and today i'll fight you again
even with my already
bruised ankle and
bruised wrist
from yesterday.
today i will pick up
our swords
and tell you to teach me
if you refuse i'll persist
you'll tell me you're not
a good teacher
or a good fighter
my dear that's a lie
so try please
at least try
i want to learn
try for me

love
isn't a new concept
it is as old as rage
and sadness
so why do people
treat me like i don't know
i know i'm young
but let me love

maybe
we could
leave
hand-in-hand
walk to the edge
of the universe
maybe
we would become
stars
locked in the night sky
you'd always be brighter
by the way.

hands like curtains she hides her face
has too much stage fright she says
she's afraid of tomatoes flying
scared to try.
when life gives you lemons; make lemonade.
when life throws tomatoes;
don't cry.
they are there for a reason.
people who know her
all call to her good things,
in those rare moments she actually peeks to see the audience.
things like: encore
bravo
but she ends up hiding again.
she isn't timid,
no
that's not the issue.
she's scared to try.
she's afraid of the harsher things,
such as
those tomatoes.
people try to teach her
that the tomatoes that are thrown:
yes
some are thrown to hurt
they try to teach her,
don't be afraid of the tomatoes
just learn to dodge
and clean them up
come out from behind the curtains
The stage awaits.

people asked you
why
and you couldn't explain.
my dear
i want to know why too.
why she?

you don't remember
but i do.
i tried to pick something up that fell
and you
threw me
away.
it wasn't my job,
is what you said.
oh i remember.
i had already had a bad day
a bad week.
and you
threw me.
i left.
it was cold, and had been snowing off and on
and i walked outside ready to leave.
i broke down.
and i cried.
you don't remember
but i do.
maybe
you don't even know.

i'm nervous
because i showed you a poem today.
what if you find all my poems?
each poem i write about you
is a small letter.
written for you,
but never will i tell you.
i'm afraid, after showing you it
you'll find me.
and read your secret letters.

tonight
while
i wait
for 11:11
again
this time
i have
another
small
wish:
"i wish you liked me."

however
even though you said that
i can't help how i feel.
your gem herself told me:
"can't you be done?"
as if just deciding to be done with him
is simple.
that's a mother ******* lie.
you can't just choose.
you may have,
but you no longer
liked him.

you haven't read my poems.
but neither has he.
but how dare you look me in the eye
and say
"can't you be done?"
i apologize but i have absolutely
no
control
over this.
don't try to stop me.

i'm not sure if i can
write poems about you
anymore.
today you told me
that you are not over
your gem.
i cannot compete.

i look for you in the morning
wednesdays, as i have said in the past
are my least favourites.
and it may be because i don't see you.
so i pose another question
then do i hate saturdays sand sundays
too?
maybe.
but i've caught myself dreaming of you
and even more so thinking of you
so on wednesdays
i take risks to see you
because that's the problem with them
you are here
but i don't get to see you.
at least on saturdays and sundays you are farther away
not that i like that any better
so on wednesdays,
i take risks for you

i asked you today
about a scar i had seen on you in the past
and you looked to where my finger had pointed
and shrugged.
"i don't remember."
was your reply.
so i pointed to another one,
on the other arm
and you looked there as well
"i don't remember."
was again your reply.

i paused, and withdrew my hand.
then you made the mistake to ask me
"where did you get yours?"
to which i replied,
"you already know."

however when writing a poem for you
and i've already written many
there is not enough room.
there are parameters to my poetry
and you
like the expanding universe cannot fit easily.
my dear,
there is no word for how my heart swells.
your concentration fascinates me
and i love listening to you breathe.
but there's not enough room for you here.
words on page, cannot begin to describe you
or even, how i feel.
you, the expanding universe,
my dear,
are never ending,
a string of words, a binary code.
but i try and commit you to paper.
and i admit, it's hard.

difficult but not bad
a.k.a. you
you're difficult
but you're not bad or hard to deal with
another poem for you dear.
i wish you could see
everything that i do
i've told you in the past you're difficult
but i say it with love
i try patience for you
and so far patience is with me
difficult, yes, but not bad.
you make me happiest.

