june 10, 2014*

his eyes are like grey marbles,
sprinkled with green ivy.
his hair is like sunkissed ocean waves ,
his hands are tsunamis.
he's beautiful and dangerous,
his hands leave the ocean screaming;
his voice ***** like the water hitting the shore
-it acts as a nerve, 'cause I can't help but smile.

when he sings he sings out of tune,
but even still the birds are in awe;

how can something so disastrous be so beautiful?
how can something so right be so wrong?

(NJ2014) all rights reserved.

Sometimes your eyes were leaves of ivy;
they poisoned my brain,
but not my heart.

Other times they were skies of blue,
and I was an airplane looking for a cloud to pass through.

I could've loved you given the chance,
but seasons keep changing and we don't.

It's autumn and my arms can no longer be the branches
that keep you from falling -I'm getting tired.
And the cloudless sky has turned grey,
and everything is foggy.

Like the ground that holds on to fallen leaves,
letting you go will be difficult,
but like poison ivy,
I'll soon heal.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

I want to believe you,
but I don't.
I want to hold you,
but I can't.
I want to kiss you,
but I won't.
I want to let you go,
but I've tried.

I'm a second chance that never comes,
but maybe, just for you, I'll stick around for the third.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

you're picture perfect,
and I'm working with negatives.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

he only makes me feel worthy
when his hands are gripped around my waist,
and his tongue is falling to their place.

he doesn't mind my messy hair
or my running makeup;
he tells me I'm pretty
while he stares at my body
dressed in lace.

he loves me as an obligation;
I'm second to the lust he wants to instill on my body;

I gave him all of me,
but all he wanted was the parts of me clothes hide.

NJ2016.

When I kiss you I will do so
with the intensity of all my bottled up sadness,
with the amount of desire
I have yet to give to all I want but cannot have,
with the hidden passion I have
for all that I am restrained from doing.
When I kiss you it will be soft and careful
like the pieces of me I hide,
and then I will gradually feed you all the anger
I’ve suppressed for the sake of others.

When I kiss you
it will be full of emotion.
When I kiss you
it will be for all reasons;
desire, anger, sadness and happiness

When I kiss you it will be for all reasons,
except love.

(NJ2014) © All Rights Reserved.

Spinning around his room,
walk to the mirror,
put on some red lipstick,
I feel great.

What's wrong with you?

What do you mean? I feel great!
Spinning around his room
without a care in the world.

Are you on drugs?

No silly, I just feel great!
Spinning around his room,
stumbling off balance.

What is wrong with you!?

I feel grea-
hands grab my wrist,
pull me from my spin,
light eyes turn dark
his stare in my eyes

What is wrong.

Next thing, I'm crying into my palms

it'll be alright,
and he holds me tight.

Hug me forever, don't let go.

I wont.

Hug me forever,
cause once you stop
I have to go.

And he lets go,
what does that mean?

I have to go,
I don't want to hurt to be happy,
I can't dance anymore,
this was our finale,
and this is the end of the show.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

Maybe the reason she flaunts herself
is not because she's confident,
but because her hourglass figure
fits nicely in his hands.

She feels secure when his fingers
move slowly from her ribs to her hips,
like the way wine racks keep glass bottles
from smashing to the ground.

She's fragile and transparent,
but he fills her with feeling,
and for that moment,
she doesn't feel empty;
she's vivd and colourful,
supplying liveliness.

Maybe she flaunts herself because
eyes turn glassy and watery,
and at least she can influence something.

Maybe she just hopes that one day he'll hold her
as tightly as he does that glass of wine.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

let's drink water out of wine-glasses
and pretend that airplanes are shooting stars.
let's count each passing minute
as another lucky moment spent together.

extravagance is a state-of-mind.

let me wear my thrift store ****-dress like an elegant ball gown,
and lead me to the grass-ballroom floor.

the grass stains will be proof that the night existed.
let's make dreaming reality, if only for the night.

i'm no cinderella, and the shoe may be the wrong size,
but your hand fits perfectly in mine, and we can still dance
barefoot on the grass floor,

-and that's perfectly alright.

-NJ2015 [all rights reserved]

The cigarette in your mouth burns away with the flame,
and you toss it to the ground once it's done
- but there's a little light still burning,
and to make sure it won't go ablaze.
you stomp on it until it's completely gone.

