you complete my thoughts before i utter a word
you speak as if you take the words out of my mouth
robbing me of the sentences that are filled with doubt
and changing them to certainty, like a frown turned upside down
i don't always know what to say, but with you, you turn that around
but sometimes i feel bad, that i can't find the exact words to say
yet you keep talking, word after word
whether be it on screen or the voice inside your head, the tips of your fingers, or the whispers that have yet to be said
with a mind so beautifully written
i wonder if you truly are too clever for your own good
yet i am thankful for your way of words
for the comfort and for the person on the other side
and if given enough time to find the words i could
they wouldn't be enough to suffice how amazing of a person you are

but i know in the end, i need not explain, for we both know, my incomplete thoughts will be understood

n.j.

The other day I was offered a cigarette and I simply shook my head.
I watched my friends light theirs between chapped lips, with a piece of menthol candy wrapped in plastic on their other hand.
With their wrists bent and their mouths open, I observed them inhale and exhale cancer, as I welcomed it into my nostrils.
I refused because I despised the idea of being the center of attention and I recall the vendor looking at me with her wrinkled forehead, wondering if I would agree to my "first" cigarette. And I didn't.
Yet in return I felt eyes looking at me, speaking to me, saying things like "That was uncool of"
I remember immensely focusing on the ashes that departed from the sticks and staring at them as they crashed into the muddy waters.
Every flick and drag was a subtraction of the overall years planned ahead for them. A part of me wished I could be in their shoes,
Because they were a step ahead of me, dragging them closer to their deathbeds.
Frankly, I thought of dying way more than any of them.
I am the one who is supposed to be nicotine infused, I should be the one composed of soon-to-be cancer cells and packs of cigarettes for future use.
Yet I stood there, slowly becoming a victim and a product of their secondhand smoke and abuse.

n.j.

He treasured every inch of her skin
As if he was responsible for putting together her body structure and curves
Every detail was well thought, a result of numerous hours of unsharpened pencils and sketches
He has done this before, maybe even to the point that every stroke became less and less meaningful
When he wasn't preoccupied, leisure consisted of admiring buildings, edifices and towers that touched clouds and reached skies
He contemplated and wondered if he would ever come up with a design, so great that it would represent perfection
During nights when he would close his eyes,
He imagined a bare lot with overgrown grass, enclosed with trees
He pictured the process of construction, men moving back and forth, drenched in sweat,
And heat that showered on them like hovering bees
He never knew what perfection looked like, no matter how many times he would lie in bed at night with closed eyes
But she came to him like an idea, an inspiration that walked through the door
Yet he did not recognize that perfection looked beautiful in lavender
Nor did he know that she loved soft rains and ice cream during winters
He did not acknowledge such existence until she tore down her walls for him
And she became his favorite sketch, a structure he would always keep building
An assembly of the most appealing interior, countless hallways and staircases
A concept that needed more explanation and could not be written, spoken or expressed as blueprints
She became his favorite design, and a treasure he valued way more than any of his work

He loved her.

n.j.

how simple is love, if you could just walk out the door, and have them fall into your arms
how simple is love, if you could long for company and have them racing to you like the pace of your heart
how simple is love, if you could just place your hands against their cheeks, so simple yet satisfying as when your tongue tastes the light of the sun
how simple is love, if you could have them within reach, like most material things so irrelevant and what are considered wants over needs
how simple is love, if you could have them close, too close by your sheets that they become the comfort and the air that you breathe
how simple is love, if you could wake up and have the presence of their weight felt, whether a phone call away or an inch
how simple is love, if i could simply have you here, whenever i need you the most for a kiss
how simple are all these things, and the love we view as bliss, like those we read in between pages and paragraphs, a crisscross of how two people meet

yet in between these pages and lines, are the stories and words that have yet to unfold
and i was not aware of what i had to hold before my eyes

i cannot feel you by the tips of my fingers, nor can i walk out the door to find myself welcome to your arms and kiss
i can only long for your company, praying that my heart will not leap out of my chest, because i know that no one will come racing to claim for the lifeless body, and i will be buried under, nailed and coffin closed, sadly like the rest
i cannot have you within reach, i can only surround myself with all of these temporary wants and in time, i know, i will no longer need
i will suffocate underneath these sheets, and your weight will not be felt because you are miles and miles apart, separated by sea, not an inch
and i cannot return back the love you need but i will continue to love you nonetheless, without growing tired and weary, no matter if i am even close to death, and to me, this is the simplest love can get

these are the stories and paragraphs that have yet to unfold
in between the lines are these words of a love we all view as bliss, a crisscross of how two people meet
and this was the only thing i had myself to prepare for

the story i grew up being told

n.j.

