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.

The touch of your skin
Holding me close
Pulling me in
The color of love
The color of disaster
The color of pain
The color of life
But in reality the color is blank
For those to fill in
A different meaning to each and every person
Who learns their color on their own
You brought the color of green
A mix of yellow and blue
Yellow is the happiness
And blue is the emotions
Of sadness and despair
In a blank canvas world
You bring me saturation.

© Regan

I almost lost you,
I really could’ve too.
You wanted me to tell you,
Something I simply couldn’t do.
I hated how I let you,
Walk right over me,
That really hurt,
Can’t you see?
Threatening our friendship,
Over a petty little thing.
Trying to destroy me,
But you can’t,
You can’t hurt me.
You have already
Broken me enough,
But I’ll tell you,
I’m pretty tough.
You hit me, jabbed me,
Told me you could trust me.
Just because I didn’t tell you
What you simply couldn’t see?
I almost lost you,
And it would’ve been for the better,
Because you’re like,
A loose string on a sweater.
but what i’ve found out,
I really should’ve forgotten her.

i watch the colorful animals
trot along my vivid imagination.
the red and white stripes,
and gold lined decorations.
around, around, around once more,
but in fact it never stops.

my bones get weaker
but my heart is eager.
somehow, the carousel
keeps spinning,
through my dull life.
the red has darkened,
the white, not-so-white anymore,
the gold just ever so slightly tarnished.

my bones tired,
my heart has lost its fire.
the carousel slightly turning.
the red is now hardly visible.
the white is stained black.
and it was if gold was never there.

i found out this “carousel”
is not a “carousel”
but a clock,
counting my seconds,
while continuing to spin,
until now—
it has stopped.

I have a lonesome heart,
and I’m not afraid to admit it.
My friends think I’m boy-crazy.
But truth is, I’m just lonely.
Having a lonesome heart is miserable.
You feel empty and low
And once it feels complete
It’s broken again.
Nobody can love me,
And if they do,
I cannot accept it.
It feels unnatural
And strange,
Being sad, insane, and alone.

Too worked up over
The tiniest thing.
She laid her hand down
On my back,
To say everything will be okay.
She held me close,
While I bawled,
She didn’t judge me
For expressing emotion.
More people
Should accept
other’s emotions,
Because how would they know
What they’re going through.
The moral of this experience,
Is to accept the doubt.

love is like Pride & Prejudice,
you might believe
someone isn’t the one,
but you may end up
falling in love with them.

and that’s the love i want.

Cold, salty droplets
They’re always showing up
I can’t control them.

© Regan

When I was little,
I thought the world was on my side.
Now that I’m older, I’ve realized
It’s me against the world.
Society is going to try,
To tempt me, to hurt me, to destroy me.
And so far I’ve tried ignoring it.
But now, I know it’s out to get me.
As a child, the world would hold me close,
And told me it would keep me safe.

The world has opened my eyes,
Drowned me, and made me realize
I can only trust myself.
It’s alright, I’m okay.
Or I’m not, maybe I’m insane.
Maybe the world is just the world,
And I just can’t accept it.
Maybe I’m searching for a deeper meaning
To my pain.

© Regan

The look of your eyes when you look at the stars reflects so much hope. When you grab my hand and pull me closer it feels perfect, as if the stars were aligned in that moment. When you hold my hand and guide me to god-knows where, I feel needed.
The touch.
The smell.
The adrenaline rushing through our heads.
And the moment is gone. I've woken up, from a fantasy that only occurs in my head.
Gasp of morning air flows through my lungs as reality hits again.
And I know it is only a fantasy my mind wanders to every so often.

© Regan

i knew a boy with brown hair
like flowing locks of a mare.
we talked and talked
i was the one he stalked.
we grew close
until we both became morose.
he changed his hair to black
and let my feelings crack.
he stole my joy,
and i let a boy
change me so much
by just a simple touch.
naive is what i was
and that is ‘cause
he changed
and deranged.
I was left alone
i even tried calling his phone,
but nothing would work.
he passed my gloomy face with a smirk.
now i know
to keep my feelings low
so a black haired boy
will not turn me into a toy.

Anything can be a lullaby,
if you try hard enough.
Ring around the Rosie,
is about death.

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 don’t really like myself,
It’s true I don’t.
I don’t stand out.
I’m not any sort-of special.
I’m normal.
I don’t have a quality
that makes me stand out.
I change my hair color,
I wear makeup,
And I change who I am.
I try on clothes that make me cry,
because my body isn’t perfect.
I pick out new foundations,
To cover my flaws better.
I give into others,
To make them happy.
I have lost myself, and have found myself.
Still, through all I’ve gone through,
I still don’t like myself.
I feel undeserving of anything,
Useless, worthless, and terrible.

I’m sorry self, you shouldn’t be treated this way.

