That extra place setting is starting to make an impression on my guests.
without asking they know i'm full of hope that one day you'll change your mind, and come home to me with your bags
acting as though nothing has changed
i'd pick up old habits and impress you with familiar words-
making you feel comfortable in your own skin.

Evidently I am writing to you again and hoping you will
Never receive this letter, but
Something that is also very apparent is that I have a hard time
Keeping to myself the words that pour from me, and do you want to
Know why? Because, I have lost too many people and have witnessed people
Lose loved ones- last words are crucial, so I make a point to speak my
Mind as soon as the words come to mind; because no one knows when
Someone's last breathe will be.
I want the people I love to know that I love them.
I want you to know that I loved you and still do, and will continue to as long
As I live.
You were my first and you gave me so much more than anything physical could attest to.
My first nervous text
My first heart shaped pizza
My first meal cooked together (sorta)
My first valentine's day celebrated right
My first hammock kiss
My first walk in the river fiasco
My first period guide
My first, "you get to meet my whole family, are you ready?"
My first realization that, "wow, he truly loves me."

I know what you are thinking. These things are pretty ordinary, and
Somewhat lame; but I loved this boy with every bone in my body and
I will write about it until it goes out of style because I have not experienced
Anything like it since, and I am starting to believe that is why it's called
Magic.

I have found a new home - within myself
If I am sad, I only have myself to blame
If I am angry, I find the problem on my own to resolve it fully
and, If I am happy, I turn to look inside myself and into the sky for thanks-giving.
For it has taken many years but I have conquered the quest for someone to fill my gaps.
I now leave the broken parts of me broken, so that my light can pour into the darkness of the world and bring happiness to those still searching for their missing pieces.
In hopes that they soon realize their broken parts are what make them somewhat whole.
Let your light seep, let it overflow.
Find the joy in making peace with yourself.

My future just dialed in with terrible news
the world was ending and there was nothing I could do
and I was shocked to find it was not because you left,
it was not jesus coming back to name my sins
the answer to this question, and many more, is inside each individual
like a philosopher, I often peel back surface layers in hopes there is something beneath what I fear most, I  think about the past and future as if an oracle put me to it-
I scan, ponder and reminisce on all of the mysteries I have unfolded and the ones awaiting me
to believe there is something better beyond my knowledge limits my willingness to adventure
I must find the better, the good of it all, and let it devour me-
I must crawl into the depths of the volcanoes and stay with the sacrificed,
I must give my enemies a piece of myself to feel whole again.

One must test limits to know where they stand in relation to who they will become.
-Every answer can be answered with a simple self examination.

My dad warned me about you. He told me he could see the love taking over my eyes and entering through my pores and I never thought twice. I told him you were different, that we were different and this love would bring me to my knees- Now I am finding it within myself to look at you with no feeling, to wipe away your face from my memory- even forgetting you as a friend. This is hurt, and it is real.
Closure comes in all different forms at different times-
The first was painless, I had someone, and the blame fell on you for not living up to the ridiculous standards set by my mouth when my eyes went blind to the influences that surrounded me, screaming into my ears and beating at the doors leading to my heart. I was confused.
I was scared I was missing out on better love, later finding out that love was not mine, but someone else's who was patiently waiting.
Who was I to toy with your emotions and mind- you gave me everything and more and I gave you a maybe-
A maybe that kept you begging, while I was turning away, dismissing you and the sweet words you spoke for me.
I was blind to your love, I took it for granted when given the opportunity to try something new, and even though this not so poetic mass of words will never find its way to you I want you to know i'm sorry.
I am sorry for not being your backbone in your time of need
I am sorry for not kissing you more
I am sorry for not going out of my way to see you everyday, because I wanted to, believe me.
I am sorry for pushing you away when I needed you the most
and, I am sorry for not giving you every ounce of love my heart produced, for even then you would deserve more.
I am in no way selling myself short so do not take this as a pity party, I am simply recognizing the fact that I never appreciated what I had in my hands when I held your hand, or what I stared at when I found myself dancing in your big brown eyes,
or more importantly, what I felt when your soft kisses and gentle hugs seemed to comfort me when nothing else could.
I guess this is what people call closure

Take my hand and let me take you back to a time when
Time did not matter, when one second was replaceable with the next-
Easter Sunday, making mud pies in our little Purple dresses,
back to making junk into something fictional
And believing in everything make believe.
We climbed castles, discovered bigfoot, found our prince
All in a matter of seconds- and we never ran out of time.