the walls leaned in closer every time she spoke
as fleeting as her voice, time shook before her
her hands were the minutes and the hours
her smile was a reminder, her eyes were a lover's
yet she belonged to no one but herself
each breath took was a second lost
each word drifted and passed around
each picture taken was a memory
she was slowly slipping towards death
and although she knew,
there was always something beautiful about it

n.j.

Listening to songs that remind me of winter
Chilling guitars and ice cold skin
I taste bliss on chapped lips
Tiny hairs on my arms that go unnoticed stand on end
The heat is rising here, it feels like summer yet Christmas is fast approaching
I miss my childhood of hazy mornings, heavy eyelids appreciating windows pressed with mist
Layers of clothing that will never satisfy the warmth of my skin
I miss the innocence that I once held
Handprints on glass spaces facing city lights every day and night
Craving for warm bodies wrapped around thick blankets, awaiting the first sunrise of Christmas Eve
My family's love and warmth never beyond reach
I miss the way my stomach filled, as I exchanged smiles and gifts across the dinner table
And I despise the way such songs remind me of the way I felt during those winters

I miss the little girl who didn't care if her smile made her teeth look big

I miss the little girl with clean skin and intentions

I miss my family that always stood by each other

I miss the 10 years that slipped away from my fingers

I miss winter and how the little things remind me of excited footsteps echoing and filling up walls of a household of four individuals

The foggy windows, chilly mornings, familiar lights, laughter and smiles stored enough to keep our bodies warm for the days to come

I miss the songs sung by our stereos, pervading the air with joyous breaths as we exchange bright possibilities and futures

I miss the Christmas that I've always known

n.j.

and that's when i realized
that i'll always love her
no matter if the sun rises and shines
no matter if the moon loses its partner
no matter if the sky turns gray and dies

i'll always love her

until the world stops turning
until the rivers run dry
until the trees lose their leaves and crumble

i'll always ******* love her

I love how the ocean puts me at ease
How the sand kisses my toes
How the wind feels so strong
Almost as if someone's wrapping
Their arms around me
How I feel so secure
How no one can hear me
How I'm all alone with nobody
And nothing but the breeze

I love how cold it is
How free I am
It almost feels like bliss

I love how the ocean
Can almost be like a dear friend
That has always been there listening
Never pretending like everybody else

I love how no matter how many times
The seasons have changed, it always
Tells me that everything's going to be okay
No matter how strong the waves
How violent or aggressive they may be
It was always there, to calm me
Keeping me from harm
From everything it knew of me

But I hate the thought of not knowing
That it has always been there
And will forever be

I hate how unappreciated I have been
That not a single hello or thank you
Ever passed through me
Not even a smile of gratitude
To satisfy the bliss that it has given to me

I hate how my last moments
Were with you
How you kissed my toes
With the sand that will become me
How you embraced me with your
Last bliss
Making me as secure for the journey

I hate how when I finally gave away
And closed my eyes
I only realized that you've always been there
Waiting for a reply
For a last goodbye

But I love how you still accepted me
Despite the circumstances
You took me without hesitation
Without regret
Without hate
Just love
Enough to put me at ease
Enough to keep me awake
Even after all these years
Because to you, I was always a friend

And you

My therapy


n.j.

her eyes would go
to all sorts of faraways
body, mind and soul disconnected
yet merged into the perfect embodiment
breathing in a world filled with plastic and insincerity
behold are her hands that work wonders and as her words of pure,
she is the clearest vast of ocean and slate you will ever come across to witness

a flower amongst a field of defiled individuals
she is, if not, the closest to perfect