I was hooked on the way your hands handled me,
the way you could set me on fire with a simple touch of the mouth;
I was burning bright and you were satisfied -how could it be wrong.

Time grabbed you by the hand and took you away from me;
I was growing smaller and smaller with distance,
but from where I stood, I was the same.

You could no longer keep squinting to try to see me,
especially through the smoke of your cigarette.
You could not stand to see the light at the far end of the road,
nor tolerate the tiny, what seemed to be weakening, spark

and so you shut your eyes,
and tossed the cigarette aside.

The cigarette was still burning,
but not strong enough to set the road in flames
and bring you back.

(NJ2014) © All Rights Reserved.

I remember the honeymoon stage,
it wasn't as elaborate as many,
but I was enjoying it just as much.

I remember making plans,
asking you to come and hang out with friends,
and you said the weekends were for partying;
I remember our first argument.

"When the liquor calls, I follow."

You answer to the inaudible calling of liquor,
but barely respond to my texts,

and then you tell me I'm crazy
for saying you could never love me
the way you love the single life.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved.

If it wasn't raining, were we really together?
I remember sitting in the backseat of your dads car with you for hours because I was allergic to cats, and your house was the safe haven for two of them. We drew pictures on the condensed windows and watched them slowly fade, we teased your friends through text messages, you let me into your world, and I was intrigued. It was the first time you ever held me in your arms, and I never wanted to move.

The next time I saw you we walked around town and found ourselves following a little path by the water. Our rumbling stomachs spoke more than we did, and when we decided to get food, the sky decided that we were probably thirsty half-way there. It poured. We ran all the way to the Muscle Maker Grill in a storm only to find that it was closed. I remember laughing, I remember the, 'you've got to be kidding's' I remember settling for the little corner store all the way by your house. You bought me my favourite Italian Cookies, you got yourself a sandwich.. I remember you complaining about having to pick out the bread and give it to them because it was their job. I remember sitting on your front steps eating our "lunch." We talked about the squirrels, and how they do things they don't want to do. How though the squirrel wants the nut, he can't reach it, and he must leave it. We spoke about us in metaphors. You told me you wanted me back, you told me you could never do that. I told you I'd never stop trying.

I also remember the night you walked with me to my aunts house because I was too scared to walk alone. You told me that nothing would happen to me, and if anything were, we would go down together. You never made me feel wrong for being so nervous -you didn't understand, but you never made me feel bad. It rained on my way home that night.

The next time I saw you was a year later. Your house was knocked down and remodeled. Your cat had decided to make a home within your neighbors house during that period. I saw you dad outside, you saw me through the window - I was nervous. Sitting on your couch, I watched you connect the wireless music for your guardians -your aunt kept complimenting you, trying to get any sight reaction out of me to see what we actually were. I've never known what we were.

I remember the first time I went to dinner with you, your father, and your aunt at Green Dragon. I enjoyed it although they found my diet and my lack of appetite a little odd. And they asked me questions about college that I was a little nervous to answer. I remember the bought us gum, and then departed to the 99 cent store. They expected us to kiss. We didn't. I wanted to. I think. By the time they came back, the windows were drenched in raindrops.

Anyway, the day I went over your house was the day you let me leave carelessly. We spent hours together -talking at Strawberry Fields, walking down the little path, watching the ocean, making sandwiches in your kitchen, showing me around your house -visiting your bedroom. I will never forget how we hugged when saying goodbye and I said, "don't be a stranger," and you said "bye."

You told me you were indifferent about me -couldn't care whether or not we kept in touch. So I said goodbye. But I still think about you sometimes. You were the first boy I swore I loved, and maybe I have a different definition now, but by god, I loved you with my whole heart, even though through the years all you did was break it apart. It didn't rain that day.

I still miss you sometimes. Still wonder about you. And wonder if you wonder about me too. How is it that you held my heart and crushed it without even straining a muscle?

It doesn't rain much anymore in the dingy old town.
[NJ2015] All Rights Reserved.

don't run your hands all over my body
if you don't plan to run them over my heart.

don't tell me you enjoy my company
when you jump at any outing you're invited to
even while I'm in your arms.

don't tell me you find me interesting
when you cut off every chance I have of personal expression.
don't tell me you think I'm pretty
if you can only say it in pixels.
don't tell me you think I'm funny and smart
if you're only going to laugh at me when I'm being serious.

but most importantly,
don't kiss me goodbye on the forehead
if you're going to slam the door closed
before I even step down the stairs.

don't pretend to love me if you don't,
and I won't pretend that I don't feel like a stranger in your arms.

don't pretend to love me if you don't,
'cause I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy with 'us'
because I'm not.

