I can spend my whole life reaching for stars
only to be disappointed to find palms full of nothing but air,

As I grew up I learned that stars will never
provide me with the fuel I need to fill my lungs,
only air can do that.

But I still catch myself reaching for stars.
I still catch myself reaching for him sometimes,
even though there's no point.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

he told me I had pretty eyes
as his fingers crept under my shirt
and ran along my spine,

his palms ran across my lower back,
and forced my hips to the bed,
and he bit my neck and softly laughed,

and I laughed, and I smiled,
and I nuzzled my head in his neck
and I placed my fingers between his
and rubbed my thumb on the bone

and he stole glances at his phone,
making plans with his friends,
while I stole glances at our future
and ran a blank

but I dug my head into his neck and laughed
while he ran his fingers on my skin,

all I wanted was to fall asleep on his chest and hold his hand,
all he wanted was an adventure, and he was dragging me along
-and I willingly gave him the map.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

I DON'T KNOW IF I WANT TO BASH MY HEAD INTO A WALL OR MY HAND INTO YOUR CHEST. ALL I KNOW IS EVERYTHING IS SPINNING AND I CAN'T MAKE IT STOP AND I JUST WANT TO SIT IN A FIELD AND FEEL THE SUN ON MY HEAD BUT THE GROUND IS COVERED IN SNOW AND I'M SHIVERING IN THE COLD AND I DON'T KNOW IF I WANT TO BE WRAPPED IN A BLANKET OR IN YOUR ARMS. I DON'T KNOW IF I WANT TO BE BURIED BENEATH THE SNOW OR CRADLED IN YOUR WARMTH. YOU'RE HER FIREPLACE AND SHE KEEPS THROWING LOGS AND YOUR FLAMES KEEP GROWING. ITS BEYOND MY CONTROL. IM TRYING TO MAKE SMORES BUT THE FLAME IT GROWS. I'M SCARED TO GET BURNED. I'M SCARED TO GET BURNED.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

He's the boy with messy blonde hair and emerald eyes;
the kind that can make you blind after some time.
I wish I had known that before I made space for him
on the shelf I call my heart.
His hands were strong, yet gentle,
and they traced every curve
without leaving a mark.

I'm the girl with obviously styled hair, and brown eyes;
in time's company I'm a stranger -so I must always try
to look my best even when I want to cry.

I found myself holding this novel of a boy in my hands,
and quickly much too quickly fell into the pages;
excitement tore the corner of the sheet,
a scar formed on his nose,
and I joked with him
you can't forget me because I've made my mark.

But behind every light giggle there is a truth;
behind every highlighted sentence there is reason.

Here I am physically unscarred by this boy with emerald eyes,
but each night I find myself wondering why he left without a goodbye.
I could only hope that if I was unable to leave an impression
that maybe he will come across the bookmarked page,
the teared sheet and remember me.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

Don’t you understand? I’m the careful girl who sets her alarm three hours early to guarantee she wont be late, the girl who’s scared to use boxed hair dye because there’s that one percent chance of a fatal allergic 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 sees terms and conditions as guidelines. The boy who drinks every night because though its drowning your liver, its what you used to fill an emptiness that’s now addicted to it’s harmful comfort. You’re the boy who sees a party as a release from responsibility and real life, a lazy Sunday night as a day wasted. You’re the boy with messy hair, tired eyes, and a tired heart. You welcome chaos because it keeps your mind from straying.

Cause though you’re reckless, you never were with 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 i wasn’t thinking before i tasted 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 youre screaming that there may not be a tomorrow. I’ve read your terms and conditions, but disregarded the “more terms below,” and found there’s more to you than i thought.

this careful girl is dealing with a reckless boy with a careful heart and I’m not sure whether to place the wine in a cabinet, or just down the bottle.

All Rights Reserved. [NJ2015]

I'm trying real hard to keep this together but it's falling apart,
can't keep it from being severed,
but I'm hoping to keep you by my side at least just for the night
I'm trying to make you realize that I don't want this to be goodbye.

But I can't keep screaming at the moon
while she's screaming in your room,
while my bones are shaking cold,
she's found home within your arms.

So, I'm saying goodbye,
but I'm hoping you'll tell me please don't go.

