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)

it's far too cold to just wander around,
and we're too far gone to save anything.

I know this may be too soon, but I want to get it off my chest. I know that I just got out of a relationship, and I have no intentions of jumping into another one, but I like you; at least what I have seen of you so far, and if you’d let me, I’d like to get to know you some more.

And I say that in the most innocent way. I want to hear more of the way you think, and see things some more from your perspective. I like being in your company; you bring me back to reality, but a bearable reality. I like the way that you don’t expect much from me and know that I make mistakes, yet still believe in me. The way you talk motivates me and I want to learn more; about what you know, the experiences that shaped you, who you are, what you like, not because I have anything to gain, but because I sincerely have an interest in knowing.

I don’t want to jump into a relationship, at least not now. I need to learn how to be comfortable with myself again and erase all the bits of me that I exhausted or changed in an effort to make someone like me. I don’t want to lose myself in that way again, and I want to be sure that all I do is because it’s me, and not simply to impress. Because who I was before was amazing, and I know that beneath all the scars and stitches, that person I was exists and is even stronger. I don’t want to be in a relationship until I know that I’ve made it back to who I am, and that I’m able to let that person have the best of me.

I know what I want now. I want a partner, and I say that because that’s exactly what I want. Not just a ‘relationship.’ I want someone who will grow and experience with me, someone who will adventure, someone who will confide in me just as much as I them, someone who I have just as much things in common with them as I don’t -the perfect balance of bonding over our similarities, and learning and experiencing based on our differences. My next relationship will be nothing short of experiencing the highs and lows with my best friend.

And I feel it in you. I’ve always had your shoulder to rest my head on when it got hard -even after all the mistakes and unintentional ways I’ve hurt you. I learn different theories and philosophies and ways of looking at life from you. Whether it’s skating in the rain, getting lost in a country club, watching a movie, playing instruments, or simply getting coffee; each experience has burned a permanent image in my mind. And I wish to never lose your presence in my life because you bring out the best of me, which is a lot to say considering we are nearly strangers.

I don’t want to jump into a relationship, I value you. I don’t want to pick a flower that is blooming so beautifully, I don’t want to have anything wilt in my hands. But I want to catch the petals, and I want to experience the seasons with you. And if by chance, after we grow, you wish to settle in this flower *** with me -I’ll welcome you with open arms.

NJ2016

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.

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)

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.

he has eyes of grey marble,
and skin white like porcelain.
his hair is a sandy blonde,
soft and messy like ocean waves.

his lips are pink jellyfish,
i tell myself to stay away,
but i continue to get closer,
i continue to admire,
i know i will be stung.

i'm swimming in his waves,
but i keep crashing on the shore
one day i will be washed away

i only hope that i will be admired like sea-glass
instead of the just a broken-up seashell
when he the waves decide not to pick me up from shore anymore.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved

There are very few things that are beautiful -and remain so.

The way the leaves change into beautiful neutrals at it's time of death,
the way the sun rises and sets with a beauty so awe-striking,
yet remains soundless and subtle.
The way birds continue to sing a sweet song,
though no one could understand them.
The way  the same eighty-six piano keys
can create a combination of different melodies
that can make someone either cry or laugh in joy.
The way the rain can wash away all the troubles of yesterday,
how despite setting, the sun will always rise again.

How someone so average,
can be the world to someone;
can age and break apart,
and still be the most beautiful creation
to someone who was once a stranger.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

The shower is her therapist -spilling tears all over her body, the way her heart aches to, but her eyes lack to in capacity. She combs her dark hair while she hums an old My Chemical Romance song,

When you go, don't ever think I'll make you try to stay

Gusts of wind come in through the window to remind the foggy glass that it will soon dissipate -that there is a world beyond the dewy structure. She massages the shampoo in her hair with enough strength to try to cleanse away the dirt, and thoughts.

in the morning I'll be off to find another way

She steps out of the shower and wipes off the fog of the double mirror above the sink and stares for a moment and proceeds to grab her tooth brush. Simply brushing her teeth.

The hurt isn't enough anymore to think of it as a metaphor, or anything other than what it is -it's not erasing the taste of him out of her mouth, it's not cleansing away the remains of broken innocence she gave him. That's all over now -he doesn't own that part of her anymore.

a good for nothing, I don't know.

Her face she washes with "Let The Good Times Roll," a face-wash that supposedly smells like caramelized popcorn -she hates popcorn, but she loves the smell of the Lush product; of course, she refuses that it smells anywhere similar to the corn-popped snack.