I don't think this will last much longer.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

every-time we're in his room i forget to take my water-bottles along with me. if water-bottles were of any value, he would have a million dollar collection. he's the first boy i've ever made direct eye-contact with intentionally - i'm not sure if he's noticed, but it's become more of a synonym for 'kiss me please' than anything else. sometimes he catches the hint.

if i want his attention, all i have to do is pick up my phone -he seems to notice that even when his ears are deafened by the media on his laptop screen. i speak more with my eyes than my mouth - often my eyes will be closed if i'm disinterested; i'd rather create my own little world and enjoy it than destroy what he's enjoying at the moment. so i stay quiet. so i close my eyes. he thinks i fall asleep a lot.

when i want him to hold me i inch away, he always seems to pull me back in, and i never really say what i mean to, i just slow down my pronunciation. i run my fingers down his spine when i'm thinking about making out with him, and sometimes, i say 'i love you,' but like i said, i don't tend to speak much. i say it with my eyes. he never notices. i think i like it that way.


[NJ2015] [All Rights Reserved]

Im going way up, success higher than you'll ever be, tryna **** the pain, but babe, you're your biggest enemy. I tried to help you through it, tried to be your biggest fan, tried to hear the music, but the **** just wasn't there.

See, I couldn't get anywhere with your weight on top  -wait you were always on the bottom -oops, I forgot, we're talking about your pride and your selfish ways -I was a ******* angel living in your hellish daze.

Don't get me wrong, I loved you from the very start, but the best thing you've ever done for me was "break" this heart. You shot me where it hurts, left me bleeding out, and now you 'bout to feel that kickback while I resurrect.

Stronger than ever, broken but rising like the sun, everything I'm doing is leading me to number 1. I thought you was protecting me, but you were holding me back. I could've loved you for ever, thanks for saving me from that.

I want to thank you for all that you've done to me cause now I know what I need. I know what I need. I love who you used to be, and now you're no good to me. so, i'm gone.

NJ2016

Don't you understand? I'm the careful girl who sets her alarm three hours early to guarantee she won't be late. I'm the girl who's scared to use boxed hair dye because there's that one percent chance of a fatal reaction. I'm the girl who gets sick every morning because anxiety tells me that I "might mess up something today." I'm the girl who reads the fine print, the terms and conditions, because one time I didn't, and I got hurt.

You're the boy who see's terms and conditions as guidelines. The boy who drinks every-night because though it's drowning your liver, it's also helping to haze your vision to the flipping pages of the calendar. The day's won't slow down, but your comprehension of it can -and you can live each-night like it's endless. It's harmful comfort has you addicted. A lazy Sunday night is a day wasted; responsibility and real life has never left you feeling as triumphant as that seventh shot of *****. You welcome chaos because it keeps your mind from straying.

Recklessness has a fault, and it's love. Your heart is a liquor bottle that was indulged and tossed to the side by girls too drunk to understand that glass breaks. And glass cuts.

I always read ingredients before I consume, but my tired eyes skimmed, and my heavy heart begged, and so I downed a glass of you. So now here I am, the careful girl, and here you are, the reckless boy, caught in one world that's both hazy and precise.

I'm trying to handle you with care. but you're screaming that there may not be a tomorrow. I've read your terms and conditions. but experience and knowledge are two separate things my naive brain hadn't yet learned at the time. There's more to words than bold letters -there's more to you than bottles and messy hair.

There's a careful girl holding a full bottle of fine wine deciding whether or not to open and down it, or place it in a cabinet to gain value. Thinking that maybe a few sips wouldn't hurt. And who knows if they did? She can't remember.

[NJ2016] All Rights Reserved.

these four walls know me better than anyone
and have learned how to tear me down
while standing tall.

i wish i could blame my troubles on this concrete prison,
but it's my skin that has held me captive all these years.
My throat aching with screams that have failed to escape,
my lungs heaving from the sobs i've tried to quiet,
and my hands shaking, scarred.

they say life is what you make it,
but they never tell you how to make it reality.
now i'm being torn apart by forces of who i am
and who the world wants me to be.

when i'm wrapped in my seemingly comfortable blankets,
nobody seems to realize that it's devouring me;
there's a tornado raging inside me,
but all they see is fumbled sheets.

i'm in the purgatory of reality and dreams,
and lately, it all just feels like a nightmare.