(n.j.)

baggy shirts and folded sleeves
holding hands and acid washed jeans
from clean to stained clothing
we watched yesterday's crooked teeth
hide behind grown smiles from each other's lips, and for once, our futures seemed promising
our skin was pure yet our insides were battered
but bandages and plaster cast arms were just shells and they never mattered
we are both our own places
it's our choice where we choose to stand
and our faces are merely masks and disposable skin and emotions
we let our hearts do the talking, the questioning and the loving
this is what we were made for
not to be thrown around and ripped of our own exterior, but to be planted on the ground with our heads facing the clouds
and our wrists stretching out along with our fingers, grabbing all the opportunities and experiences

we are not carousels of repetition
we are layers of unwritten episodes
we are human beings

n.j.

love is a knock on the door
if ever it comes unexpectedly, be sure to make it feel at home
it will be this stranger with a smile too enticing to ignore, yet you will give it your all, trust and love, skin and bones

love is the corner of each page turned
patiently waiting for the reader to fall in love with him or her
it is the beginning of every word written on paper, and to every beginning there must come an end, yet the ending to each story will keep you at your toes, with a desire for another chapter or even another word

love is the warm mornings of winter
it is a blanket enveloping every inch of your skin, ensuring you that haven is within reach and the spaces between your fingers
its kiss will be the taste of coffee or tea and its embraces will be felt enclosing the very palms of your hands, giving you the satisfaction you need

love is a child with scraped knees
no matter how many times they fall, no matter how many more experiences they meet and no matter how many times they have to land on their knees, they will rise eventually, whether with tears in their eyes or a smile too big that it stretches their cheeks, they will continue running and playing the game they never finished

yet love is not a game you can play, not with feelings
it is not a card you can trade, it is not something you can throw away after the game is finished
it is this victory that engulfs you once you have reached the other end of the line
it is this passion waiting to congratulate you on the other side, with a kiss, a hug, or even more love so divine

but love is not all about contentment and days numbered with joyous hours and time
it is also the taste of defeat, a taste that your tongue and palate will never grow used to
it is a wound that is never there, that stings with each touch and each word that reminds you of the other
it is inevitable and a moment that cannot be stopped with time
it is a journey that cannot be undone, a path that you cannot meet halfway, yet you will try with every ounce you’ve got to reach the finish line you thought was destined for you and the other
and even though that other started off with a smile, too enticing to ignore, you gave all your love and trust, to every bit of your skin and bones
no matter if they’re gone, along with your love and trust, at least they gave you back something in return

because love stayed up with you all night
talked with you for hours as if time itself was slipping away
love was an argument you couldn’t win
it was the only game that made you feel that you failed
it was a heartbreak away yet you pushed yourself to look past the flaws that made them frail
love was an inspiration to strength
a story that made you turn each page even though you knew the beginning to their end
and no matter what weather, love gave you the warmth you needed
it became the time that healed the wounds to your knees, the spaces between your fingers, the blanket that enveloped every inch of your skin

yet love was also the reason why the smile so wide it reached your ears, disappeared
it was the reason why you stayed up all night, waiting for time to slip away
it was the reason why your view on love developed into fear

and still, love was the reason why you were thankful, that you reached the finish line
it was the reason that kept you waiting by the door each night, expecting and hoping for another knock to come by
love was the reason why you trusted strangers with such smiles
and you knew that no matter what happened, if love still came knocking at your door
you were sure that you would still welcome it home

n.j.

we all rely on the gravity that pulls us back into the earth when our heads are caught up in the clouds. the world is one gigantic living and breathing organism that latches on to the beliefs we so speak. but what separates me from you are the barriers that position us in places where we're out of reach. and all i desire for is to be able to meet you, see you and acknowledge the fact that you are real.

i move from place to place until i lose count of all the people i encounter and i feel as if we may have crossed paths on the streets or the grocery store or daily hour. i'd be lying if i say that i never get tired of searching for you every day but i believe the world moves in mysterious ways so that one day those walls will crumble and disappear and everything else will fall into place, and just maybe you might be real.