I don't know why I keep trying to be right for you.
'cause we're from places worlds apart,
and we'll never see it through,
when I see you,

I'm hoping to keep you by my side.
I don't want to leave.
but you never told me,
don't go.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

i spent three years with a boy who claimed to love me, but tried changing me every chance he got.

he let it be known that his type were blondes, and foolishly enough I bleached my hair and broke my own heart trying to be his barbie doll. when I dyed my hair brown, he said it was pretty but you'd be prettier with black hair. I could have been the rainbow, and he'd say that the world is simply black and white.

I was an object to him, my virginity a flower he plucked knowing **** well that I would wilt the minute I was in his hands.

He forced me to watch him play video games on a daily -I wish I had realized that he always had the gun in his hand in these games; soon enough he would **** me.

-will be continued / my heart hurts too much to continue right now-

june 10, 2014*

my head in his lap,
his eyes gazing in mine,
playful fighting,

his finger runs down my arm,
and his arms wrap around me
keeping me captive -keeping me close,
his fingers interlock with mine,
and he opened the cage,
and let the butterflies roam free.

but his eyes are red,
and his breath smells of cigarettes and alcohol;
he could never love me as much as he loves life
when he is drowning by the bottle.

but god, he is beautiful.
and god, how much I'm going to hurt.

(NJ2014) all rights reserved.

My neck was patterned with lines of light pink
from the tight grasp of your hands;
you hovered over me, stared me in the eyes, and screamed
- your mouth tight, your eyes wide.

Your fingers fell south,
and your lips wandered over the pink stripes of my throat
-stinging under affection.
The irony of you kissing away the marks you've left.

The clock stopped, but the hour-hand in your eyes kept spinning,
and I could tell I was almost out of time.
Mental picture, mental note. Stares. Questions. Why?
No reason, no reason -but there was,
and I threw reality at your eyes.
broke the clock, and fast-forwarded to the goodbye before it was time.

Choke me again,
your hands are more comforting than this lack of air.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

I tell you that there are huge storms inside of me
and you always take out your umbrella like you're waiting for it to pass by.
The hurricanes are ripping through the feelings I have for you,
and the wind is making me deaf to your "sweet" words;
but still, under your ignorant shelter you sit.

I worry that you've come here only for vacation,
that the sunshine on the brochure that is me in public
has convinced you that you've found a great, temporary, place to lay.
But really, my waves will leave you drowning
and my mind will have you lost in a stranded place.
My hands will cause destruction,
and the earthquake I call my heart will shake your stable ground.

I worry that you lay on the beach of my calamity
but ignore my roaring waves.
I worry that you will soak up all of my sun,
and leave me shivering my my rain.

(NJ2014) ©All Rights Reserved

My eyes are nothing but foggy windows,
my body a door creaking beneath each strangers palm.
With honest hands, steady my shaking limbs before
emotions fall out of my eyes like autumn leaves.
Voice strong like an owl's call, but crisp air chokes,
leaving cries soft like a crickets song.

Tongue like a ballet dancer behind my lips,
searching for the right words to say.
Grab my waist and let's pirouette into words fallen.
Spin into worlds unknown,
Peter Pan promised I'd never grow old.

My eyes are foggy windows,
and you think you have,
but darling, you have seen nothing.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

I saw it coming-
footsteps leading out the door,
heart still in my hands.

(NJ2014) ©All Rights Reserved.

Have you ever wanted something so much,
you had no choice but to let it go?
The bird clings to the sky
and the sky provides the wind,
the flowers grow from the ground,
and the earth provides the soil;
I'm falling for you,
but your arms aren't outstretched.

I should straighten up before I scratch my knees
and bruise my heart.