[N.J.2015] All Rights Reserved.

The love is gone, right? There's no chance we'll ever get back together? Because I can't be here halfway. I can't look at you and not see the boy I fell in love with -the boy who's hands shake constantly, the boy who pulled me closer in bed, the boy who whispered unrepeatable things in my ears. I can't look at you and forget that -I can't see you as just another person. How could you look at me knowing that what was once yours isn't anymore; that the body you once ran your hands all over is off limits, that the words 'i love you' will no longer spill out of my mouth for you. How can you be okay with that? Because I'm not, and I wish I was, but I'm not. Because I ******* love you more than I have ever loved anybody, and I can't flip a switch and bring back only the part of you that was my best-friend. Even though I miss that part of you too. I wish I could be satisfied with part of you, but I can't forget that I had all of you at one time. I can't be satisfied with half of you when once I had all of you. And it hurts, and it *****, because I want you in my life but it hurts. Sometimes I wish we never fell in love because I would have my best friend right now. Maybe that's all we ever should've been, and we ruined it. And I can't forgive myself. Because here I am caught between two extremes of having to let you go and not being able to, and knowing whatever choice I make is going to send me screaming to the sky, clutching my chest, and curled on the floor in a pain that will never fully heal.

Suitcases of the past flooding from my closet
burying you beneath it;
I am sorry.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

your smoke lingers on my clothes longer than you linger in my life,
and I cannot rinse, wash, and repeat the cleaning process
to rid the stain of you from my mind as I can the stench of your cigarettes.

the first time I met you I mixed the harsh colour of you
with my white dedicates -and now I wear a cloudy grey.
my eyes have been washed out so many times
they're a new shade of brown I've never seen before.

I can't tumble dry the stained marble of my eyes
and I can't fold my sanity as neatly as I can my shirt;
and I can't put you at the back of my closest until I forget you exist.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

For five years you were the weight on my shoulders,
the blindfold over my eyes, and the holder of my heart.
Today you are nothing -we are strangers.
Do you ever think about me?

Sometimes I feel like it never happened,
You and I feel like a distant dream.
I don't think I ever truly knew you.
I can't even imagine a time with you anymore;
it all seems like a figment of my imagination.

The day we ran all the way to the restaurant in the pouring rain,
just to find out they were closed.
The day I leaned on your shoulder,
and we fogged up your father's car windows.
The day you held me for the first time.
It all seems like some faint memory of an old movie.

Remember the story of the bird we created?
How we spoke vicariously through the innocent bird
hiding under the tree to shelter itself from the storm?
I don't quite remember anything
except it was significant at one point.

I used to remember it so vividly.
Our memories are fading.
Does that scare you?
I'm not sure how I feel about it.

This may be a different story,
but I feel like I was a bird,
and you were a birdhouse with the door locked,
I'm glad I eventually found the strength to fly away.

Do you ever run your fingers over the scratches I left,
or have you refurnished over them?

So why do I tell you I miss you,
when I feel nothing at all?
And why does it hurt
when you don't respond?

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

bruises like clouds after sunset,
heart like ice after it's been counter set,
fingers like branches in a hurricane,
eyes like condensing windows in the rain.

one beat, two beat, two beat, two beat,
can't count to three,
my mouth is weak.
can't stop shivering,
trying to speak.

my head is screaming,
and my arms are outreached,
but my voice has broken,
and their palms are in fists.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

he puts on slow music and leads me off the bed,
spinning me into his arms and dancing into a waltz;
we're wandering around the whole room;
my head on his shoulder, his hands on my waist;
and we're dancing the night away.

if it's not like the movies,
they say to let a love go;
but with choreography like us,
that film would surely fall apart;

but it felt like a movie;
the way he held me,
the way he looked at me,
the way he
                   cut scene.

All Rights Reserved. [NJ2015]

All the weight that once rested on my shoulders
dissipated into the air and was swallowed into my lungs.
My heart still beats, but not without struggle;
it pounds beneath the weight of my regrets.

I never should've let you get so close.
You searched me like a cop in the night,
shining your light on cob-webbed feelings,
and broken down fantasies.