i drag my feet across concrete and daily routines often forgetting that the world is indeed too unfathomable to explain. you could have been that person gazing out the window of hotel rooms or vehicles. you could have been the person in front of the line, counting your change before making your way. you could have seen the scars on my arms or my vacant eyes and how you wished you could have approached me in some way that wasn't odd for you and i. maybe you could have said hi. but such acknowledgments are often dismissed with eye contacts and smiles, sometimes not even our senses could be leaned on. our true intentions disguised with glances, subtle hand brushes and complete negligence.

quickly enough, you are nothing but just a stranger walking past me unknowingly with only the thoughts of daily routines clouding up your mind. you may forget the order of things and misinterpret a stare as elusive, wishfully hoping it could have been an introduction to a greeting. i apologize for not initiating on to the next step and only admiring how lonely a human being could get, standing alongside me and many others yet our bodies seem to respond only to each other intensely but subtly to the eye.

we both know the holdback is agonizing and we wish for the day when we would be running our fingers through the rubble of the walls we tear down. for now, what we believe in will remain as thoughts. the world will always contradict with our stream of desires, dreams and feelings. you and i may not know of each others' existence but everything else on this earth is alive, living and breathing, and in time i will be able to look at you in the eyes and know for sure that you are all that is real.

n.j.

the moments pass by like fading eclipses and melting snow
i'll melt away into the dark and picture the fingers that caressed my skin,
you cradled my heart and watched me grow
thank you for being there as i witnessed the city lights behind foggy windows
for kissing my knees and elbows, for showing me how to pour milk into cereal
for every second you bury your fists into the dirt, you never complained,
no matter even if i never thanked you enough
i threw away the chances i got, so here's the best that i'm given
i dedicate this poem to you that's written in between listening to records at 2 am
the smudginess of how clear i want my gratitude to come across will remain turbid
and you can tell by the skies how much i miss the weekends by the bay,
the sand between my toes and shoes colliding with the gravel
i miss the summer and winters but this family is all i have to remember things by
thank you for being the angels that stood by my side. i appreciate the guidance that light during dark tunnels
for not forcing me to change despite my greasy hair and scraped knuckles
thank you for running with me and for catching my tears when they fall
you loved me unconditionally, the kind of love a daughter could ever ask for
you traced my smile with yours and connected my bones when i was lost
you picked me up when i tried collecting dust off of table corners,
you said it was okay to feed and love the cats that roamed the streets
and i will forever admire your courage and sincerity
although life is but a fleeting journey in which our hands were once that held onto overgrown grass and our mother's hair,
let us remember this moment when everything feels less of temporary
let us appreciate the people that held our hearts,
let us thank them with a kiss, a hug, words on paper, a work of art
let us continue to love them

so here it is, my thank you to you

n.j.

your words spill like hot coffee across the table
with every syllable and touch of the tongue against your palate
i am still not used to how clouded your mind is
you often forget that i exist as a person with emotion,
a person with scars that can gradually reopen
i realized throughout the days that you barely know the little things,
like my favorite color, the reason behind my smiles and the passion
that i've grown used to hiding
you forget to question the reason behind my tears,
you forget to hold me when i'm surrounded by all these fears,
but i guess i've gotten used to knowing
that your words can't always fix what's broken inside

you say that i know nothing
but with every sweep of your broom,
with every wipe of your cloth
against the corners that have slowly started to collect dust
you bury me under what used to be a colossal of a heart
i try to suffice this cup with a love-filled gesture,
a written letter, an explanation to why i am an apparent disappointment
but nothing will ever be enough

you say that i know nothing
but to rely on the people around me
you say that i can't cook to please,
that i can't fix things and that i'm clueless on how to live this life
that has been given to me
that my hands are too weak to hold the stirring wheel
that my skin is too soft and easily grazed
that i can't satisfy a husband if needed be

so i'm sorry and that i know nothing
but to observe life from a far away distance
that i've been too busy trying to fix my mistakes
instead of cleaning the messes i leave behind
i'm sorry for being a lousy driver
for as my weak hands have to offer
only comfort and guidance to the people i love the most
i'm sorry for clinging to my own perspective of wisdom
instead of working towards the outcome,
for leaving the dishes as they towered one on top of the other
i'm sorry for being human, and for being a daughter
that has not passed your expections
for being the one that knows nothing more
but to cherish the hands meant for reaching places instead of bed sheets
meant for adventure, instead of suffering