Time- a matter of perception
Quick sand, sleep, death.
There are many things to slow down this barrier to living,
But nothing to make it go, to make it tangible.

If we were to place time on a scale it would measure into
A timeline of dinosaurs and hieroglyphics, of disasters and
The great discoveries of the ocean's depths- however, I am
Speaking of time as an emotional blip.

To measure time as we do our emotions takes away from
Our perception of that blip- of irretrievable time unaccounted for.
We must make time our foundation to understand it will always be there.
It is what you make of that time, how you allow that
Blip to affect you, that makes moments into concrete memories

We are raised with the idea that we are wasting time. That everything we do will count towards something much greater than one could ever imagine. But when you are focusing so much on the idea of creating time worth living, you are not living. A vicious cycle of trying to make your time count when the time you should be counting is the time wasted. Live simply and love hard. Throw yourself into the new, sink your teeth into something sweet. Feel the rush of being alive in the moment. Don't count the days, let them happen and make do with the time allotted.

To give or to give up;  that is the question
To give all one has with uncertainty lurking
To feel the dread and guilt of a being
And do nothing with these feelings,
Or to end all current affairs
To love, to sulk,
But whatever do, do greatly
Crossroads between head and Heart
Who has that ability to identify between
The two, not I
To love, to sulk,
To love- perhaps feelings could rearrange
But to what extent? Giving fully requires
No mixed emotion, certainty, and what
We may not see; something so undefined
We are all missing a piece of who we
Used to be, That “piece” being a person
At times, learning not to let one define
Another but lessons do not stick,
Leaving one remembering what could be
What could be? If thoughts could ****
Leaving your heart aching and restless
Who would hurt more if feelings were
Turned to actions, the giver or taker
One being left with confusion and disbelief
Not knowing forever could end so soon
Another being sorrowful but keeping
The  head high, away from the waters
Made from tears of past mistakes,
Oh the recurrence
When asking one’s self to give or
Not to give keep in mind one thing,
You live for you and no one else
If you feel, act; whether it comes
From the head or heart, feelings
Are feeling that should not be untouched

People will tell you what to say, and tell you what to do
But when it comes to feeling- that choice is up to you
The demons within me from past events turned cold give
A twist to this exterior of gold.
See things are not always rays of sun seeping through my skin
I have been burned from second hand sin- and although this
Baggage is a lot to unpack, when laid out in sight it portrays who
I really am.
I am the daughter of an addict, and a victim of assault but these things, they
Have made me, built and sculpted from head to toe and have planted
The roots that never fail to grow-
I never once thought that a bad seed would sprout something new, but
I was proved wrong as I watched how I grew.
And as I grew, I witnessed from the inside looking out that the things from the
Past cannot define you unless you give them the power to,
We are all victims of a crime, but how would that end, if we all took
Our hand and chopped it off instead?
We must not blame ourselves for what we cannot control, but give credit
Where it is due and thank yourself for making it through-
These darkened days that some call home, because not everyone
Makes it out to say- I am stronger than I was before.

Almost a year ago we met
strangers - horrific pasts
it has been destructive since the beginning
lies and hidden meanings
but my love for you has only grown, not at all affected by all of the damage
it is true, so much can change in a year, although it is sometimes not the year, but the person who causes change.
Almost like the seasons are caused by the tilt of the earth on its axis.
Deep in my bones I felt what you could do to me, I kept my distance but your charm captivated me
Your charm that was charmed with other charms
You were a lie, and I am sorry for not realizing this sooner
You made me destroy everything we had, how you ask?
You made me love you, you gave me every reason to love you but many reasons to resent you

I admire your name as if I wear it like a chain around my neck
I speak your name as if you pulled out of me the answers everyone
Had been searching for-
Is it psychically possible for you to be my other half without actually
Being mine?
I will never know the answer to many things- crossword puzzles, history exams,
Why addiction takes over the vulnerable; but with you, answers come spewing out of me
And often times the only option I have is to display them poetically.
For everyone to see but you
The first time we masked each other with each other's scent I was far from the truth- easily forgetting your name along with the way you made my whole body collapse, with a simple touch.
So long after I thought you had disappeared, you return
and my head- instantly filled with memories of you.
Awkward encounters, blushed cheeks and nervous hellos that made you irresistible.
If this dream of mine that you so favorably take part in vanishes with the alarming sound of reality I will so dearly hold these memories in mind and keep them to remind myself of someone who made me feel like the sun.