You cleaned me up in hopes to find something,
beneath the law you cannot speak details
and I never knew what it was you were searching for,
but either you found it, or did not,
and never needed to come back again.

You were always a bit messy;
you left fingerprints on my skin,
and evidence in the form of thoughts;
you breathed life into my heaving chest,
only to take with you the rest of the air
I needed to get back on track.

Now I'm covered with yellow and black tape
labeled endlessly with the words 'crime scene,'
and I'm not even putting up a fight.

(NJ2014) © All Rights Reserved.

the doctor smells the smoke on my clothes,
'i thought you didn't smoke'
i don't, but he lingers.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved

he comes to me at three in the morning,
my hair a mess, my feet in slippers,
my attire dingy, but my eyes sparkling.

drunk and tired, hiding behind a tree
so my father won't see; he holds me;
light drizzle and cigarette smoke,
hazy eyes and alcohol breath;
trying to make the best of it.

he's no romeo, and i'm no juliet;
but my parents are Capulets
and he's the dangerous boy
involved with their princess.

sitting beneath a tree
at three in the morning,
no place i'd rather be;

he's no romeo,
but he's all i need.

All Rights Reserved (NJ2015)

back in school, my geometry teacher told me that lines are infinite;
that though it may stop on paper, it truly continues on.
he taught me that a circle has no end, but it has no start;
it's not infinite, but confined to the infinitcy of it's own space.

it was only a few months, but it felt like years
they way he and I continued straight down the path;
it felt as if we were walking in circles;
kissing, hugging, fighting, teasing
month after month after month
but we were truly walking on the line
endlessly, straight into nothing.

how can we be both the endless line and the confining circle?
I never wanted to become a geometric equation;
but I'm doing the math, and quite frankly,
he and I are just a miscalculation; a mistake.

All Rights Reserved.
[Copyright NJ2015]

lately my life seems to be a picasso painting,
everything blue, but everything's beautiful,
my mind is a jumble of geometric shapes
that nobody seems to want to take the time to rearrange.
I'm playing a song on my acoustic guitar,
but nobody wants to hear me sing.

Your eyes are beautiful landscapes,
though I see cracks that sprout through them like vines;
it seems as if you've planted roses in the spring,
and come winter you've had nothing but fallen petals to hold.

Your hands are shaking from the intensity to preserve
what is not there anymore, to hold what once filled your skies;
like rolling clouds of thunder; something sharp, something heavy,
disappearing as the sun begins to rise.

I've found myself standing at the archway of your garden,
my hands are calloused and my arms are weak;
I can't promise to be the rain and wash away the remains,
but if you would let me try,
I would love to plant puruvian lilies (they rarely wither)
and help again brighten the garden I call your eyes.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

Each time I see you,
you're a new you.

Unfortunately,
that is true.

Never will you meet someone like me,
I'm many people distinctively.
I change my mind all the time,
one night I'll be fine,
in the morning I'll be a crime scene.

My preferences changes endlessly,
one day I want something,
the next it wont mean a thing to me.

Does that scare you?
Well, don't let it.

'Cause through all my changes,
you're the one thing that remains the same;
I'll always prefer you.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

i guess it says something about me
that every-time my wii reads 'there was an error'
my heart starts racing and anxiety invades my being.

the thing with self-improvement is that they teach you when you're young to never give up; to never be satisfied. they tell you to always strive for more. but they forget to apply the, "too much of a good thing can be a bad thing" rule before it's too late.

i've lost hours, and broken strings, and bruised hands striving to be he best. i've fallen, i've cried myself to sleep, i've changed my hair color, trying to be the best. i've spent so many years of my life trying to find me only to feel more lost than i have ever been.

now he love's me for someone i'm not
and he can't understand it when i tell him he doesn't love me
'cause he swears he does.

funny how the thing that frightens me is what i have become.

NJ2016 All Rights Reserved.

I'M TRYING TO BE ART
BUT MY CANVAS IS WHITE
AND THIS PAINT IS WHITE
AND I KEEP PAINTING
BUT EACH STROKE
LEAVES ME FEELING
MORE B L A N K.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

im broken down,
im looking for a way out,
but the only way out
is buried beneath the ground,

im so sorry you,
you got stuck in my story,
ill stop writing your name down,
and you can rip the rest out

i never meant to hurt you,
i never meant to cry,
i never meant to blame you,
but i get so lost sometimes

i never meant to drive you crazy,
i'm trying so hard, but i think im losing you baby
how do i keep this from falling,
when one columns is nearly broken,
i wish you'd stay around darling,
but I'm dragging you down,

i didn't mean to complicate everything,
but i have some issues that drive me insane
i really like you, but i dont want to hurt you
when something is good, i tend to push it away.

i like laying around with you,
and the way it's hard to read you,
(but sometimes i wish i knew a little more.)

