the first
and only time
i saw you cry
we were watching
our friends rehearse
for the play.
both of us had been watching
not lucky enough to be cast.
i sat next to you
and we watched monologues
be delivered.
but i looked over at you
at one point.
and you had tears in your eyes.
and i should of told you
"tears don't suit you."
and i should of
put a hand on your knee
to comfort you.

it's a late thursday night
and i've resorted to watching
the ice cubes melt
in my cup.
no reason why,
just time to slow down
thank god it's the weekend,
or i may have lost it
one more day.

i looked ahead in my calendar planner
to where the year ends
and i wrote:
junior year over.
one more to go.
and summer
but i felt the thickness between those pages from january to june
and a little bit of despair
set over.
that's a long time.

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 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.

this is a reason
why sleeping is better
or doing something mindless
is better.
because any given moment
of too much time on my hands
i'm going to think
and thinking grows ugly quickly.
the mind has a way
to let on to ideas you usually
don't want to think about
and in the next moment
you could be thinking of how to die,
rather than what you'll be doing
in three years.
the mind has a way
to block out the future
and think you won't survive.

so now you know
i've written a poem
about you
called
"the grey area"
and you liked it.
so also how you know
maybe
i've written other poems
about you as well
if you ask...
i don't know if i'll
tell you yes.

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.

i find myself
doing things
or saying things
that you do.
and it may be
because i've spent
so much time with you
and you're worn on me
leaving fingerprints on my skin
as well as bruises
but that's my fault as much as yours
and i've buried my face in your shoulder
and i've inhaled
your scent remains in my lungs
i'm not even surprised
when i do or say something
you do.

it's wednesday again
my world making another cycle
i'm sore
i'm tired
and i have a headache
i'm pretty sure
new bruises
are forming.
yes, because you you.
but i don't mind.
this isn't a
"i'm in a abusive relationship" poem
this is a poem about
how sword fighting with you
and strength tests
have gotten me closer to you
not only physically but as friends
and i've gotten stronger.

i feel like
people are going to say
you shouldn't post your poems online
because it's giving people an open door
into your personal life.
so what if i post my poems online?
i think they need to be heard.
this is one time where i won't conform to
other ideas because this is me.
i feel this is where i can truly post where i'm feeling
behind a scene of black and white
and words on a screen
where it matches mirror images of each poem
etched into my soul.

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.

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.

today's your birthday
and we haven't talked
in a little while.
i'm not angry with you
i just need a little time.
i won't be there
tomorrow,
i'm about a couple
hours away.
so i guess this
is your present.
i'm sorry it's lame.

you started out
as the gray area.
the gray
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
were the grey area
i wasn't sure how
and i still am not sure how
to deal with you.
you just are.

and i've written more
than one poem for you.
you know, to tell you the truth
i used to count down the minutes,
the seconds for third hour to end.
so i could walk beside you.
it was a highlight of my day.

i think this period
of silence between us
is just another lock
that i have to be patient with
before i discover the way to unlocking it.
and i don't know if it's yours
or if it's mine.
maybe it's my distance
after telling you
but i'll find  a way.
i won't stray from my promise.
i'm still here for you.
i'm still ears.
i still believe in you.
i'm your friend.

you are a phenomenal person
and i'm not sure how else
to put who you are
into poems
because you're much more
than black and white
i can put down on paper
or through keys
you're the gray.

so please     remember
today's your birthday
and happy birthday.
happiness always
for you.
-M

tomorrow can go two ways
each divided between two answers:
yes or no.
and the hand to my heart truth
is that i need to do this
or else i never know what you would say.
so tomorrow
i'll lure you into her office
and ask you there
m&m;'s waiting.
i'll have your full attention.
i can already feel my heart racing.
after you read the poster.
are you going to say yes
or no.

yes or no.
yes or no.
yes or no.