She throws on a maroon lace bralette and matching skivvies, and slips into an oversized Hanes white t-shirt that she probably purchased at the supermarket as a pack of five, and basks in the feeling of purity and freedom. She looks into the old-fashioned mirror that sits upon her dresser and puts on her retail store bought diamond earrings and $7 Walmart tree necklace and tries to give herself a smile. She's always been one with nature but like an autumn leaf, she drifted wherever the wind, or rather, he would take her. But he's gone now, and the necklace reminds her that she was always rooted -she just expanded her branches a little too far.

I don't love you like I did yesterday.

She takes a seat at her laptop that she worked hard to earn every penny for, and decides she's going to write about this girl she knows, this girl she is falling in love with again. Because even if nobody else does, she see's the beauty in herself -and she deserves to be written down.

And thats the origin of this poem.
NJ2016 [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.

i'm making wishes on flames,
that burn and fade away.
i'll cut a piece of cake,
and pretend like i believe,
and wait.

they say you can't rekindle a flame
once it has burned away;

but i want to think that you're the birthday candle
that keeps re-lighting; you know, those trick ones?

I use all my breath and blow out the flame,
i don't want to get burned,
but now the light's all gone.

I'm starring at the cake just hoping
you'll light up my world up again.

Maybe I should just enjoy the cake,
but I'd rather wait.

Please don't make me wait.

NJ2015 (All Rights Reserved)

The thought of you was crocheted into my mind
by the needle of false hope and blinded romanticism.
I thought I could cover myself in your soft words,
and fill the empty spaces with my shivering limbs,
but there were holes in the pattern of the blanket,
and I was a fool to think I could ever keep myself warm
under open stitched thread.

I wrapped myself up tightly
in the way I wished your arms would of me,
but I got tangled in a mess, and I never got comfortable.
How can I find comfort in the arms of a stranger?
How can a warm night leave me shivering?
I sewed another blanket in an attempt to keep warm,
but two unfinished cloths can't shelter as one.

It took several nights of tossing and turning
to discover that you can't keep warm
under incomplete relation,
beneath unfinished stitching.

(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.

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

I remember the first time I saw you,
you were on the front left side of the gym
walking to the sign in table,
I knew you'd be important somehow.

I remember the first time we talked,
we were on the bleachers on the back right side of the gym,
you sat in front of me talking to your friend, my friend,
I knew I wanted you.

I remember when you first started sitting with us,
we sat in the painted-floor circle in the middle of the gym
It took some time before I worked up the nerve to say
"Oh hey, I have that free too! I'm usually in the cafeteria."

I remember the first time you spent a free with us,
front half of the cafeteria, middle row, back table
you taught me how to unlock a password locked phone.
I remember your colourful shirt with black sleeves, you wore it often,
I remember hoping you'd be there every free after that,
and you came a lot after that.
I think we were the reason for the vending machine shortage,
we probably bought all of the chocolate chip cookie ice-creams.

I remember the first time talking about you,
and I remember the first time being told "he's not a good idea."
I remember the first time being told "you like him, don't you?"
and I remember the first time you invited us to your house
we didn't go because I was scared

I remember the first time I got your number,
and I remember trying to contain my excitement.
I remember walking all the way home to get my long-board
because you said you would skate with me
you haven't seen your skateboard in years but you decided to leave that little detail out and pretend you were going to look for it

I remember the first time we hung out alone,
I remember the park, I remember the swings.
I remember returning there months later
and laying on the grass looking at the light blue sky.

I remember looking at the dark blue sky,
and the starry night on the high-school field just months later.
You held my hand for the first time that night.
I was locked out of my house that night.
You walked me home that night.

When I got home you walked off singing 'Rude'
and I remember thinking "I am so *******."

I remember the first time you kissed me,
it was on my forehead.
I remember the first time I kissed you,
and your shocked reaction.
I remember you falling asleep,
and the twitching of your jaw,
and they way you pulled me closer.
I remember laying on the hammock with you
watching the day turn to night.

I remember the first time I went to kiss you on the lips,
and I remember you taking out a cigarette
and crossing to the window.

"I'm not as stupid as you may think"

I remember you leaving,
I remember getting hurt,
I remember falling apart.

I remember your explanation,
and I remember kicking myself for understanding.
I remember you saying you're not ready.

I remember when you decided you were ready,
I remember the first time you kissed me on the lips,
(waiting for almost a year was about to **** me)
and I remember thinking for the first time in years,
'i might get hurt. but that's alright. that's alright.'

Two months short of a year ago I met you,
and I don't remember the feeling I got the first time I saw you,
because you can't remember what never disappeared.

you're important, somehow.
i knew i wanted you.