(NJ2014) ©‎All Rights Reserved

it was like watching the sun set and rise
over a hundred times in a single minute,
how I saw you one second, and not the next.

your eyes were green pastures,
and when you shut them,
I imagine it was because they were in flames;
your hands ran over the plains of my back,
and mine on the stubble path of your neck,
soon finding them tangled in the waves of your hair

the teasing between the waves and shore lasted much too long,
yet it lasted shorter than I thought,

I don't know how much longer I could've done it,
walking barefoot on a sharp-shelled land
just to see your face,

but the sun set and I walked patiently to the end of the beach
and suddenly the waves calmed, and the sand was soft,
and all I knew was I was holding green hills in my hands,
the scent of the ocean filled the air,
and satisfaction on my lips.

the sun just set,
I saw you one second,
but had you the next,

and I hope the sun will rise and set again.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

he was the boy your mother always told you to stay away from,
but ended up loving more than she ever loved you.

she would know he was at your house before you did,
because she could hear the R&B; music blasting from car;
but you never heard it because that's all he ever played;
you've become accustomed to the sound.

he always seems to call you at 4am to tell you he loves you,
when he's drunk -he was drunk the first time he told you.
sometimes you feel a little bubbly inside,
then you realize, that's just what he was drinking.
your mom rolled her eyes and smiled,
dismissed it with, oh, young love.

he was the kind of boy to take you everywhere with him,
to pick you up from work and spend the whole day with you,
but was always too busy at the exact moment you really needed him.


my mom warned me to stay away from boys like him,
said that they were only trouble,

but i don't think she ever considered the trouble to be
that he would love himself loving me too much to notice
that he doesn't really know me at all.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved

if i'm the apple of his eye,
then he is the worm;
biting through my skin,
devouring me,
trying to reach the core.

All Rights Reserved (NJ2015)

i have so much to say,
but don't know how to say it,
I want to cry my troubles away,
but my eyes just won't convey it;

i'm scared. absolutely terrified,
and this time i can't make it poetic.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

You kissed me like you meant it,
as if I was the firewood and you were the flame.
It seems we tried to set it a-light
each time we came together,
but there was only a little spark.
I thought something was wrong.

I soon found that I am the car running on empty,
and you are the loaded machine;
I am the wood, I am the fire,
and you are the gasoline.

You tried to set love on fire,
just so that you could enjoy the sparks.
The fun is over, and
Now I'm burned.

(NJ2014) All rights Reserved.

you place me among other dolls in the shelf of your head,
my painted face fresher than the rest,
but I will not become dusty,
I will not be another one of your dolls.

you move my limbs because they are limp around you,
and you run your hand through my hair and pull
and you let your arms wrap around me like you're a child,
but it seems you've grown up over night and now I just sit there.

He treats me like a person,
he told me I was beautiful before the factory paint,
he's seen me in my worst state
but you hold me like a doll,
and he's scared to touch me at all

and even still, I sit on your shelf and wait.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

you look into my eyes with a sleepy gaze
and I can barely find the strength to turn away,
eyes tracing lips like they're abandoned roads
and a kiss is the hidden treasure -so far, but so close.

my face buried in your neck,
and your arms wrapped around my waist,
your hand tangled with my hair,
and my body warm in your embrace.

I can't explain, I can't explain,
but sometimes I feel as if I can lay that way for days.
I think of how it all may change,
I hope I never beg you to stay,
I hope you want to remain the same.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

after eighteen years, i still feel my life has not yet begun;
'most of objects in mirror may be closer than they appear,'
i really hope the rules of a side-view mirror
are the same rules of my future;

cause i'm driving down this quiet road,
a little lost, a little alone.

N.J

Too Much and Not Enough.
I'm the forgotten flower beneath the blanket of snow;
So beautiful in the Summer, but crushed by Winter;
there is such thing as too much.

Water ,the fuel I need,
but too much submerges me,
freezes and restrains me.
I'm wilting.
Too much at once,
and suddenly nothing.
Too much, but not enough;
timing is everything.

Days without rain
and I crumble;
rainy days deluge;
and I let it roll over me.

When Summer rolls around,
will you be there to water me;
or has the Winter left me for dead?
Or will I sprout in the *** of another?

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

Maybe that's my fault, maybe that's what I'm doing wrong.
I change people into words and metaphors;
each song I listen to screams his name, or his name, or his name,
and the music grabs me by the hand and spins me into the past;
the way he rarely smiled, but did at that moment,
and the way he kissed my forehead, I felt safe for the first time,
or the way he always made me feel like I was living life,
not just wandering around aimlessly.

I can't strum a chord without thinking about how my heart sung.
When the base drops, I can feel the moment my heart dropped
when he told me he never cared about me, that it was a facade,
or when he would rather lose himself in a different world
than hold my hand through the night,
or the way he left without a word.