...is what i'm thinking
thinking of the scenario
how everything could change
how i could change
how we could change.
and i'm stricken with anxiety.
i need to do this.

my main thought
is maybe i'm just
meant to be alone.

i've been told
that i'm too
independent


and that possibly
i'll never marry
because of this
independence.

and it depresses me
because really why
would you tell a
teenager that.

it's every dream
for a girl to have
a dream wedding
and get married.

and you crushed that
telling me those things
too independent
too much of a "*****."

no.

|m.s.

i may be smiles
and laughs
in the morning and
through the afternoon
but as day stretches into night
i stretch along with it.
and by the time the sun
finally disappears
under the horizonal blanket
i lie in bed awake
and dark.

i try to be patient
i try to be humble
but as the days continue passing
i find myself with a strong will
to stare out the window.
the snow is starting to melt
leaving blue sky
and grass to be greened.
i just continue to sit within
closed classrooms
brick walls
and trick windows,
all of which keep me
inside.

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

a two way mirror
i hear fists banging
on the inside of my skull
how dare i try to let myself escape.
let me suit back up in quietness
and go back to being alone
become part of the foundation
i'm here to hold you up
but no to a voice
no i'm locking
myself back up.
looking from
behind my two
way mirror.

sometimes i consider
the lines of woe
on my arm
as semi-permanent medals
upon my skin
i consider them medals
due to the fact
i've survived up to this long.

but
i'm also ashamed
i guess i'm a two way street
as well as a two way mirror
and i'm ashamed about these
lines of woes,
i can't make up my mind
it's a up and down
of confidence and hating myself
and often i find myself at cross roads
on whether to take the plunge
or back up and leave my toes
hanging off the edge.

that word
"ultimatum"
makes me cringe
and sends me back
a day where
you were my number one.
the day you broke me
for the second time.
but i'm over that.
the word
just brings back
bad memories.

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 want to write poetry
so that they will move through
generation
after generation
words of my knowledge
bleed through the blood
of the words on a page
through the lips of the people.
but so far my poems revolve around
my adoration of you.

vanilla
taste so sweet.
yet so little.

vanilla
taste so sweet.
not to much now.

vanilla
taste so sweet
beautiful with it's simplicity.

dear
how many poems
about wednesday
will i write
before i get across to you
that i hate them.
because
you know.
but a few,
apparently
so for now let me sit
in the abandoned waiting room
waiting you to call my name
and thrusday to come.

waterfall
me down.
let me fall
straight into
your arms.
or
waterfall
me down.
let me fall
don't catch
watch me
plunge
into the
cold below.

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?

welcome back, chicago.
in all your windy glory.
dark harsh stares
and hunched shoulders.
i was late this morning,
our eyes connected once.
i scoped you out and found land.
but like an island you're surrounded
and a small fish can't go too far
without hope of hurting itself.
i didn't get a chance to say hello.
you made a windy exit,
but my eyes followed you,
yes, my eyes followed you.
welcome back, chicago.

we're done
let go of me,
we're done,
let go of me
you weren't the one.
we're done,
let go of me.
we're done.

at first i thought
that you could of
been the one.
one i could always depend on
i guess the feeling has run.
you still give me glances
in hallways and class
i won't give you a chance.
but let me say
we're done

but you keep looking
and you even have the nerve
to approach me online
you miss me you messed up
everything and anything.
we've gone from
friends
to stay away from,.
i didn't fall for that.
two times were enough.
i tried to be friends.
but that drew the line.
i've cut you from me
i've moved on.
so **** your ultimatums,
**** your apologies.
it was your fault
and i'm fishing again.

we're done.

|m.s.

one thing
or another
i'm always left
wondering
the truth of everything
anyway.
and in some cases
is really what i believed before
should i be believing?
possibly even what may be right,
that should be right is actually wrong.
the certainty in everything makes me
hard to get used to something.
is a person really who they say they are?
are they really who i believe them to be,
is the question i should ask.
am i seeing real
or am i seeing the fake.
we're finding ourselves after all.

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.