i'm sorry for living

Late night drives while seated at the backseat
I observe my dad and his heavy hands balancing the steering wheel
Even though with half closed eyes I can feel his drowsiness
A cap resides on his head and his fingers are too huge for his wedding ring
And I wonder if mom is wearing hers,
Or if it’s placed in some inner pocket of her purse
Her unsteady head accompanied with light snores
Her reflection an image, almost an apparition on the window
And the vast blackness that comes along with it
I remember smiling as I drift off to sleep
The humming of the engine circulating the air,
Creating an ambience as I hug my knees
I look at my brother one last time
Faint beats escape his headset plugged into an mp3 player
I jokingly nudge at his shoulder
And a smile curls up the corners of his lips
I recall feeling content as I gaze out
Ahead were the dim city lights and the superior night surrounding unseen stars

I fell in love with every moment of it

n.j.

You are perfection
From your lips to your skin
Tanned body and your dedication
To music from within
The aura that bursts
Setting fire to the stage
Your fingers that play
For effortless hours and days
Dreadlocks they extend
From your shoulders
To your chest
Tattoos that cover
Your heavy fingers
With images
Your smile
That keeps me happier
Than anything else
Your recklessness
I love it, the way
You brag around and tell
--------------
But you are a musician
And I am just a girl
I watch from afar
There's always this distance
Like every other fan
In this world

n.j.

She had a heartbeat that raced and chased cars
She was never after anyone and had no one in particular
She was like a reserved box, labeled fragile
Enclosed in a bundle, like a new born infant
"Caution" was something she didn't come with
She was not a beforehand preparation
She was a victim of beings, demons is what you call them
And they were harvesting within her
The only thing she had to lose was the life that was given to her
Her possessions were minimal,
Not enough to surpass the numbers on her fingers
Body parts and a beating heart,
Skin and bones, an exterior soon to rot to dust
And the one thing she craved for was the strength
To get past the barriers of her heart
She was a body bag in the making,
An unwritten obituary, a nameless face on a Monday morning's newspaper
She was a roled up article next to a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes
The only recognition she would ever get is the folded edge,
A mug's wet mark of caffeine, the ashes of a finished stick
And unwanted condolences
She was the closest you could get to non-existence
Flesh and shivering bones connected
Lungs with smoke that filled up the spaces
Breathing like a clenching fist
And each time they deflate into a sheet of tissue
She lets out a a dying breath of relief

n.j.

I don't think this cycle is meant to be broken
I seem to be running in circles, frequently going back into old habits like it's bound to happen
I detest each passing day with a passion because I should be living a life worth telling and I should be dreaming dreams that I will make into a reality
But I keep cutting my words short, filling my lungs with smoke and body with scars too prominent to show
I have nothing to look forward to, my days feel numbered and I'm not responding well to the help I'm offered
I'm burying my voice along with the others, I'm not afraid of them anymore

I will let them devour me alive, watch them tower over me until I am nothing, until I am no more

n.j.

it's eating me away
clawing at my walls and corridors i built up to keep my feelings safe
i'll be their last meal for the night
and when dawn comes i'll be remains,
blood and bones ready to ignite

n.j.

5:06 AM

5 in the morning and still tucked in bed
except the blanket isn't in place, my legs and toes are exposed, giving such fabric an insignificant purpose
i feel the faint air brushing against my thighs and ankles
yet my hands are unsure on what to do next, whether i should engage into pleasure or another paragraph of endless admiration
i think of him
i think of her
and all my senses drown out except for the fan propelling air toward me
everything else is unheard of,
the itch between my legs ignored, the aggravating temptation of relapse slowly dying out
like the body waiting for an image or a representation, an embodiment of perfection, and how my words are piling up to become of redundancy
i am the fire of a candle, soon to become its demise and leftover wax
and all i can picture is how perfect his skin is, and how beautiful she is
as the sun deliberately rises to its peek and emits pale blue through the curtains
and here i am wishing that i could have someone who can whisper me to sleep once again
but i am lonely and my bed is empty
another morning and night wasted

n.j.