Why does every song remind me of those who have wronged me?
Of all emotions from excitement to sorrow, pleasure to pain?
Why do they make me wish for one more moment with them?

Even if the only moment I can relive
is that of which he/he/he made me cry,

I want that moment again.

(NJ2014) ©All Rights Reserved.

An exterior furnished with that of Roman design.
Painted white and elegant;
columns and precise design.

Floor One.
Polished and clean.
I can see my reflection through your porcelain overcoat.
You're smooth and delicate.

Floor Two
The staircase is well maintained,
there's cracks, but not many.
The drop from here is not too far.

Floor Three
The stairs are decaying,
the elevator shines back a grey image.
Your view is great,
but the sky is cloudy.

Floor Four
Abandoned and bruised.
Shattered glass.
Creaky floorboards,
and peeling walls.

Attic
Dingy and flooded with cobwebs,
spiders and dust.
But there's artifacts here,
there's treasure here.
There's greatness here.

(NR2014) ©All Rights Reserved.

but you ignore my texts when you’re out with the guys,
and you talk about girls that catch your eye,
and you tell me all this like it’s not killing me inside.

and your hands are drunk on caffeine,
and they run all over me,
and when i told you to stop, you didn’t listen,
and when you did you stopped talking and wouldn’t look me in the eyes,
and you didn’t even have the decency to walk me to the door to leave.
i said goodbye, you say ok,
and didn’t move an inch or even look at me,

and i got to class late,
but it wasn’t as late as realization that i’m not nearly important to you
like you are to me

but unlike creative writing,
i’m already failing in the subject of you
and i don’t know why i keep trying.

NJ2015 (All Rights Reserved)

all the mornings he woke me up drunk
to walk to his house,
were because when he was sober,
and the day got later,
he had much better things to do,
than watch time slow down in my eyes.

NR2015

I want to live life through foggy eyes,
I like when things are faded;
when the streets shimmer with dew,
and the streetlights make the sky look like a low contrast filter,
and the car lights seem more bright, and break through the grey smoke.

Grey on grey: but distinguishable.

Going eighty on the highway: one way.
Not about to stop.
I know my destination, but it's just a pit stop;
home isn't on my map yet.

Two way street and I'm heading one way
- I hope I'm on the right track.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

You could look through church windows and never find what you'd see through the stained glass of her eyes. she didn't believe in God, but she swears heaven was always, 'just one more step' away.

She spent her days trying to discover herself, and her nights trying to destroy all that she learned; the bible doesn't have a chapter about figuring out where you truly belong.

She could never understand the act of willingly falling to ones knees -to them it was a moment of respect and hope; for her it was nothing more than defeat. Clasped hands and bowed head; others wishing for good fortune, she, questioning her life.

Surrounded by people who don't say anything but what they have learned; her mind the child who hasn't learned church etiquette; screaming, crying, lost, but also, pure, accepted, and unrestrained.

She was never religious, but God, she was the kind of girl everyone prayed they'd never lose. And fell, unwillingly, to their knees for when she walked away.

NJ2016

A new disease called madness and I'm it's current victim; setting my teeth into the veins of those whose blood run cold around me -can't you feel this fire burning behind my eyes? My lips are poisoned and I'm trying to infect you -get you addicted so that you can't leave me.

Take me away from these white walls and white sheets,
my head is spinning with all of the colours I can not see;
am I hallucinating or can I see beneath the painted cage?

There's a new drug called infatuation and I'm addicted;
they said it would take away the madness, but it only enhanced it.
Spend a night with me, take a shot of these words,
drown them until they sit heavily in your stomach.

Follow me into my madness,
and you'll understand why it drives me crazy,
but I never want to leave.

Let's get crazy.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

The first time I lied to my parents
was the day I found myself at your doorstep.

The surroundings were, to myself, foreign,
just as you were to me; unfamiliar, but welcoming.
I found myself shifting my fear through my feet,
hoping you wouldn't notice how nervous I was.

I've always abided to rules and structure,
but my construction collapsed when you held me for the first time,
and I ripped up the sequenced map I created in my mind;
it was the first time I found comfort in uncharted territory,
I was ready to get lost.

