Don’t put me in a group and expect me to talk
Be careful with your questions or you’ll meet a roadblock
Ask me about my feelings and out the door I will walk
This is who I am

Despite my reluctance to deep conversation
Talking can sometimes be my great salvation
My inability to talk just brings me more and more frustration
This is who I am

If asked what I need I’d probably just shrug
Although you should know that I just want a hug
Just tell me that you love me and hold me snug
This is who I am

The rest of the time I seem as if I’m all smiles
I leave everything to clutter my brain in big piles
Then I put up a facade so no one can guess at my trials
This is who I am

Visiting my grandfather in the hospital

     started out as an innocent trip.
     He only needs to stay a few days, they said
     but then it all went downhill.

     I soon learned that I was the light.
     I was to bring joy into the dreary room,
     despite breaking apart on the inside.

Visiting my grandfather in the hospital

     meant crying before entering his room.
     It meant wiping my tears and throwing on a smile:
     a smile that would calm everyone’s nerves.

     It bonded us beyond any other relationship.
     Your hugs are the best medicine, my grandfather said,
     and I never again came or left without an embrace.

Visiting my grandfather in the hospital

     became almost a daily routine.
     I did everything I could to make him smile
     only to drive home in tears.

     Never once telling a soul
     what I was going through,
     bearing it all on my own.

               Visiting my grandfather in the hospital
               may have seemed hard at the time,
               but laying him down to rest
               was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I stand under the dark of night and look up at the sky
Every inch of the deep blue is filled with small, sparkling stars
The beauty amazes me and fills me with awe and wonder
How is it that this is the same sky you see each night?

Hundreds of miles separate us from each other
still we look upon the very same Milky Way
We have become connected through the night sky
just as the stars connect through constellations

Someday I’ll look upon your face again
We’ll stand together and admire the stars in the night sky
Until that day, remember me through the constellations
Big Dipper and Little Dipper, I’ll always be a mini you

Most people get a thrill
Me, I just get a chill
Yes, it’s true, I used to love it
But bit by bit, I came to dread it
I didn’t really have a place
I often thought I was only taking up space


Still, there were many good days
And those were thanks to others’ praise
I’d do anything for those around me
Those people who brought some glee
I also had my good friend the “lemur”
She helped me to become a believer

Believe in the system they said
However, I think we were being misled
Instead, I embraced the presence of others
Especially that of the mothers
They would say let’s just chat
And forget all about that

I never knew what Saturday’s would bring about
However, I’d always have plenty of time to see it all play out
Sometimes I’d get a smile or a squeeze on the shoulder
One told the other, “Oh, it surely consoled her”
All in all, I’m glad I was there
Times were hard but without it, I’d be nowhere

“You seem quiet today,” they say.
I reply, “Oh, I’m okay.”
My lies come out hasty
That’s just how it’s been lately

I think she can tell I’m not just fine
The problem is that my head and my heart don’t align
Even then, I just wish I could tell someone
My heart says to talk but my head says to run

My heart feels sad and heavy
Instead, I should feel steady
My head thinks the sadness is all a mistake
I just feel like such a fake

These things make me hurt but
I feel vain in my gut
Others have it so, so much worse
But here I go feeling as if I’m under some curse

Maybe that’s why I can’t talk about it
Does this make me a counterfeit?
It’s like I don’t have the right to be sad
For all of my blessings, I should be glad

I search for love and care and from some, it unfolds
My mom’s heart hurts from my dad but their marriage still holds
My grandpa has health problems but he is still here
I still talk to my friends even after they disappear

There’s something inside of me that I can’t see
I don’t like this different side of me
There is so much conflict going on
Maybe that’s why I’m always withdrawn

It’s like I don’t know who I am anymore
Inside my head and my heart I just can’t explore
I’ve isolated myself to a major degree
Now my isolation is what defines me

Slight wondering for an instant,
like a soft surrender,
strayed into her existence
like a burning embrace.

A mber leaves and golden fields glisten in the morning sun
    as farmers work each day to finish the harvest.
    After all  is done, the warmth of family welcomes them home.

U nfazed by the moonlight, a football field fills to the brim
    as school colors filter into the stands full of hopeful fans.
    All the while, friends huddle under blankets avoiding the chill.

T rucks fill pumpkin patches as families pick out decorations for
    their porches,
    and friends enjoy corn mazes, hayrack rides, and haunted trails.
    The excitement for Halloween grows like a wildfire as the day
    draws near.

U nder each roof, families come together for Thanksgiving:
    savory turkey, green beans, and pumpkin pie.
    The rest of the day is spent visiting with satisfied appetites.

M any girls search their closets to find sweaters
     for warmth and comfort as they try to ward off the crisp autumn
     air.
     Wrapped in soft, cozy cotton, the evening soon becomes as
     exciting as ever.

N othing can compete with all I love about fall:
    candy apples, pumpkin spice, sweaters, and fallen leaves.
    Needless to say, I am partial to the
                                       chilly nights,
                                            Halloween frights,
                                                 and football lights.

Is there anything in the world
sadder than unrequited love?
I’m not talking about romance;
that’s a completely different story.

But I mean loving someone
so deeply only to find
they barely think of you.

Missing someone so much
and crying yourself to sleep
only to find they get annoyed
when you reach out to them.

Craving their love and attention
only to find they think you’re needy.

This. This feeling. This is what I believe
is the equivalent to swallowing sand
every time you talk to that one person.

Breaking apart inside and drowning
as you slowly realize you are nothing.
Nothing special to the one you hold dear.
That is what I consider unrequited love.

Sadness and grief shrouded
her heart like a storm:
left aching with a world breaking,
yearning to be protected entirely
without fear of loss or separation,
an endless thought in the dark.

a smoke shadow
     the uncertain tremble
            a mind fiercely
dreaming - a - dark - melody

Five years old
and oh, so bold!
To the girls, she tried to be nice
but to them, it would not suffice.

Eight years and she agonized
over what she soon realized.
She was different from the rest.
They only thought of her as a pest.

At ten she looked for answers
to soothe her growing fears.
Fears of whispers at the cafeteria table
making her become unstable.

It was thirteen years
and there were the tears.
“Why don’t you just die?”
She could only ask why...

Sixteen was the end.
Never again would she mend.
Their words were the relentless dark
that shrouded her gentle heart.

How was it that at eighteen
this had not been foreseen?
Because of their constant tormenting,
she sought a permanent way to end the hurting.

I feel as though I’ve lived a thousand lives
I still always cry when not everyone survives
“It’s not like you’re really there,” they said
So what if all of this is happening inside my head
In those moments I left this world behind
Our lives then became intertwined
I shared their happiness and gain
I cried for their sorrows and pain
With them by my side, I made it to the finish
Without them, I would diminish
Not everyone came out on the other side
But, oh was it a beautiful ride
This is what comes of the stories of our age
I am so grateful for the stories on the page