© Regan

Covering all that you are.
It makes each and every person
We destroy our bodies
Tattoos, piercings, needles.
Why do we destroy the thing
That’s been there since day one?

What do we do?
We destroy it more.
Until we rot in our graves.
Covered in destruction
Of what we’ve always known.

From picking at your fingertips
To slitting our wrists.
Destroying ourselves
For pain and pleasure
But we all end up six feet under anyways,
What is the big deal?

Express yourself.
Get that nose piercing,
Get that tattoo.
Do what you want,
As long as you don’t regret it.
Your flesh, your story.

A skipping child approached by an older woman,
This child was aware the woman had approached,
and ignored her.

“Now come here, honey”
The lady said shakingly.
The girl approached, kind of worried.

“I’m going to give you all of my knowledge”
The woman started,
“Of what I’ve learned in this world”

The girl sat down,
legs crossed, eyes wide and alert.

The woman began
“Sweetheart, cherish everything you have now,
And don’t forget to live”

The girl thought about what the woman had said, as she walked home that day.
“Live?” She thought,
“But I already am!”

As the girl grew older,
had her own experiences,
And children, she still kept thinking about what that woman said.

Now she’s the same age as the woman,
who she spoke to at such a young age.
She began to wonder “Have I lived?”
She thought about a deeper meaning
To in which living is.

“I have everything I’ve ever wanted” she stated,
“And nothing that I don’t”.

The next morning, the kids who lived in the home across the street, were out playing tag.
She approached them, and kindly stated
“Now I’m going to teach you everything I know” and she then said,
“Cherish everything you have now, and don’t forget to live”
just like the woman who she met many years ago.

Sadness is when you are up at 2 a.m.,
And you are greeted with loneliness.
Sadness is when it turns from
An emotion to a state of mind.
Sadness is a conqueror,
Of how you live and feel.
Sadness will bother you,
Until you don’t feel bothered anymore.
Sadness is a drug,
Once received, you are becoming it.
But, what is sadness?
What truly is it?

let me charm you
with my words
let my vocabulary
wrap around
your beautiful mind.
from every description
of imagery
to my sorrows and worries,
let me charm you
with my words.
ill paint you a picture
in your head
with just words
that you read.
charmer of words,
that i am,
let me feed your lack
of creativity and drive.
let me not only charm you,
but your mind.

Cobalt, periwinkle, turquoise, baby.
Name a color and I have been it.
Some days it’s more pastel,
others’ it’s midnight.

She’s been swimming more
But she didn’t learn this way
Learned by drowning

I feel as if I drive myself insane;
Not for a particular reason, that is.
Only a slightest clue remains—
I dislike what I do, but that’s not it.
Insanity is just a loss,
Losing what keeps us sane.
When common sense is just tossed.
It’s something that we have learned to tame.
By creating vices, habits, and by coping,
Insanity is brief, to those who hide—
It creates emotions, from smiling to moping,
But at least, I can say, I tried.
Sometimes, you have to fight your mind,
Just to relieve the insanity that lurks.

As I am from Kentucky,
Does it even matter to me?
Only my future children
Will care where I’m from.

Soon forgotten of me.
Just as ancestors before..
I will just be a speck in what’s to come
Unimportance.

I’m meaningless
What difference do I make?
In a world we’re babies are born constantly
And immortality undiscovered

Legends before me, will soon be forgotten
Is life even worth it?
Does my existence matter?
What is the point of this...?

To those who really know me
Will only be the ones to miss me
When it is my time
To leave.

© Regan

Fix this emotion
Many things cause this pain
It sneaks up on me.

© Regan

I stood on the edge
Watching the water
As I was approached
By a family “friend”
He said
“Can’t you swim?”
I replied with
“No, I have never tried”
He grabbed my hair
And was about to
Push me in
And said
“Drown”

I fought the water
I fought for life
I would never let
That man be right
I flipped my legs
And swatted the water
Until drowning
Wasn’t the matter
The man looked at me
With disbelief
That a little girl
Could teach Herself
not to stand for
Death itself.

© Regan

it’s painful,
extremely torturing,
that the ocean,
is 657.7 miles away.

the only place
that fills me
with such honest joy
is the beach.

it’s spiritual,
being in a gorgeous place,
filled with hot sand
and cold water.

instead of being
in the most wonderful place,
i’m here,
stuck in my room.

my room,
even if it’s just kentucky,
is filled with nautical
decorations.

it all just reminds me
where i’d rather be.
i’ve surrounded myself
with the ocean.

~•~

god i miss the ocean

A
Droplet
Falling from
Tired eyes when
Least expected, they
Appear like no other.
These tears are cold
And they pour out
Very slowly, but
Are the most
Painful.

Driving through an untouched place,
The modern era has kept it’s distance,
Mother-nature has taken over.