i'm tired
not because i haven't enough sleep
but because i'm maxed out on life.
lately it's hard to focus
and i'm lacking hope.
people can't see through me.
i've learned this because i'm tired.
i know some days when i smile
it never reaches my eyes
depression has almost taken over
the phrase:
"i'm tired"
has a new meaning
it no longer means lack of sleep
and honestly
i'm tired.

i remember the scent of spring
and almost immediately
there is a sharp pang
nostalgia.

spring
doesn't stay long though
only long enough, to kiss the world
with flower lips
after winter is done crying upon her shoulders
she bids her goodbye,
relieving her of her harsh tantrums
and ice encasing human lives
and gently she brings her warmth
a little at first then all at once
as she passes it to summer.
spring doesn't stay long,
before you know it she's passed
along to summer
depression to kindness
kindness to fire
her memory will live on, however
during times of
ice and depression
heat and fire

my wishes may change but they're always revolving around you
as the Earth does the Sun
and your smile radiates warmth through me
i am the little rock planet
small and insignificant
others attract to you
even though you try to repel others at points
you end up drawing them back in.
example: me

you are a star,
if you think about it.
if i told you this
you would give me that look
that i know too well already
the one where you glare from beneath your eyelashes
eyebrows scrunched...
i'm not sure why you rebound compliments
but i give them in surplus anyway.
you'll just have to deal
and maybe i can install your confidence back
after your gem left you.
i won't be a crystal
but i can be your little rock planet.

it's 11:11 again
and i find myself staying up night after night
to manage to make that one wish
simply: let me be closer to you,
open up to me
don't fight me
except when we fake sword fight
that's ok

the sightless caress,
feeling with their hands.
fingers traced over skin
leaving tingling patterns.
sweet whispers of love
fall off each others lips.

the eyes are not important.
two bodies intertwined,
hearts pressed together
rhythms syncing
is all that matters.

there is not a angel
perched on my shoulder
what is good doesn't exist.
the fire engulfs
all that was good
good that shall be
nevermore.

where is the common sense?
something stupid
someone is hurt
lies can only cover so much
the truth is found out in the end.
the pain is fresh each time
sorry is overused.

sorry is overused
the pain is fresh each time
the truth is found out in the end
lies can only cover so much
someone is hurt
something stupid
where is the common sense?

pretty smile,

glue it in place.

tears for later, fall upon the tile.

let's cut to the chase,

you run a mile

only to race

to the end of said smile.

to me

she's sunshine and daises.

i may just be crazy

but i think i'm still destined to love.

yet my practice of said emotion,

possibly differs

from hers.

often enough
i can't tell
weather it's you
the Xanax
or the coffee talking.
i'm not sure who you are
but from what i've heard
yes, behind your back
i'm not sure what to collect from you.
there is the grey area about you,
inside you,
dwelling with the anxiety.
the grey is not theoretical
it is a way of life.
the grey
refers to a subject or a problem
that people do not know how to deal with
because there are no clear rules.
in this case

you

are the grey area
because i'm not sure how to deal with you
you just are

I've been hurt and mad and angry at you
but I keep returning don't I?
all smiles and joy
saved throughout the day
just for you
I hide my face when the other emotions come
because darling let me be
your sunshine
don't hide behind your curtains and shut me out

my dear
my wonderwall,
lately I'm suspicious that you've found out
that you're in my thoughts
more often than the second hand that ticks on the clock.
I can't decide though, if I want you to really know yet,
but until then I will write you secret poems
and make wishes on 11:11
coins in fountains
and shooting stars.
my dear,
my wonderwall,
lately, I've thought of you.

so often now
I find myself
thinking
taking time to
stop
and pause
rewind through memories
and events
and I cringe.

i think the only reason
i was happy today
is because i went outside.

even though i got a headache
even though i felt sick,

i felt the sunlight on my moon skin
and saw the sparkling land about me.

I believe that every time
we go to sleep
we die.
that dreams are heaven,
and nightmares are hell
and we wake again each day
with a restarted heart.
but those who die while sleeping,
either have been trapped
or have found their heaven.
but we never know
do we?