it's the little things that we appreciate, like how the body forms into a shell ready to take you in,
welcoming you into their mind of oceans and currents as they willingly embrace you
we attempt to picture every moment we have with them, wondering if we'll ever fit the frame
conversations are merely recordings that fade into background, the true connections made through sincerity, subtle glances and intense regard
the flesh and skin that they wear appear as exhibits that we alone can touch
their presence a reward, their words a treasure for the heart
we notice the fine lines, their dainty wrists, and veiny hands
we notice their crooked smiles and how the corners hang like a wanderer stapled to the moon
we romanticize too much of everything that is easily dismissed by everyday eyes
although almost invisible, they mean every beat of the heart
to every fiber of the soul, to ever breath we breathe in
so when the smiles disappear like forgotten dust, we cannot help but fall apart
we disintegrate into tossed cigarette butts that once resided on lips we love
we cannot forget the way they laced their fingers together, or how they made their coffee
how their ears are shaped, how they gazed into space when we watched them wondering what they were thinking
how they carried their feet when we dragged them, conversing in drunken breaths
because nothing is as simple as that, a disappearance like a thief in the night who took our lives with them
nothing will resemble or replace even a strand of hair
because it's the little things that tear us apart as well

n.j.

it's become a habit of mine
to count the number of sticks i consume
but for each day that passes, each time
i lose track of the moments i can't refuse
i do realize what i'm getting myself into
i do understand the risks i choose
ironically whenever i'm on a break
a cigarette is what helps me breathe
and the longer i am without it, i'll crave
and its absence will make my lungs bleed

n.j.

I don't believe in the words you say
No matter how hard I try to force myself
I always fall in between restraint
Your words will always be a contruction of lies
Even if they were built on how you believe things will be
How you forsee you and me but I,
I will always hide behind my doubt
I will always get used to the feeling of people leaving
It's kind of sad to know that the only love I have ever known
Is the love I always offered
Receiving nothing in return
So I'm sorry if I find everything hard to believe
Even if they are just words on screen
There is only one thing I want you to believe
That I know how much effort and emotion you put into them
But it's just that I feel that those words
Are never meant for me

n.j.

the most prominent thing i remember is the back of your head and how the last thing i always picture is the front door closing
my heart is left empty and so is my bed
i can't claim it to be ours, not anymore in this room of broken promises
i wish you could have left me your clothes hanging, then maybe you would have lingered longer than the wind or of how cigarettes smell
you may be wondering why i'm struggling for air, trust me i've been trying to quit but with every drag and stick your face shows up in between and if that's the only way to not forget then i'd rather choke on coughing fits
the day you carried out your bags, you took away what belonged to me as well
you were the whole package of dreams and soon to be's, you were my future but you cut the strings and i had no choice but to let you slip through my fingers
you stayed long but how you withdrew yourself from me was an act of retreat
you did not have to leave
so if you ever come back searching for me, know that all i have to offer is to forgive
we make mistakes as human beings, it's our nature's way of living but i will never blame you for wrong doings
i will love you for as long as these corners stand firm and still, afterall this was the house we lived in

You're ****** up in every way
And that's what makes you more perfect
You've made mistakes day by day
But I'm always here to say you're worth it

You drank to relieve the pain
And smoked cigarettes to fill up your lungs
You covered yourself in tattoos from fingers to arms
But there's always that person reminding you of the wrong you've done

You swore to carry on
Past the judgements and mistaken looks
The ***** stayed to help and so did I
But somehow that never helped, and so your life, you took

Your smile remained, along with your love
Your laugh, your touch
Your courage was there
But something wasn't enough

You kissed me and it tasted like death
Of whiskey, recklessness and cigarettes
Your heart, it continued to beat less
But on this day, I never knew I'd be all alone because you left

You offed yourself that night
It was summer, and the moon was out
A tight rope, with relief in your eyes
You said you'd carry on
But here we are, you and I

n.j.