I like the way you close your eyes
when you're enjoying the moment,
but i wish with me you'd close your eyes a bit more

can you be patient with me,
i wish you'd stay.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved.

You're a locked door with the sign 'do not enter,'
but there are duplicates of the key you lent out once.
The sky becomes a blanket, and the sun is no longer out;
and strangers come through the door -gone by morning.

There's only so much company that can be found in an empty bottle,
so you make it two empty bottles, and grab an empty hand
and dance under the flawed moon,
and like an hourglass fall slowly into familiarity
-by morning you're left with the same empty feeling
(and a terrible headache.)

They come waltzing in uninvited,
friends of the unconscious mind,
and enemies to the sober.

You're a locked door with the sign 'do not enter,'
if I was offered the key I would not take it.
I patiently knock.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

I’m the happiest person in the world
but also the saddest
and so I make a fool of myself
and then regret it after it wears off.

- it's like being drunk and having a hangover at the same time
and god, help me, I'm about to burst into tears
at the same time as wanting to dance around in circles
I'm losing my mind.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

You wore a wrinkled white shirt and distressed jeans,
your bed-head blonde hair and pink eyes screamed exhaustion;
your eyes as hazy from last nights liquor as the hanging morning dew.
but there I was stumbling over speed bumps
while you effortlessly lit a cigarette and walked on by without a problem.

Each time I stumbled, you laughed
- would you continue to if you knew it was because I was nervous?
Or did you find it humourous
that I was tripping over something stable
(you're not stable, but by god, you could fool anybody.)

There we were.
a slightly drunk, lazily dressed boy -looking gorgeous and collected
and a completely sober, lazily dressed girl -a mess on feet
walking together over speed bumps
- maybe I should run.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

a work in progress.

A year ago, I could’ve sworn that I loved a boy so much I would do anything for him. Today, I’m not sure I have ever loved anyone at all, and if it’s any comfort, to you at all, you’ve helped me with that.

He was the kind of guy who would listen to me speak, or at least pretend to. He would find out what made my eyes brighten. He made me feel like the Northern Star, which was kind of a big deal considering my body was the endless night that I seemed to get lost in time and time again. Today, I realize the problem is that he never knew what stars looked like, sure, he had an idea, but he had never seen one, and to be quite honest, neither had I, or have I for that matter. Living in the city has its perks, but being able to see the stars isn’t one of them. They say the city never sleeps, neither did he, and neither did the polluting lights of the 24 hours casinos and clubs. I may have felt like a star, but looking back, I was only the reflecting glass of a strobe light.

I never thought I’d be strong enough to let him go, but after five years, I did. I have you to thank for that. There’s only so many times you can look at an airplane and convince yourself that it’s a shooting star. Like the Big Apple, I can say I’ve moved on.

You’re the first boy I’ve ever touched, kissed, embraced. You’re the sun that rose after a long night of me screaming into my pillow that it was the end, and that I would never wake up from a certain reoccurring nightmare. I never thought I would see light sprinkle through my curtains, never thought I would emotionally attach myself to another airplane embodiment again.

People are inconsistent; nothing ever remains the same, nor does it ever stay in one place, and I had sworn the moment I left the city that I would never again settle. I guess I didn’t realize that boarding endless airplanes had strapped me to the sky. I was still tied down, just differently.

The moment I met you, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time. The way your blonde hair fell over half of your forehead, how you walked into the gymnasium with a sort of ‘i can care less’ attitude. I don’t know what it was, but I knew you were an adventure I just had to attempt.

Each adventure is different; you’re far different from the amateur astrologer I had left in the next state. He spent time making maps; trying to figure out my thought process; how to understand my constellations, and how to tear them apart. You were a painter; an artist; more interested in the curves and lines of my body, the hue of my eyes, the colour of my laughter amongst the rest of the crowd. You taught me how to use my tongue as a paintbrush, and my hands as blending tools; you placed your hand in mine and make me think that you and I were a blank canvas that we would construct together.

