more than often
i've felt
not welcome.

what are the consequences
if i lean towards you
in the car tonight.
just a slight lean
a moment
of deafening silence
your music blown away
by the intensity of our stares.

if i leaned in
signifying i would want a kiss
what would that mean?
i guess you would found out then
but what's the problem
people keep telling me to tell you anyway
but there are distant forevers
and i'm not a forever.
i'm just a present
two or three weeks
kind of gal.

i must look stupid
just smiling at you
in replies,
or to make some
reaction to what you said
i know i must look stupid.
i feel it.
what else do i say?
i want to win you over
have my name
engraved
on a golden cup
held under your heart.

i'm sorry
i'm not much help
i know i offered
and i try
but in the end
i just end up watching you
staring.
i know staring isn't kind
but you aren't a stranger
or at least not as much as
you used to be
and i go lengths
to watch.
but when you look at me
i look away.
i know i offered to help
but the truth is
i just wanted
to spend time with you.

i've resorted
pinching myself
in moments of uncertainty.
am i alive?
am i dreaming?
am i anything?
is this real?
questions
of existance
i makea my heart ache
and leave red marks
on my skin
just to know
is this real?
am i actually with you
was that smile really mine
in those moments of today
in hours, minutes, seconds...
pain seems to bring me back.
and i'm the tall tale fairy tale
in a worn out
forgotten book
that the librarians have decided
to give away for free
and it sits
and it sits
and it's lost, forgotten, not wanted
and it moves on
to some celestial recycling plant
to become something else
reincarnation,
but it all comes back down to
is this real
or am i just dreaming
because i am that forgotten
unlucky worn down book
and if someone gives me a chance
a read
i want to know.
pinching
is a test.

i long
for your arm
perched on my shoulder
like how a bird perches on it's home.
i want to be a safe place for you
i want to be a home,
not your home
but a home.
someplace where
you can perch
i can stay put, with you
and we can sit.
so my dear
chickadee
don't fly away.
just perch.

oh confidentiality
makes me stop
makes me think
i pause.
and i knock myself up
another peg
on stress.
i have open ears
but
when one's heart is
sometimes an eternal winter
there's a slippery *****.
and people can fall fast.

roses are red
violets are blue
how i wish you knew
the way i hold you
as i've said
you have no clue
only i wish
i can only hope
you do.

on friday
i'll pour myself a drink
of one part sadness
and two parts loneliness.
and i'll lock myself in my tower
a mock Rapunzel left waiting.
(my hair is too short anyway.)
and i'll spend friday
alone.

i guess
what hurts the most
is the fact
when i talk to you
i feel something
and i feel like you don't.
maybe you brought her up
to see what i'd say
maybe you continue to bring her up
to see what i'll do.
i like you.
and i can
scream it into my pillow
type it on worn out computer keys.
i like you.
i like you.
i like you.
repetitive motions
and sounds.
i can scream until i'm blue in the face
or until my keys no longer work.
i like you.
i like you.
but if i were to ever come face to face
and actually tell you
i would suffocate on the words
and my fingers would fall still.
i like you.
but those three words,
could ruin me.

suit me up in sadness.
and let it go unnoticed.
i'm given a
personal rain cloud
when i'm fifteen.
2011
deemed to be a hard year.
death seemed to rain about.
2012 wasn't much better.
death seemed to be a theme.
and i started to be weighed down
by the constant
blackness that absorbed my soul
and so i let it.
i let it eat the sunlight
the light in my eyes.
and let myself be sad.
so i began to draw
express myself
in secret ways
and secret
marks.

all i want to do is talk to you
and each time i respond
my heart sits on a perch
hoping you'll reply back.
and when you do
my heart jolts.
and then
the cycle
starts
over
again.

it may be the fact
that valentines day is friday.
or maybe it's because everyone seems
so happy.
i'm not content, i'm not good
i'm stuck.
maybe i'm in a low period.
someone's painting me blue.
maybe i'm in a low period.
someone change the hue.
i'm begging you.
i'm tired.
i'm sick.
of this loneliness.
they say time heals
they say time makes changes
but i'm waiting for the artist
to see the art form of my distress
and change it
no more blues.
no more cold hues.