If I could write you a poem,
Every hour, every minute,
To transcribe how I feel,
I would.

I ‘d let your hands touch my cheeks,
See right into my brain,
Read my thoughts, read my heart,
If I could.

I can’t always explain them,
The things that I do,
I go crazy, and selfish,
And blind.

But insane as I am,
I never forget
You’re my only,
And you’re one of a kind.

My hands,
As they stumble
Through keystrokes
Can never do justice to the warmth in your soul.

Or the way you are more
Than lips I can kiss,
Or a smile,
Or some hand I can hold.

Like a gentle roughness,
An echoing whisper,
Or an imperfection that makes something
Absolutely flawless,

You are something
So few souls can understand or fathom
That the thought of you
Makes them incredulous.

And being the uncharitable girl
That I am,
You’re a treasure
I won’t willingly share.

To risk something
So rare,
And of such high value,
Would be like walking into a snare.

For you, my dearest love,
Are not my just moon,
Or my stars,
But my radiant sunset.

Daily transforming beauty
That’s taken for granted
Into something
I’ll never forget.

Our every encounter
Is a rose among daisies—
Making memories
And never squandering time.

Though of it,
We lose track
As the clock fades into the background
Disappearing along with its chime.

But as goodbyes rush on us,
All too quickly,
And we kiss,
So reluctant to part,

I hope you always will know,
No matter how far you go,
My train of thought will always lead back
To your heart.

If I could write you a poem,
Every hour, every minute,
To transcribe how I feel,
I would.

I ‘d let your hands touch my cheeks,
See right into my brain,
Read my thoughts, read my heart,
If I could.

I can’t always explain them,
The things that I do,
I go crazy, and selfish,
And blind.

But insane as I am,
I never forget
You’re my man,
And you’re one of a kind.

My hands,
As they stumble
Through keystrokes
Can never do justice to the warmth in your soul.

Or the way you are more
Than lips I can kiss,
Or a smile,
Or some hand I can hold.

Like a gentle roughness,
An echoing whisper,
Or an imperfection that makes something
Absolutely flawless,

You are something
So few souls can understand or fathom
That the thought of you
Makes them incredulous.

And being the uncharitable girl that I am,
You’re a treasure I won’t willingly share—
To risk something so rare, and of such high value,
Would be like walking into a snare.

For you, my dearest love,
Are not my just moon,
Or my stars,
But my radiant sunset.

Daily transforming beauty
That’s taken for granted
Into something
I’ll never forget.

Our every encounter
Is a rose among daisies—
Making memories
And never squandering time.

Though of it,
We lose track
As the clock fades into the background
Disappearing along with its chime.

But as goodbyes rush on us,
All too quickly,
And we kiss,
So reluctant to part,

I hope you always will know,
No matter how far you go,
My train of thought will always lead back
To your heart.

He listens--
Like a priest to confession,
Like a perfectionist to praise,
Like a child to the jingle of an ice cream truck.

And as waves of nearly psychotic personal reflection come spilling out of my mouth in the form of an attempted conversation,
I find that I am searching in his eyes,
Pleading for his rescue from my own awkwardness and stupidity,
And the self-loathing that accompanies identifying such qualities within yourself.

And I know,
By the look he returns,
That one of two things must be true;

Either he has no idea how just how deep my stream of random and obtrusively odd curiosities and ponderings really is...

Or he does know,
And he just loves me.

And then, I wonder what kind of idiot he must be to fall for someone so grossly imperfect,
So terribly undeserving of adoration and devotion.

And I supposed, he must be my kind of idiot.

Because in a mind filled with ambitions and information and drive and intrigue,
He always makes room for me.

And as it turns out, I like myself more for him loving me.
Because memories of him increase my value infinitely.

I cannot buy them or remake them.
If I let them go, they are gone forever.
Unforgettable memories are the currency of love.

Just like a child coloring a picture, writing really isn’t about what’s in the lines. It’s about having the courage to suggest something beyond the lines, beyond what everyone expects to create a beautifully messy new truth that might one day move someone else the way it moved you, when it flowed from your brain to the page.

Real happiness.
It’s the difference between hiding under the umbrella
To avoid wet socks,
And letting your hair down
To dance in the rain.
Because really, life is unpredictable.
And if you spend too much time looking down to avoid puddles,
You’ll forget to look up at the rainbow.
Sometimes things are messy.
Embrace it.
Don’t be afraid to make a splash.

Your words and ideas
and your flesh and your bone
are what make you a human,
and you're not alone
if your heart pumps your blood
and keeps right on beating
and your mind is awake,
if you keep on repeating
your purpose
and goals
and give effort and care
you can find your own someone
who cares if you're there.

You don't have to be perfect,
you are good enough,
and experiences that formed you,
be they smooth or rough
aren't something you can change,
so there's no use repeating
the hurt, and though pain isn't fleeting,
nor is love
or commitment
or memories of good times,
so express them, in stories,
in words that make rhymes,
and however it is that you explain who you are
just remember you choose to let down your guard
to make your life meaningful
and purposeful
and true,
these can be your new memories,

but it's all up to you.

There's nothing that’s worse than the lies in the laughter.

The falsity,
And wondering what they're really after.

With each passing person,

In each passing face,
I look for the passion--
The joy,

But just…space.



It's a place of decisions and choices of life,

But no one will notice the hurt or the strife
When you're dying inside,

Writhing and churning.
Nobody's perfect is a hard lesson, learning
Patience
And sorting the real from the fake,

What questions pass through your mind when you take every breath
And each moment,

Is it true all along,

The people that tell you what's right and what’s wrong,

Might just be acting like they have your back,

When behind it they talk about things that you lack?



It's a place we call high school,

But the things that we learn

Aren't just science or math,

And we each take our turn

Discovering what happens

When you cross that line,

Acting like you're okay,

And maybe you're fine.

But if you put up that front

And let nobody in,

You'll have only your thoughts

And you know you'll give in

When your mind and your eyes say

You're not good enough

And your heart has to deal,

Well believe me, it's rough.


Feeling people assess you,

Deciding your worth

When you've only wanted to impress them since birth



Don't try to tell me who I am,

You don't know me.

And don't just say that you'll be there,

Show me.

Don't be upset that I don't just take your word,

You have no idea the lies that I've heard.



Life is messy, and ******,

And always a test

To see who's really there,

And the feeling’s the best

Finding someone that knows you,

Can read you so well--

An island of sanity

In an ocean of hell.



We all need a relief

From the weight that we carry

On our backs,
In our minds,

As we learn how to bury

Emotions and tension and failures and worry,

As we go through the motions,

Wrapped up in our hurry

To decide and succeed,

To get out and move on,

But regrets won't just leave us

Like time does when it's gone.



And it's funny how we contemplate

When we can't sleep at night,

So at war with ourselves,

Are we doing it right?

But the fight's not one sided,

At times it all seems to be us,

Against each other,

Against our future and dreams.



With the world as our oyster,

And so many fish in the sea,

We learn heartache and jealousy 
and greed all come free.

Fairness is *******,

But to live with yourself

You must make the decisions

That provide you with wealth--

Not in money or things,

But in love and compassion.

Because we all live to find fulfillment,

Through success and through passion.

And at the end of the day,

You won't be able to take it

If your wallet is full,

But your soul is just vacant.



We must think for ourselves,

Not just do what we're told.

Take a chance,
Cross our fingers,

And dare to be bold.

We will get through these years

Of struggle and strife,

Using lessons as lifeboats

In our voyage through life.