Months have taught me that art is never really finished. Our canvas is a mess of us; my distinctive colour against yours. I was always carving straight lines, while you were painting crooked lines. You and I are following different strokes, but your edges and my surface seem to create a picture unlike any other. They say art is something that can not be defined, and I am torn between trying to decide whether we’ve built a masterpiece or something that will end up hung on a parents refrigerator. But then again, what’s wrong with that?

He was an astronomer, you’re a painter, and I’m unsure. I’m not quite sure who I am; sometimes I feel like laying in the grass and taking a ride on Camelopardalis or sitting in the hammock of the Great Dipper; other days I feel like painting pink on lover’s cheeks, and digging my nails in the bare canvas. And some days, I want to do nothing but lay in my room and dream of a future that nobody seems to understand; what am I supposed to do when I see myself sitting under a countryside sky on a wooden porch holding the stained hands of a boy who I swore could never love me.

Maybe I’m not really the Northern Star. Maybe I’m not the Mona Lisa. But more than often it’s blind leading the blind, and I’m sorry. I’m not sure where my mind is anymore. I’m not sure of anything, except that my eyes are painted with your reflection. Maybe that’s art. Maybe, it’s not.

© NJ  2015, all rights reserved

My heart is heavy and all I can think about is dying.
I feel my arms shaking, my heart pounding, my head exploding,
but it's all in my mind

Nobody can tell that I'm experiencing a massacre inside.
Everyday another part of me dies. unnaturally
I can feel the gun being put to my chest,
it's threatening to tear me apart.

I'm in agonizing pain,
and people don't understand.
First-aid kits and words can't fix these wounds.

'I love you' is not a bandaid and I can't keep from bleeding out.

NR2016

You made me feel like I was just another girl,
I know you have notebooks full of rows and the details,
but I was hoping I would be the last of them
turns out I just ended the page and you flipped it to start again.

I never thought we would ever say goodbye,
I guess I was right because it ended with goodnight.

I never saw your eyes again
or held the hands you scarred me with
or wrapped myself in your arms,
or kissed the lips you'd breathe me in with,
you always teased me with it.

You smoked me out,
remains of an ashtray now.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

There were so many hues, I thought it was art.

The colours blended together
in a way I could never understand,
but the confusion and mystery intrigued me.

The frame; so well built, so beautiful;
strong, and carved so uniquely;
bridges and bumps, cracks and dents;
ancient detail and scars.

My eyes wander,
drifting aimlessly,
only to soon find myself lost;
thoughts in different directions.
Landscapes of green, blue, gold;
black starless skies,
and sunny mornings.

A picture framed on the wall,
but I don't feel a thing
if I can't touch.

I guess I was wrong.
I thought it was art.


(NJ2014) © All Rights Reserved.

Please don't walk away.
Understand, I wasn't always this way.
I have a haunting past,
and I would tell you about it but you have never asked.

My past is something I'd rather not discuss.
If you did ask my hands would probably start shaking,
my eyes would go blank, and my mouth mute.
I'd break the silence with "I don't know where to start,"
and "it's a story so long, I wouldn't want to bore you."

But if you're leaving because of something I do,
please don't go without hearing me through.
I've got issues of trust and anxious habits,
lungs of rust, and a heart to match it.

A high-voltage heart with one too many sparks;
someone once set it on fire, I'm too scared to restart.
At first my hands shake, and my heart pounds,
my words dissipate, and my eyes lock to the ground.
I can't move my feet, scared to fly off the ground;
I once rose so high, and fell onto the floor,
scratches and bruises, a concussion, I'm sure;
can't risk hitting the ocean, don't want a parting spark no more.

So before you leave please understand,
I'm not just an attic light that wont burn bright;
it may take time, but it's just a little dust,
I don't mind if you try to clean me up.


The door is wide open, but so are your arms,
if you want to leave, do as you want,
the outlet is empty, and so are your palms;
plug me in before you throw away the key;

plug me in before you leave,
but before you do so, please,
dry your hands.