We are all used books-
A little warn- our pages
Sometimes torn, or frayed
Around the edges. Coffee stains,
Lipstick stains, and other various
markings covering words the new
Keepers of these books will never
Get to read. Annotations fill the sides,
Streaky highlighter runs over
Quotes that resonated with the reader
Who came before the last. Tabs and
Folded corners call attention to
Metaphors, riddles- everything
That needs analyzation and
Clarification.
We are passed down and handed out
Until we find a home at last- Someone who
still wants to read, what has
Already been read, many times before.

Before time could tell I was throwing coins into fountains, blowing the petals
Off of dandelions, and hopelessly ripping the petals off of the flowers I made
My bed in. I continuously gave my worries to the wind, quite literally, and made
Peace with nature so that she in return would offer me the gift of friendship,
Oh how important it is to become one with the ground you walk on and
Realize I am neither above nor below it- equal to all being and creatures.
Knowing my steps impact the ground much more than my wishful thinking
Of nature ever will.
The magic of nature is simply that.
The wind carrying the leaves, creating a mosaic-
The puddles of rain water and mud creating illusions of
Sink holes and sand boxes.
Children diving into their hand crafted mud pies.
Creating something out of nothing since the beginning of time, mother nature.

they tell me I break hearts and it doesn't hurt so is it really the truth?
I think there is something that cancels out the breaking- that thing being me. I am the knot of chain you call a necklace, I am a game with half of the pieces missing, a puzzle piece with bent corners. I tend to make the boys swoon with a swift use of the vocabulary I have been studying since the third grade.
I'm sorry,
I would bring a knife to a gun fight to prove that I am worthy of something. maybe. I hope I am.
I know the people I tend to love have a certain taste, an interesting demeanor that leaves me wanting more. but that more is never enough to last me
it quickly runs out, and my attention is turned elsewhere.
from the outside looking in I would have to believe by now my heart is very small, and in its state now would be of tremendous value. I have given so much to the winds that I have very little left to spare. I give and retract in fear that someone will abuse what I place in their hands and I will turn to dandelion dust
just a quick wish blown into the wind to become again who I once was.

My sadness for you has been swept under the rug, for you are not the person I fell in love with last summer.
You are a new you
A new, *******, version of yourself.
So, I will not sulk. The you I knew is no longer there.
Maybe we will meet as strangers once again.

Scared that this feeling of being alone will linger longer than needed,
I am not awaiting a return, or a happy ending, no. I am hiding my hopes in my closet, and living my life without a purpose.
Without you I am me,
I have compared and pushed away, left without reasoning, and kissed without telling.
I have experienced and learned, I have grown out of the skin you left me with.
Big things are coming and although I wish you could see them taking place from a birds eye view, I know you are doing just fine without knowing anything of me, as am I of you.

tell me
does the high last long enough for you to come to your senses
do you regret scaring your body unintentionally,
by this you are reminded of what poison lives within you. What runs through your blood. What consumes you.
You have been drained of who you are, time escapes you and nothing is legible through heavy eyes
"why do you act that way?"
"i know mommy will say yes when her eyes are wide"
collapsing more times than you can count on fingers, but gripping those coins in your hand until knuckles turn purple, showing you have something to prove
so tell me, is it worth it?
is undergoing this immoderate pain of life worth destroying your body originally created out of nothing but good, pure substances.
once pricked is a long time forgotten
I will stand by you until knees weak
until your body is colder than ice, but let me remind you this
You love me, you swear you loved me, to love me, love me
..
Love is not the worst drug
Being possessed by something so evil that it changes your definition of love. That is the worst type of drug. insensibility - oblivion

i should be over you
i should be over the feelings you made me feel
the kind but deadly words you stuffed down my throat and made me believe
this feeling continues to linger without giving any subtle hints
you didn't love me
love does not come with so many sorry's
you talked and talked and thought no one would tell me
your idea of love sickens me and if i realize this i should be able to let you go right?
no
too many memories
the history between us will never fade
i love you to hate you