You take my hand and lead me through paths,
your eyes, yet another place unknown, like a forest;
and I couldn't keep my legs from sprinting.
Your hair, sandy waves, I couldn't wait to run my fingers through;
your arms, a safe-haven, a boat, I didn't mind getting carried away in.

That day I walked through the door,
I never thought I would get lost at sea,
and have trouble finding my way back out.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

I was always the girl saying,
"love is nothing but a game,
boys will break your heart,
and teenage relationships
only result in pain."

I was so smart back then.

Here I am now drowning in the rubble of myself,
a boy with a fast car sped through the paths of me;
I thought he was free-riding down my highway,
enjoying the sights of me,
but he ended up destroying scenery
and damaging my roads;
where do I go?

I was so smart back then.

I'm lost in the house of my structure,
feeling like a stranger within my own column bones.
I'm stuck with a lack of trust, and a craving of lust;
if his arms aren't around me,
where is home?

I was so smart back then.

My words used to penetrate successfully;
now they fall short to his sweet nothings.
My eyes used to be so full of passion,
now they're filled with nothing but fear.

I was so smart back then.
Why didn't I listen.

(NJ2014) © All Rights Reserved.

june 10, 2014

what was I  thinking?
a boy who doesn't care about anything,
could never care about me.

how did I expect him to hold me
as tightly as he did that cigarette?
I'm not a flame that burns out,
and when he realized that,
he smashed me on the ground.

I am not a flame that burns out.

I'll submerge the world before me in flames,
and destroy all of which once existed;
there will be no more remains of you and me
except in my memory, god, please take it away from me*

what was I thinking.
oh, what was I thinking.

(NJ2014) all rights reserved.

how can you say you like me,
when you never take the chance to get to know me.

we've been talking for ten months,
I bet you can't even tell me what my favourite colour is.
(yours is black.)

do you know that there is an entire world inside my head,
do you understand that I am barely conscious of reality?
I'm lost inside of this daydream, and I have been for quite some time.
why haven't you knocked? did you even look at the key I handed you?

I'm trying to explain to you that the world is spinning
that the flowers are growing an inch a minute,
and youre laying back on your bed, eyes closed,
laughing saying that the world is stable or you'd be spinning,
said that it's winter, flowers aren't even growing,
(the vines are strangling me. I'm screaming for help. but it's alright, it's alright. close your eyes and hide behind your cigarette smoke.)

you took out a cigarette and opened the window
because you knew that I don't like the smell of the smoke,
you placed a blanket over my shivering body
and I thought you were the sweetest thing,
I thought I was lucky,

but I wouldn't be struggling to breathe,
my bones wouldn't be shaking with the wind,
if it wasn't for you.

I may be lost in my own world,
but it seems so are you.
the only difference is I've tried to give you the key,
and you only seem to lock me out in the cold.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

if losing your mind is poetry,
my head deserves a ******* nobel peace prize.

(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

Sorting through the negatives can get tiresome.
one after another after another after another,
but one day you'll come across a frame unlike the rest
and that photograph, that scenery, that image
makes it worth the while.

NJ (All Rights Reserved)

I like the moment before the rain,
when the sky is a light grey,
and the colours of spring trees
are vibrant in contrast.

It's the soft breeze before the harsh wind,
the clean air before the rinsing;
the beginning of something big.

Maybe that's why 'we' was more exciting
before 'we' officially became 'us.'

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved.

there's evidence swimming through my veins
signals sent from the brain -he said he loves you
my heart is saying let go, it's just a game
but my brain is saying, then, just play.

words spilled from the mouth like dominoes
knocking down every wall I've built up;
my pores absorbing every silent message
from your touch -silent, but loud.

your eyes screamed with desire
and my lifeless body lusted for care,
your welcoming smile
was just a silent laugh.

if you never said a word,
I wouldn't be the pawn of a losing game,
I wouldn't be filled with empty words.

if you never said a word.

(NJ2014) © All Rights Reserved.

I'm in love with him,
and everything hurts.

Sometimes love isn't enough,
and I don't know why.

Make my brain stop,
it keeps wishing to die.

My light is gone.

Perhaps it isn't love,
they don't laugh anymore.

NJ2016

"You're good for him.
Stay."