Give me a chance.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

he woke me up and said, 'you're always tired,'
said that i always fall asleep when i'm with him;
and i argued and said i just rest my eyes;
but truth is his arms are more like blankets to me
than my own sheets.

his chest carries a beating heart
and it's more comforting to fall asleep to that
than to the sound of bickering between hard-headed family members.
his laughter, usually mixed with the sound of anime,
or the narrator of YouTube's 'Watch Mojo' series, is my lullaby,
and the way his hands run through my hair
help rock my nervous mind to sleep.

but i tell him i'm resting my eyes,
because i can't tell him that he's my lullaby,
i can't tell him he's my refuge from a long day;
i can't tell him that when i'm with him,
i feel satisfied to just end my day.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved.

trying to figure out what my head thinks,
my hands are searching for something to hold on to,
my feet skimming water hoping for solid ground,
but it seems the only branch to keep from drowning
is being weathered by the tide.

the one thing that can save me is destroying himself,
broken from the whole of him that i never have known;
you can pick a flower and admire it's beauty,
keep it in a vase and try to keep it in your presence,
but you will never see the way it's roots were planted,
and you cannot keep what once was from wilting;
even if you constantly take care of it.

once upon a time i was walking through hills,
now i'm running through forests,
gasping for air, holding my chest;
and it's ironic because amongst the trees
is the most oxygen one can breathe;
but i'm lost, i'm drowning, i'm screaming;

how can i save you,
i can't even save me.

All Rights Reserved (NJ2015)

i took him to a rooftop NYC skyline dinner,
told him it was an all you can eat,
and he did.

and he took me to a fast food restaurant,
and said, "hey, you're a penny short."

NR2015

to the boy who currently holds my heart,

your past lover;
she will always love you in a way that i can't.
and for that, i envy her.

NJ2015 All Rights Reserved.

I discovered that the sunrise is almost more beautiful than the sunset;
the colours are so vivid, so expressive in comparison to the black night;
the sunset changes the colour of the sky, the sunrise invents colours.

More often than usual I catch the sunsetting rather than rising;
the early hours of the rising sun are the setting time of my eyelids,
- but by god, when I am awake to see it, I'm lost for a moment.

I have a history of comparing past lovers to sunsets;
each one I described as beautiful, breath-taking,
and unfortunately, each has been buried behind mountains as well.

I wait for a love that'll have me singing with the birds at six in the morning, that'll have me peacefully resting before the clock strikes twelve - I wait for the boy that I compare to sunsets, the boy that will no longer just be a metaphor for the setting sun, but the true sun.

The boy that will be the sun, both setting and rising.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

i want a love like the movies,
or at least a love that i can feel.

pixels shouldn't make me feel more
than you do.

NJ2015 [all rights reserved]

Mr. Stephen Glass,

i understand now,
you wrote to escape,
you tried to convince yourself it could be real,
by convincing everyone else that it was too.
it's okay to disappear into your own world,
it's okay to try and make your dream reality.
it wasn't deception, it was real to you,
and it would've been real to them if they believed,
it would've been real if they kept steady perception.

Mr. Glass,
I learned the hard way too.
reality has left me stranded me as well.
I understand.

Mr. Glass,
have you found a way to live with yourself again?
I'm in the purgatory of reality and dreams,
I don't know where to fall, I'm already shattered.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

life's a mess, and I'm a wreck.
it's great when you're by my side,
but it get's lonely at night.
I'm having conversations in my head
and they never spill from my mouth,
and I wish I could just tell you them all,
but I'm a wreck and my life's a mess,
and I still want to keep you around.

but when the moon is out,
my mood is down,
and I really wish you were here right now.

quiet my head, quiet my head,
when I'm with you there's no sounds.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

lately i've been falling asleep with the tv on, when about a month ago even the slightest bit of light kept me awake. days spent with you have molded me into something i haven't quite figured out yet.

like sedimentary, maybe this confusion will just erode away. or maybe i've permanently metamorphasized into something new.

all i know for sure is that i'm feeling a way i have never felt before. i can't determine whether the feeling is good or not. and i can't promise that it's not dangerous or fatal. i can't promise you that the thought of 'us' is stable. but i try not to think about it. please don't think about it.

i fall asleep now to the chatter of the television. it quiets my mind. i used to find comfort in silence, but now it just screams at me. ironic isn't it? how i turn the sound up to find quiet.

i don't stay awake with my thoughts anymore. they wake me up in the form of nightmares from time to time. i could never escape anything. not even my mind. i won't escape you. tell me that's fine.

no, don't talk. please, change the channel.

[NJ2015] All Rights Reserved.