In the End—
it might be good.
I’ll know my past was lived.
I might be happy,
but I could be sad.
Who knows?
Do we give up when we reach the end?
What if we never reached the end—
would progress be existent?
We finish a book
or a test,
and we move on,
because we have more to progress
otherwise.
I guess we may never reach an actual end.
But how would we know if it was
The End?

take me back to the days,
when all we did was make paper planes.
take me back to my previous emotions,
happiness and joy overload.
take me back to my old behavior,
being sweet and helpful.

~•~

paper planes soar slowly,
just like time used to.
the seconds feel shorter, hours fly by,
unlike my paper planes.
let my time feel longer.

paper planes remind me of when i was little.
my family loved me more.
the sky felt higher, the ground felt longer.
the world felt calmer and less chaotic.

paper planes show up again.
when i unwrap a piece of gum,
it becomes a plane.
when i toss scrap paper into the trash bin,
it becomes a plane.

~•~

i wish i treasured my childhood longer.

you want to touch me
and grab me.
but I do not want to be touched.
you force me into believing
that you love me,
but you do not.
I want someone who
loves my mind,
my imagination, my dreams, my thoughts.
I want someone
who loves my personality,
my laugh, my jokes, my smile
I do not want to be treated as a toy,
I do not deserve it.
I am a human being,
with feelings, thoughts, and emotions.
Do not tell me how
much you want to touch me.
Tell me how
you would want to get to know me.
For I am not a toy—
do not think about treating me as such.
Pull my hair from out of my face,
wipe the tears from my eyes,
tell me you love me, if you do,
and do not make me cry.
For I am not a toy—
I am a girl.

I have been attracted to you for a while
but didn’t think you felt the same.
but infact you might even like me more.
you think i’m beautiful and special indeed.
you’ve trapped me in your heart and blue eyes
you tell me you were to shy to tell me,
but i was too shy to tell you.
do you love me?
do I love you?
do you love me afterall?
you say things that make me blush.
and tell me what i want to hear.
you call me baby and your love.
things really did work out, didn’t they.
I’ve missed this feeling of love.
i guess you just might love me after all.

I've lost my feeling
I’ve lost my rhythm
my poetry feels weak.
I cannot get that connection
to what i used to have.
They were filled with passion
and desire.
My poetry had more emotion,
something you could feel.
The words would flow and paint imagery.
The emotion was raw and real.
I’ve tried so hard to get a feel.
now all i feel is numb.
I thought my poetry was alive
but now it all seems dumb.
I want that emotion
I want that spark.
People would connect with what i wrote,
but now i cannot make a mark.
I wish i had more ideas,
to create the inevitable,
something very creditable.
but all i am is numb.
and my work isn’t what is was.
I’ve lost my emotion
I’ve just lost what i had.