I would be lying if I told you that I am never bothered by the way you perceive the world. As a matter of fact, I am sick and tired of wanting to know what you're like with depression out of the picture. But if I were to repaint and reconstruct every feature of this portrait, I will see things as partial representations. You are incomplete without it. It has come to a point where it defines you completely. I can't even remember the last time you smiled and meant it or the last time you were genuinely happy.  
You've come to master getting used to being ignored, maybe not entirely but you are this book and in comparison to the many others, you are too complicated to be worth their time. They solely focus on other things that do not involve you, so you're left on your own to decipher your passages and you will remain as an enigma to them.
I promised you that by the time you reach this age, you would be too busy worrying about college and other things like if your boyfriend or girlfriend prefers your old hair over your new haircut, or if the girl that you like feels the same way, or if that guy in your class smiled at you because he thought it was finally time to make a move.
And now you've reached that age and you are worrying about college, but not over those other things.
5 years ago you wanted to die, and with each year that passed that desire grew into a shadow that always lingered behind you. Now it overshadows your actions and you're too busy wondering and worrying why no one has held your hand and looked at you the way you wanted someone to.
You're too busy trying to keep your watch from sliding down your wrists, too busy hiding the lines that overlapped on your skin. Sometimes you wonder if it's time to **** what was growing within instead of watching your outsides lessen to thin sheets, and yet you don't want to bother your best friends about things like this.
It's burdening, a load too heavy to lift, so you try practicing by doing all the carrying by yourself. So far you've managed, just a couple of scars and lashes, defined bones, suicidal thoughts and cuts too deep to mend. So far you haven't killed yourself, no, not yet but I hope you keep yourself together until someone sees the potential and beauty that you always thought were absent in you.
I hope one day they fill the spaces of your thoughts with contentment and happiness that you deserve because we are put into this earth to grow old with another.
This is the closest to heaven that you'll get, whether or not you believe that death is what ends a person's existence. It's just a shame to see that you think the life that was given to you is a way of wasting away, that it is a state of mind and everything you feel is not temporary.
I hope you've come to realize that it's okay not to fit in, that surely things will pass and you'll find the hand that fits perfectly. But never pass away too soon and early.
Never give into them, never let them take over, never let them make you do things that can hurt, because death is the only relief I wouldn't want you to have.

n.j.

We put together these words we think can suffice how much we feel about things

"I love you"
"You're beautiful"
"I miss you"
"I hate you"
"I don't ever want to see you again"

But what is that word? What is love? What does it mean? When we want to express words more than what they seem

It is not love when you look past and beyond that
It is not a word that can be found in a book, hidden in a shelf at the back of a library
It is not a combination of words nor letters put together
It is not a piece of paper filled with paragraphs back-to-back,
It is not a question of whether, who loves who most

It does not exist

It is not a lyrical embodiment
It is not ink
It is not printed
But it is here somewhere, tucked underneath our skin
It is a feeling, a tingle, a chill to the bone
It is an action expressed
It is art
It is me and you who are worth

But no matter how deep we dig
No matter how much we chase the sun and the moon
No matter how many offerings we think are enough to prove

Nothing will ever be enough to express the words we have for each other,
And me, for you

n.j.

We are all born human beings
Born with hearts half filled
And fingers separated
Sealed lips meant for smiles
And eyes blinded at birth
Yet we grow to realize
That we are beings that are worth
More than the flaws that we are
And the scars that we have
The loneliness we succumb to
The sadness we abuse
We are human beings
Whose hearts are are yet to be filled
Fingers left to be intertwined with another
And eyes yet to see the love
We truly deserve
And that one heart
We are made for
That other

n.j.