(NJ2015) (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)

taking shots of whiskey instead of bullets,
i’ll wake up in the morning with a hole in my heart, but not through my chest.

bleeding out in the form of words I’ll soon forget, words I’ll come to regret. my dress stained only with spilled liquor and the hands of people I’ve never met.

my world is spinning so I’ll make my head match. I’ll dance until the lights go on, and my vision goes black. what kind of life is that? what kind of life is that.

ill make the first move, *** and coke - actually, make that two.  lead me to the dance floor, sway back and forth - no longer in my hands, my fate is in the glass.

one day I’ll find the life I’ve been chasing. kitchen dancing and movie nights, children laughing, alone time. the bottom of this bottle won’t bring me home, but I keep chasing. I keep chasing.

nicole joanne 2021

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)

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.

When you look into her eyes
I hope you find yourself drowning in the middle of the sea.
Her eyes may be pretty,
but they're no life-raft.

You're a cliff-hanger,
flirting with danger,
and I'm the jealous rocky mountain
about to lose her last rock.

Don't hold on to me.
(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

clouds move as night arrives,
shape-shifting in movement.
looking for a new home,
soft and slow,
fragile,

but still hurts.
still abandoned.

float away like a cloud,
it still leaves me dark.

(NJ2014) 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.

Racing down Madison Avenue against traffic
was never how I expected to crash into him.

He draped his arms around the wreckage, holding it tightly;
everything was piled against the tree -broken pieces scattered;
eyes black as oil stained his white T-shirt,
gasping, crying, inaudible speech.

The gas ran empty and the windows fogged,
everything fell to the floor, fell apart,
broke down - and then it was fixed.

by the simple putting together of a mechanic?

I crashed into myself,
by the dictionary definition of violently colliding;
fell apart.

but, when I crashed into him,
everything fell together.

N.R

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.

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)

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]

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.

I wish I could say that I told you I was fragile,
that the last boy who loved me left without a goodbye,
and that in the midst of trying to bring him back home
I realized I was nothing but glass and ended up falling to the floor,
left cracked and scattered.

I thought you were the broom that could sweep me back together,
but you only made a path so that you could walk by unharmed;
you left the swept up pieces in the dust pan,
I didn't know you'd soon throw them away.

There's little pieces of me still sliding around on the wooden floor,
I should've known you wouldn't try to put me back together.
I wish I could say I warned you of my sharp edges
and the amount of tears I've accumulated,
but you saw the flowers I held,
and I didn't think much of the dirt;
nor did I ever think you'd create more weight.

You watered the flowers so much they drowned,
and you left them to wilt; you left me overflowing.
I wish I told you to leave before breaking me again,
I guess I forgot.

But mosaics are just pieces of broken glass,
and by breaking me you've only made it easier
for the next person to find me more disastrously beautiful.

(NJ2014) © 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)

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)

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)

I thought if I let my heart bleed into my hands I would be able to mold it like clay into a form that wouldn’t be too heavy for you to carry

I thought that someday all these tears would wash away the pain I was feeling and leave me floating in your arms.

when I felt scared and alone I’d leave the television on, hoping the lights and sounds would keep away the monster that kept trying to lurk in my head.

I wish I knew that monster was only trying to save me - he wanted to whisper the things in my ears that I refused to believe you never said to me, to drag me kicking and screaming off the bed that comforted me with the scent of you from last night. he wanted to touch me and send shivers down my spine in the same way you did - he wanted to show me that sometimes evil is a boy with dark eyes and brown hair. that the monster isn’t hiding under your bed, but laying next to you in the sheets.

njr

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.

screaming to an empty crowd,
glass eyes and swollen limbs.
hands are grasping on railings
of a train leading to nowhere,
when all I wanted was a ticket
to somewhere.

nature seems to be the only beauty
in this life of pain and struggle;
but trees are trees,
and lakes and oceans are nothing but water,
and the weather will cry sometimes.

but even still,
none of that is enough to make me feel at home,
to make me feel okay alone.

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.

Never look into anyone's eyes.
Always make eye contact.
But never look into anyone's eyes.

I remember looking at your eyes
and seeing different shades of green;
and splatters of gold and blue.
(or maybe they were just green;
I haven't seen you in a while,
and I have a tendency to romanticize.)
But I never looked into your eyes.

Like a prison, lines cross  your pupils;
I know if I slip through them I will be stuck,
I will be locked up and held hostage;
but curiosity is a delinquent
and he's made a home inside of my head.

I've always been drawn to sadistic and broken,
love the idea that I could be the medicine needed to satisfy;
but truth of the matter is, despite my efforts to try,
I'm only a placebo and you know so.

I've never looked into your eyes,
but I've looked at them,
and man, how I've thought endlessly about
what lies behind them.

Call me intrusive, because I am.
I want to know when you last cried,
and why? Is that why there's blue sprinkled on your eyes?
When was the last time you smiled, genuinely?
'Could I ever make you as happy
as the moment you are trying to relive
when you're downing that bottle?