You could say I'm selfish,
I know you're not right for me,
and I know she loves you,
and I know you love her too,
but I still want you.

You could say I'm careless,
because I know the mess I'm getting into,
and I know my father won't necessarily like you,
and I know you could never like me the way I want you to,
but I still want you.

You could say I'm fatal to myself
because I know you're going to hurt me again,
and I know that there will be an end,
and I know that you can't ever love me,
but I still want you.

You're everything I am not,
maybe that's why I want you;
to live in a world separate from my own.

Maybe I want you,
or maybe I'm just selfish.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved)

you're so careless,
I guess I shouldn't be shocked;
I'm beginning to care less.

Are you the one he calls in the middle of the night
while he’s walking under streetlights,
being guided by the moonlight

Does he tell you that you’re the only thing on his mind,
that he wants to hold you tight
and he can’t sleep if you’re not beside

it’s 4 in the morning
and he’s standing outside your door
says, get your *** out of bed
and come sleep in his arms.


That was me, once upon a time,
he stumbled up to my door
screaming ‘i’ll always love you more’

although it didn’t seem
like a horse-carriage ride
eating pancakes in slippers
with my drunken mister

was the greatest time of my life
i wish i’d known it then,
but fairytales end.

NJ2016

Words have been thrown like vases of flowers,
and the surface has been cracked,
and there are pieces of glass scattered on the floor, I know.
But there are also flowers among them.
The vase was only temporary,
I was hoping to get a new one anyway,
I just didn't want it to have to break in order to get a new one.

I pick off each flower petal and scream in the air
I should've done this, I should've said this
why did I expect you to be the stem,
hold all my unspoken words,
and still be strong and beautiful?
I'm so sorry.

I'll find a new vase,
and I'll water the flowers everyday;
I promise. I promise.
We can turn add new colours,
and place it in the sunlight
-we can plant seeds,
and let it grow in the yard
and never, ever, experience a glass breaking again.

Don't wilt on me now.

(NJ2014) (All Rights Reserved.)

Maybe I’ve lost my voice because I’ve been screaming for help for years.
Now its the big day and I can barely spill a word
-foolish child, cant you be independent?
well heres what you deserve.

I'm standing in front of a crowd of people
I've tried endlessly to rely on,
and now I'm going to show them how I've failed.

I wish I knew the difference between
holding hands and holding on,
before I was hanging over the cliff
of stability and emotion.

The spaces between your fingers
were my safety; they fit so perfectly;
but your fingers fell away like rocks
tumbling quickly into the roaring waters
of someone else’s passion.

My grip so tight on something unstable;
I once compared the feeling of being in your arms
to the wonders of the Earth around me,
but now you’re like gravity,
pulling me down into crashing waves.


My heart breaking apart like eroded rocks
on the surface of the beach;
admiration burning hot like the sun
and breezing over as it sets.

I’m shivering in the arms of the wind,
and holding on to the hands of crumbling rocks;
I wish I knew the difference between holding on and holding hands.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

his best friend asked me if i loved him,
and i've never been more positive with an answer,
than when i answered with, 'no,'
and that's what scares me.
(NJ2015) (All Rights Reserved)

this is the first time I've written about you
in twelve months.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved.

His eyes were like windows,
opened to the darkness of the night;
his arms a door once opened,
but I've locked the key inside.
I'm pounding on walls trying to get through,
but with a body like a brick wall, it's no use.

There's a fire burning but it's spilling out of the chimney,
and as the snow falls around me I can feel my heart freeze;
it's starting to stab and wound me.
I'm painting pictures on foggy windows
of memories not yet made,
but even so, they fade.

I'm knocking on the door,
I'm ringing the bell,
but this home seems to have become
a place I'm not welcome anymore.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

The closest she has ever gotten to romance
is through the imagery placed between the words
of romance novels.

Only is it here that rebel boys fall for innocent girls;
for how long could strong arms hold shaky bones
without breaking them?

He spends his nights getting lost in the bottle,
she spends hers lost in blank pages;

Her whole life is a written story
in the little composition notebook hidden beneath her bed;
the way his hands ran across her skin will only ever be as real
as the way the pencil ran hastily across the page the next hour.

Why would a spark-plug guy like him
ever find himself at the door of a girl
who only ever loses herself in romance novels.