"Live your life" they said
Maybe one day I'll stop writing about death
Maybe one day I'll have my scars tattooed over so I wouldn't have to look at them with regret
Maybe one day I'll look into lining out my life with colors instead of shades of malice that I inflict on myself
That my life is not a big misadventure but rather a puzzle that I have yet to piece together
5, 10, 20 years from now, I'll wonder why I never celebrated my 18th birthday
I'll wonder why I never smiled at that one friend who said "hi"
I'll wonder why I never kissed my parents 'I love you' until our last goodbyes
I will think back and remember as I sit by a window, drinking coffee or smoking a cigarette,
Gazing into the backyard, wondering where time went, and why summer quickly turned into winter
I will listen to the house breathe, while my loved ones are in deep sleep
I will be old enough to know what life is all about and maybe I'll look back and not have a single hint of regret,
But chances are that will be unlikely to happen
26, 30, 38, maybe I'll be older or less
I hope I will stand in that room and appreciate the walls, the furniture and the growing pile of books
That my lungs will still function and my hands will still be able to write words and move
And most of all, for my heart to continue beating, to love a person who deserves no less
I will have come this far with my life sorted and my troubles dissolved
I was once young, I had a knife and a choice, and I will be glad that I did not **** myself

n.j.

rainbow pills and broken filters
tips and pockets filled with wine
breath so bitter, lips so broken
digging nails and brittle smiles
first light viewing with ticking wrists
5 am to smoking hills
bedded greens surround our feet
fading in with the best company

(n.j.)

Sunday, August 23, 2015 9:15AM

Today I left with my bags unpacked.
My room was a display of clutter, just like the thoughts in my head,
And the mess I refused to sweep under my bed.
I apologize for having to leave at such short notice,
For not informing you and for departing as the dishes towered,
And as the chores multiplied into a list made for one to get rid of.
I made sure that I would keep things that I saw as they were,
Maybe somehow you would remember me by the mess and what occurred.
That I did not have everything figured out, that I was still your little girl.
To the friends I talked, the best friends I poured my heart out,
And to the people who walked, passed me as I cloaked my thoughts,
I'm sorry for leaving you hanging, for not explaining and for not answering,
For not picking up the phone and replying to text messages.
By now, I guess you should be used to it,
That I have been practicing this magic trick where I disappear.
Maybe tonight, I will walk down this road,
And actually feel my shoulders move with ease.
My fingers will not curl from carrying the heavy load, not anymore,
And my soles will feel the warmth of the asphalt concrete,
Instead of the tiles where my slits and scars were formed.
I will be away for awhile, let's say it was a trip, unannounced,
And I was not able to prepare beforehand.
I am just following where they are taking me,
Whether it's in another city, country or a place of free.
Just remember that, what will be, will be.
Whether or not I will return from this journey.

n.j.

loneliness is my best friend
so far, she's the only one who has stuck for so long
while the others up and left

n.j.

When I was younger I thought it would take forever to reach the age as many as the fingers of my hands
But the next thing I knew, I was counting the number of figs I ate for the day, gave food to stray cats, chased the moon and wondered if my flashlight would ever reach the night skies
But then I realized I had toes and started counting again until I had 2 left
I discovered that the moon was farther into the sky and beyond reach
I flew across the globe and started living a life I did not forsee,
And I still wonder if those stray cats are ever fed properly or if they are given the love that they need
I found out that flashlights are used for the dark to brighten up a path unseen,
And not to be wasted on the infinite sky with bright stars that don't need light to be perceived

I am older, a little bit wiser, a whole lot more shy but heart warmer than ever, yet I will never stop gazing at the night sky and counting my toes and fingers, wondering if I could ever turn back time

n.j.

I need to be saved
And wake up in someone else's arms
Feeling the absoluteness of security and love
Whether be covered in tattoos or scars
I'll accept you wholeheartedly
You're every embrace and flaw
Every feature I fall in love with
And everything else in between

I promise you this

But in return would you accept
Someone in need of saving?
Someone as ****** up as me?
Someone covered in detailed flaws
And darkened scars
From thighs to wrists?

n.j.

My eyes narrow down the space in front of me
Everything I see is irrelevant, despite them being my view and vision

I cannot stop looking at you

You are the image at the corner of my eye
The exhibit displayed at the end of the hall
The voice that drowns out every ventilated word
The glance I catch looking at my side profile
Yet I assume it’s the pretty girl beside me you aim for

I want to see you

But you are just a back facing me
A tempting glimpse at the nape
A friendly smile
And a hand opening the door for the next

You are several glances at a time
Someone I can look at,
But someone I know, I can’t call mine

n.j.