Staring at the blank page in front of me. Thinking of what to say. I want to tell you so much, but I'm scared you'll run away. To tell you I love you, tell you that I care. But I don't think I would do it, even on a dare. Sometimes I get nervous about what to say or do. But your smile makes it all go away. My world revolves around you. I really think I love you. You can always make me laugh. I just wish you would realize that I'm your other half. Seeing you with her makes me sad and blue. And I HATE being jealous so there's only one thing to do. The next time that I see you I'll march right up and say,"I think I've been in love with you since the beginning of 7th grade." And all I can do is hope that when that day comes, you will finally open your eyes and see that I'm the only one.

You hate my poems
You say they take me from you
that they're pointless
a waste of time
maybe you're right.
You read them,
just the words as they fall,
and say you get nothing
just syllables.
I have lost count
of the sighs and eyerolls,
the you have no talents,
they sit in a memory box
along with the times you've asked me to stop.
Stop.
Just like that.
Stop pouring myself onto paper,
Stop looking for beauty in darkness,
Stop healing.
You prefer me broken, fragile, dependant,
the girl you took from nowhere to god knows where
a once pretty, broken thing
to hang silently from your arm
while you talk proudly of the soul that you saved.
You fear that my writing will end us.
I fear that my stopping will end me.

Are you even capable of such feelings?
When you inhale
You pull the life right out of me
And I’m left, alone
Waiting*
Exhale