I’m not good at being forward
I have this habit of becoming disordered
I let my emotions change the color of my sleeve
In my aspirations I hope to find belief
I walk through jungles and rainforests
Once in a while I see through the canopy
Into the skies of my memories
And request that stars dance to the rhythm of us
I keep them alive to avoid the gathering of dust
My memories, caught in the Pensieve of your eyes
Have ignored all the times I told myself lies
I may not be your ideal Superman
But I’d accept Peter Pan if you’ll go with me to Neverland
I’ve rarely been so captivated by a girl
Sure, Zooey Deschanel is quirky in New Girl
And Emma Watson bewitched me from the start
Anna Kendrick was perfect in Pitch Perfect
Alex Morgan is the luckiest 13 I’ve ever seen
But I choose you! To fill my canteen
You quench my thirst when the loneliness dries me
I was not made to walk in a desert
My heart is an amphibian
Living like a Floridian in the ice-cold tundra we call Rexburg
You still need the sun, no matter how much it snows
I’ll trudge on in the jungle; dormant in the night
I’ll carry on with you in mind, until the time is right
Once I’ve faced death, or even a spider
Then, I think I’ll top the greats; George of the Jungle, Aslan, Mogly, Tarzan, Batman, Peter Pan, Harry Potter, Genghis Kahn, Michael… Jackson or Jordan
They’re all kings and I’ll be in their league
As I shake off the fatigue and find courage in you
To make it through the awkward moment of simply saying
“You’re a real kind of gorgeous”
In that chorus, played on my rhythm of heartbeats
I found my way out of the back streets
From deep in the jungle I’ve come to know as Fear
A jungle that disappears when your presence is near
Sometimes I have to stop walking, stop thinking
I feel like I’m on the verge of something spectacular
Anything normal might ruin that

I never understood “made in God’s image” until I saw her.
Anyone who’s seen her has higher expectations for what heaven looks like.

We’re both sensitive enough to know what love feels like,
and reasonable enough to know that it can be broken.

The first time you use a new toothbrush is nothing like the first time you kiss a girl,
But I still love them both.

Her laugh is a paradox; an outsider would think she either just said the cleverest thing ever or she wishes she could retract it faster than it was said.
Only I know it’s simply because it’s beautiful. It’s easily my favorite language.

I have considered wearing a wiretap so I could go back and listen to all of our conversations again. And I hope that it picked up her heartbeat. She told me, it’s beating exactly like life should sound like.

She offers to iron any wrinkled clothes. I don’t have any. But I have a wrinkled heart.
I thought it was made into origami but it’s just a wadded ball that missed the wastebasket.

The way she dances to hip-hop shows her versatility,
yet you can tell she doesn’t do this every day; but she still dances.

I’m almost too nervous to hug her - knowing it will have to end.
Whenever I let go, I feel like I made a mistake.

Her voice trails off into silence,
like an hourglass that’s trying to hold itself together.

I like that “click-clack” of her boots.
It lets me know I’m next to someone really going places.

She goes to the mini mart with me even when she doesn't want to get anything,
besides more time together.

I find myself in the crowds of Central Park
The trees look taller than last time I was here
I’ve never been to New York

I’ve shed at least 54 tears in the last 12 minutes
I count them as they drop
Like seconds ticking off my clock
I can’t wait for tomorrow because
Maybe then I’ll feel better

The grass is green under the snow
I dug down to make sure
It took me 33 minutes to touch bottom
The grass was dead
It hasn’t seen the sun in at least 3 weeks

Maybe it is safer to be alone
I know for sure it’s easier to be alone
At least it was when I didn’t know what good company felt like
Now I can’t even read without feeling eyes over my shoulder

I don’t fit in here or there because of my odd mentality
I’m not mental, but my thoughts will soon be detrimental
I take a shower to feel better – it didn’t work
I go on a run - I didn’t make it back

I finally wake up; still crying
6 feet under and my heart finally calms
The dirt is fresh on my palms
I dig my own grave over and over

26 angels have arrived for orientation
Taken from the world without hesitation
Heaven is a little more crowded:
There’s a place already prepared
At least tonight those who’ve passed,
Will rest in God’s care

Buried under heartbreak, Newtown still stands
Worlds changed, for this kid and the next
“Kids, 2 +2 is…” BANG -
Children were unable to protect,
Themselves or their friends

Gunshots filled the air
Instead of love that should be there

Flags at half-staff, leave us half-hearted
Soo many, like too many,
Will spend their Christmas
With families torn apart
And no New Years resolution
Can make up for the inhuman execution

May we ever look to love unconditionally.

A lot of people ask me why I pray so much
They say, “I see you with your arms folded
Rather often.”
It takes me a minute to realize that
I’ve just been holding myself for so long
My own hugs are the only embraces
Keeping my emotions on the inside

When I do pray to God I’m not self-embraced
Reaching into the air, my arms look
Like I kicked the game winning field goal in the Super Bowl
I ask a lot of “why’s” and “how’s”
I beg a lot of “please Lord, please”
Courage to endure comes on my knees

Life is the greatest struggle of all
Struggles are journeys that aren’t always pleasant
My self-embraces keep me together
God’s strength moves me forward
So raise your arms and kick
Your game winner

You’re the kind of girl
That makes heaven regret
Ever letting you go
It was the biggest mistake
Since She took a bite of the fruit

You’re the kind of girl
To make honorable men better
And scoundrels too
You’re one of the angles God personally knows
He sent you to save the world
From hopelessness and
Lack-luster dreams

You’re the kind of girl
Makes an optimist a realist
Because you’re really here
It’s not just hope in his heart

You’re the kind of girl*
Movies are made of,
Flowers are bought for,
And lives are lived

The world is cold and your teeth chatter
from the ice that bites your tears
bullets fly sharply, aimed low
whispering darkly around your ears
hearts encased in unjust frost
they cower behind narrow walls
laughing salty, they cast their stones
to bruise your heart, careful not to fall
from their pedestals of self-inflicted pride
it’s hailing evil eyes and apathy
do they take pleasure in the blood they draw
or are they so blinded, they don’t see?

the rain in your eyes falls down my face
blood stains my skin from the arctic knives
plunged deep in your back by sadistic sneers
they taunt and jab at your will to survive
i hope you feel my arms hold you close
as i try to warm your soul and fight
against these brutal waves. i’ll protect
you from this stinging rain and narcissistic night
it’s our choice and we won’t sink
Their claws extend to entrap me too
but when their lips contort in accusations, i laugh
Because i hear them, but i’m only listening to you

Howl me
cowardly
scream it in my ear
story me
bore me
bury me
try to scare me
You’re livid and I’ve lived
with no petty injections till now
you hate
i don’t relate
you bare your teeth and i’ll smile
badger me
bother me
regret it
forget it
just dam your overflow
i’m tired of your wounded levies
cover me
smother me
but wait, please, till i’m gone
Rain it
Drain it
drown me
insanity
your annoying tickle on my ear-drum
save your breath
spill on me in your imagination
because i don’t listen anymore

The day I buried
your memories,
you sent me a postcard
with your love written
in blood. And despite
the pain you've brought to me,
my hands couldn't fathom
how to drop this last piece of you
into the grave.

You left no return address.
No way for me to slap
you with the stinging
knowledge of how thoughtless
I considered you to be.
So instead I filled the
back of a Polaroid
with everything I never said,
and placed it in the postman's hand.

I told him that if
he ever saw the person
from the picture, and
placed the Polaroid in
his hand, that I would
pay him in stories about
a broken life.

Or if he preferred,
fifty one dollar bills.