Sometimes I wish I was the kid in the corner,
blending in
but looking outside the lines
and if I ever strayed from
what's normal
I'd just disappear in
the blink of an eye
because
all we want is
to lay our hands on something real
and all I want is
to bare my soul to not conceal
looking-out, never looking in
Who I am,
Who I've always been.
Sometimes I wish I was the girl
everybody dreamed of
standing out not sticking in
and if I ever got sick of
what they wanted
I'd be just like a chrysalis
and shed this skin I've flaunted
for so many years
because all we want is
to lay our hands on something real
and all I want is
to be comfortable enough to heal
the scars,
this pain,
this cross around my neck
crucifying
all that I am
always looking out, never looking in
I know who you are
and who I've always been.
So, watch me as my walls
come caving in
I'm safe inside
I think I'll make it out alive
This time
I'm not perpendicular
I'm outside but
we're pretty similar
I've always known
Who you are
and who I really am
Inside, outside
I think I'll make it out....

I hear your music
from upstairs play
  in my mind.
My fingertips
brush against the cracks
  as I breathe a sigh
  of relief when the light
streams from my window
I imagine
the strings of a guitar
from downstairs
   on my kitchen floor
wondering how
I got this far.
Life's never been
kind
towards creative states
  of minds
but when I think
I've given up the chase
  I hear humming from
Upstairs,
and beating on a drum
if you took my pulse
  you'd feel my rapid
pulse against your thumb.
  Call me foolish
but I know what I love
and I won't be defeated
by the skeptical sum
  since downstairs
They don't hear what I do
or see the beauty of the rain
  Spilling music on our roof.
So, when I despair
  I listen for a sound from
   upstairs
   to inspire me
  to neve give up.

I can see the night
Sprawled across the sky
like you on the carpet
nose stuck in a book.
Up here
from my rooftop
I can count from this height
However many flicker
in the country
while you're sipping coffee
beneath street lights.
I wonder if
you're thinking about
Turning in too sleep
since early in the morning
you're off to face the world.
It's then I hold my breath
just for a moment,
To cease the notion
Of a girl
Trying to change
her stars.
Sometimes
the city isn't always
an exciting place to be.
It's kinder here with fireflies
and cedar smoke lulling
the honeybees to sleep.
So, if you know
what a shame it would be
to never see those stars
The ones
we thought were ours again.
if you could just
hold one in your palm
Maybe
your mind would change.
Because
alone in the dark,
They never look the same.

if it were so simple
to backspace myself
     into oblivion
              than
I’d have done it
long ago.
      where words
             and pills and
your boxcutter
would never hurt
     as much as
              living.

I wish I could be
Your type
and never feel the sting of looks
you give too  everyone but me.
How come it's so easy?
to fall?
every time
I hear your laughter
My heart races faster
before it halts.
You are my
one and only thought
but
I'll never get what I want
If I keep waiting around.
So, I'll pack myself
Inside this
little box
and place myself
in the corner of your closet
because
I'll never catch your eye,
no matter how hard I try
My love is just an old thing
you've outgrown.

Here it comes
the words
you want to say
but never do.
You hold them up
in your mouth.
That tongue's so red
of yours
Aren't you tired of
biting down.
So hard
on the harsh truth
You lose
like a poet
the right words
to choose
when you're rectifying
all the lying
but it's pretty when
You call me honey
And say, "it's nothing personal"
but I care for you
and I think about your face
when you say,
'Everything is fine,'
When nothing's going right.
Aren't you tired
of the blood
spat back in the sink?
How you think you're
On the brink
of discovering my secrets.
Just kiss me on the cheek
and whisper something sweet
in my ear
before saying things
I don't want to hear
I'll still listen
as long as the words
don't stop.

It's the taste of blackberries
on your lips
The bittersweetness of
not-quite-ripe fruit.
I cannot forget the
sentiment
from the brush
of your fingertips
against my chin
After picking berries
from
these bushes.
I can almost say:
that a memory as gentle
as your kiss
ignites a tenderness
inside me
and the thought that
love isn't so forceful
when subtle.