I've never looked into your eyes,
but I've thought and made it so.
I'm prison-bound.*

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

All she ever wanted was someone to look into her eyes
and tell her they would rather get lost in her milky way
than in the blue skies of another.
She wanted arms to be wrapped around her in the way
the cover of a book would its pages: tight and secure,
but loose enough to let her story build on.
How many times can a person fall in love and not be loved in return?
How many words can be wasted on people who will never read them?
Why dress up sadness in beautiful metaphors?

Daydreaming of someone looking at her as if she was the metaphor
for all things beautiful and sad in life,
how though a rose may be sharp-stemmed
he'd endure the thorns and adore the petals;
dreaming of finding that someone
who will see the pink beneath the red
and know that though passionate as she is.
there's a fragile little girl hidden, scared.

How many times can you watch the sun set and rise,
only to build up fantasies and beautiful lies?
Dancing on a field of green under the colours of the world;
I swear there's a colour that has not yet been observed.
I dream I dance beneath it, with his hand in mine;
I identify with a colour that has not yet been inscribed;
who would hold a hand of one that is not confirmed?
Who will see the colour if neither can I?

She writes poetry in an attempt to become a poem herself,
in the eyes of someone else.

(NJ2014) © 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)

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)

there's four kinds of love poems.

1. the one about the guy who you wish to experience. the guy who makes you wonder. the guy you're curious about. the man who has dreams not yet revealed. the guy you have made a picture of in your head. the one you want to know.

2. the guy who broke your heart. the boy you love. love him more than anything, but maybe youre just not in love anymore. the boy who never quite transitioned to a man. the 'wrong time.' the one you thought you would live your life with. the one who wasnt perfect, or even great, but you thought of him the world.

3. the comparison. who you thought you loved, but realized later on there is a love much stronger. the people who fall into this category grows bigger with experience and time.

4. the love of your life and if you're lucky, hopefully he's the same person as number one.

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.

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.

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)

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)

the film plays
a 1950's film
I am lost for a moment;
dancing to the blues and looking into the eyes of a lover -they're grey.
grey eyes. grey skin. grey lips. grey ballroom.
grey. grey. grey. -everything is grey.

But his eyes are a deep grey with light specks,
and the tiles on the floor are patterned with different shades,
and he is dressed with dark grey attire
-but he is the most colourful thing I have ever seen.

In a colourful world you would think things would be complementary;
but the more colourful it appears, the more black and white it is;
the carpet is red, just red, the walls are white, just white,
his eyes are brown. Just brown.
but in this film his eyes are grey -light, grainy, grey.

There's grey in his eyes,
and there's grey all around me,
but my, I seem to have gotten lost;
his eyes are the most colourful things I've ever seen in my life.

the film stops.

(Nicole Joanne) all rights reserved

I wish I had known that the ring on your finger disappeared when you were with her, that I was just a placeholder
in case you never got the chance to hold her again.

I wish I had known the last time we kissed. I would’ve paid more attention to how your closed eyes were painting me into her image. Your hands interweaved through black strands, moving slowly unto pale skin. How you morphed the mountains of my bones into the soft hills of her baby face.  How your tongue danced around the fact that I was not her.

I wish I had known the dull in your rainbow eyes were because brown looking glass could never take you to the valleys of her green irises. That I was lightning, a quick spark, something that reminded you of a brighter day when all felt cloudy.

Had I known you never loved me,
I wish I could’ve said I’d have walked away,
but even the moon shows it’s face sometimes
in the light of day: and I’m sure I would’ve loved you that way.


N.R

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

(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

I'm ready for something real.
I'm tired of being the curtains that are pulled closed every-night.

I once gave a boy my glass heart, and he held it dear,
and then, he moved away. And I was packed inside a box,
it was labeled, 'fragile,' 'handle with care.'
It wasn't for months that I saw the sun,
and when I did, I couldn't tell the difference
between artificial, and sunlight.
Once again, he held me in his hands,
but they were rough and calloused;
the security was gone.

I was placed in a corner where I was rarely touched again,
and one night something terrible must've happened,
my smooth exterior seemed to have sharpened at the edges,
and he placed me in a bin, never to be seen again.

There's vases that hold flowers,
and there's vases that are placed in china cabinets;
I'm tired of being falsely decorated.
I'm tired of having to hold everything in,
and be expected to be the beautiful centerpiece
for everyone to glance at, and walk by.

I am beautiful, but I am not a centerpiece.
I am also a collection of flaws;
I'm translucent: all my emotions flood,
and I'm fragile; I tend to break at the slightest touch,
and I'm empty,
until someone fills me up.

But I want something real.
I don't want to hold plastic flowers,
that will never fade away.
I want to hold the beautiful rose
and at it's prime time,
though I will cry,

I can say it was real.
I can say he was mine.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

"You're good for him.
Stay."