In your arms I felt comfort.
In your arms I was when it thundered.
In your arms I felt security.
In your arms felt like eternity.
In your arms I liked to stay.
In your arms I’d spend all day.
In your arms I felt more than loved.
In your arms I got a sense of trust.
In your arms I held you back.
In your arms I kissed your neck.
In your arms was the very best thing.
Being in your arms meant everything.

The worst type of critic
Is the critic with in me.
I always judge my work
Even if it's written perfectly.

Just like other critics,
I cannot silence this one.
But it takes a toll on my work,
It takes out all the major fun.

I love to write,
I love to share my ideas.
But I think all my work is crud
Even if it's beloved by my peers.

This makes the delete button
Oh so popular.
The inner criticism is choking me
He's got his hands against my jugular.

But I love what I do,
And I'll fight to the death,
Even if my work does ****,
At least I tried my best.

I have to remember,
The best is what matters,
Practice makes perfect
I just have to continue climbing that ladder.

It'll be a tremendous feeling,
When I reach the top,
Because I'll know no critics
Even myself,
Made me stop what I love doing.

Writing.

There's a difference between looking and
seeing.

You can look at me,
but I wonder more
what you see.

Brown eyes,
brown hair,
barely more than
five feet tall;
my feet are small,
as are my hands;
my teeth are straight,
thanks to braces;
shoulders been broad
since I swam,
but my figure
is much less athletic
than it used to be.

I could look
at myself
and point out
a million flaws.
My forehead is much
too big for my liking,
my cheeks are too red,
my top lip is so
skinny it barely
exists,
and, if you ask me,
my waist line
could afford
to look a little more
like my upper lip.

My looks are far from perfect.
Not saying I'm hideous,
but I don't look
in the mirror
to find
America's Next Top Model,
or anything close,
at least not until
my face is perfectly painted,
flaws concealed under
a combination
of moderately priced makeup and
a rather crafty hand.

When I look,
physical imperfections
and inadequacies
stare back at me.
My overly expressive
light brown eyes
give me an
omnipotent glance,
and they beg me to
turn away,
to close them,
to put them to sleep
so that I can
see.

When I see,
it's like a whole new me.
I'm a human being
whose physical flaws
are diminished by
an overly giving, compassionate
heart,
a brain
filled of logic & curiosity,
a chest
swollen full of
endless giggles,
a throat
storing sarcastic words mixed in with
empathetic phrases;
down within me
I see
the woman
who still at times
looks and feels
more like the girl
whose heart has been broken
too many times to count
but still, despite her
womanly pessimism,
yearns optimistically
to love again.
Within me I see
a woman with confidence
and also insecurity,
ambition and fear,
tranquility and rage,
hope and despair;
I see dreams,
wishes,
prayers,
meditation;
I see a beautifully
complex soul
trapped in a world
that begs it for
simplicity and
conformity.

I guess when I look
I only get a glimpse
of the body
that feels the need
to be perfect,
to work out a little more,
to weigh a little less,
to fix her hair the right way,
and to dress in the right clothes.
The self-conscious me
who still fears being weird,
who cares what others think,
who worries if my parents are proud.

But when I see,
out comes the woman
who says
**** the status quo,
I can't be put in a box,
I'm beautiful the way I am,
and nothing stands
between
me
and achieving
my
dreams.

When I look,
I don't see,
but when I see,
I see me.

I feel the brim of my glasses graze my nose,
and I know,
even once I take 'em off,
my vision
is better
than ever.

Those thick thighs
are a sight for sore eyes
But your best feature
has to be your brown eyes.

and this aint a lie,
When I say im in love with you.
We haven't talked much,
but baby im drawn to you.

I miss you so much,
from the second you leave,
I can't stand you go home
to that ****** bag steve.

When im the guy
you so rightfully deserve.
I don't mean to be cocky
but you said it first.

but i'll wait for the day
When you come back and say,
That you wanna be with me
until our final days.

Sadly, you never did,
I was just another kid,
Who you wanted to ****
and then called it quits.

Such a hippocrite
After running your lips
about how much ******* one over
makes you wanna flip.

But thats exactly what you did
and don't even try to deny it,
Because if you do I got ammo
to call you out on your ****.

So whatever,
you're just another girl.
Another human being passing me
in this ****** up world.

You've come and gone,
And I'm moving on.
Don't even try to chat me,
I'm way too strong.

Your eyes speak words
Your mouth can't
or is afraid to.

Your smile says more
Than a picture.
A prize winning photo.

Your hair speaks comfort
I wanna spend eternity
In your arms.

My heart beats
endlessly
for your love,
In not sure i have.

May 13, 2014                             8:21 PM

Would you take me back if we had one long talk?
Or would you continue not to listen and carry on your walk?
If we had proper closure, and maybe settled things,
I could prove to you how you were and still are the girl of my dreams.

I did a **** job the first time, but everyone deserves a second try.
Though, if it truly isn’t meant to be, I want a proper goodbye.
Not the **** hug we shared on that warm night last summer,
Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but it was quite a ******.

I was moving up north the very next day,
Chillin for only 15 minutes was not okay.  
I want to prove to you I’m the proper guy,
Take me back and I promise to never make you cry.