We arrive to a grassy area,
Only the trees to provide shade,
We strike a match.

We walk aware of the beauty around us,
We walk in an unmodernized place,
No shops, buildings, and factories.

The urban areas have purpose,
But sometimes, just sometimes,
Rural feels more like home.

© Regan

Take one slow breath.
Breathe through your nose.
You are overreacting, it's just change.
"You don't understand!"
I am leaving everything and everyone I've ever known.
The streets I've walked.
The bruises I've gotten from your hands.
The broken-heart you've given me.
I can't just breathe.
Not even a breath.
You see, you've lived everywhere, almost as if you've never had a home.
This has been my only home,
the only place I can tell you the streets like the back of my hand.
You can't forget your hometown, unless you've never had one.
The people.
The small bakery on the corner.
The library across the street.
Those are some of the things I will never forget. Don't tell me to take a breath,
when you have never been through this.
You hypocrite.

© Regan

A young girl—
Out too late—
Running through a quiet urban city
searching for the sounds
That have been playing in her head

The radio gives her no help—
Those songs aren’t what she’s looking for
She craves and older more mature sound
The sound that only the dark night possesses

She can almost feel the sound,
It’s strength is almost feeding into her
She takes the bait
And makes her way to the old pub

She’s amazed by the Saxophone
And the blues lifting the air
She lets them fill her mind
And numb her surroundings

“Oh, sounds, why haven’t we met before?”
She cries out.
But the sounds keep playing
And drowning out her thoughts.
She now knows where she belongs.

© Regan

Picture me in a crowd, looking for you.
Picture me in a dress, sitting by you.
Picture me in the grass, holding hands with you.
Picture me in your arms, loving you.
Picture me shocked, looking at you.
Picture me sad, not because of you.
Picture me in a gown, marrying you.
Picture me yours, that’s all I want from you.

Picture you, loving me.
Picture you, holding me.
Picture you, with me.

Picture you without me,
Picture me without you.
Just picture me.

© Regan

Our coughing laughs
seem endless,
though we know our ends are near.
A puff or two
off the cigar
under muffled breaths.
A smoke-filled room
and memories
afloat.
Old times
and old pals
reunited with these puffs.
Memories from long ago
when times were simple
and life was vibrant.
Now it seems as if we’ve
completely forgotten
what it felt to be young.
Young and smoking
a meaningless cigarette.
Older and breathing in
a cigar,
like it’s the last one
we’ll ever have.
Time truly
changes
us.

The burning sand sliding in between your toes.
The breeze making you feel weightless.
The salty-smell filling the air.
Seagulls flying above.
Once touching the refreshing sand in the ocean,
You’ve become it.

© Regan

Holding together my thoughts
Keeping them where they should be.

As my messy, disorganized mind causes chaos,
My small twisted friends,
Keep my mind going,
While pushing my thoughts further.

They’re small and lost easily,
But once they’re gone,
The train of thought is off it’s tracks.

The wild thinking of
Stress and worry,
Come back to where
They had left before.

Thank you my steel wire helpers,
I would be a mess without you.
Thank you for organizing my thoughts,
Thank you my paper clips.

© Regan

‘tis the season,
of coldness.
my frost-bitten
figertips are sick
of the cold.
my red nose
and rosy cheeks
burning from the snow.
i wish i could drown
in the hot-cocoas
i long for.
my shivering arms
and cold toes
just want to be warm.
the darkness of the winter
makes the darkness
in my mind
find it’s way back.
spark me a flame—
thaw my cold heart
and hands.
remind me of warm thoughts,
the summer sun,
the burning of hot sand—
ugh, there’s only
snowflakes and frost.
i guess i’ll deal until
the warmness
finds its way back.

Say I’m only yours
And please be honest, baby.
Don’t play with my heart.

© Regan

The brightest light is shining through
hand sewn curtains
coming from a street-light
that stares me down while
I try to sleep.
The little red dot on my TV
stares me down
as insomnia carries
my weightless body
back to the thoughts of yesterday.
My thoughts are pointless
at 2 a.m.
worrying about what I'll wear
or what people will think of it.
The walls hold me in
a cage of senseless perception
as I try to escape
to my far-off land
of dreams.
The monsters under my bed
and the ones in my closet
snicker and giggle
at my brain that is
fearing if I'll ever drift
into sleep.
What I've realized is that
the monsters under my bed
are not there,
but in my head.

delicate complexion and
precisely lined lips;
a kind of beauty
that catches everyone’s
attention.
curly hair
and a button nose;
that everyone
adores.
a cheeky smile and
a slight blush;
can blow anyone’s
breath away.
a kind soul and
a happy heart;
is truly stunning.
beauty can only do so much,
because looks fade,
and wrikles appear.
someone’s soul
is much more
appealing
to the eye.

~•~

don’t forget
that kind
of
BEAUTY