When the leaves fell, they fell like bombs.
Crashing to the ground noiselessly
But he could feel the impact of each delicate leaf hitting the soft autumn ground
And when he looked up at the trees, stretching their bare branches towards the sky,
He saw young Vietnamese children, reaching out to their mothers
Who lay lifeless
Slumped against the walls of empty buildings
Once called home.
And when he closed his eyes to sleep at night
He was haunted by comrades
Who had fallen beside him
And left behind widows and children and lives
all in the name of democracy.

They say the wounds of war can never really heal.
I know yours didn't.
We won the war
But you lost yours
Were you contemplating surrender when you held that familiar friend in your hands?
A gun had once defended your life, but now it prepared to take it
Did you think about wives and children and sorrow?
Or were you simply thinking of the dead, autumn leaves falling from the branches?
You, too, died in autumn,
But you fell in spring.

keep her clenched in your fist for an hour
she'll give in
cramped places
do that to people
kick her hard
while she lies
in front of you
baring her innocence
she'll give up
and that's what you want
you want submittance
admittance
of futility
you want her to say
that she knew she couldn't win
that she couldn't fight
that she knew you'd win
you want her to admit

that she is
lesser

it's not going happen.
i won't admit anything to you
out my ****** teeth
you try so hard to hurt me
you go out of your way
you're a blowhard,
and i am not less than you
you are just hot air
i am solid
i am not
less than

depression. its a battle i once faught
not really, but thats what i once thought
the truth is, its never gonna leave me, cause its always gonna need me
i still get down and always will, so when i do, its always gonna feed me
the world wants me to fight it, to beat it away
to let it know that it has no place to stay
but thats not true, cause its a part of me
and accepting thats like paying the hardest fee
so taking a pill each morning might help me see things 'the right way'
but its still gonna surface, not like each day can be the bright day
i know thats it normal, and i'm leaning to embrace it
rather than fighting and pushing, trying to replace it
cause when i get down, man i fall through the floor
i lock my heart in a room, and it breaks down the door
emotions are living, they want to spread wings and soar
and i know thats its true, cause i feel them right to my core

he gives me butterflies the size of pterodactyls.
he makes me feel as if my name is safe within his lungs.
I don't know how to explain it, but there's something about him.
how cliche, I know.
but I love the way he breathes.
the way he holds his cigarette.

it didn't scare me when he told me he loved me after barely 3 weeks.
he was 16 drinks in, babbling, slurring.
but when he said it, he spoke so clearly.
sober thoughts.

I've never seen someone look at me like they've been waiting for me their whole life.

but his eyes have a certain innocence in them, and he can't hide from it.

his laughter whispers love letters.
the wind picks up his scent.

just how crazy young love can be.

somehow, I wish he were my first.
I wish I had never had feelings for anyone else,
because I have wasted feelings on other men when he deserves all of it.
all of me.

when I die, I want them I dust off my heart.
and only find his fingerprints.

Loving you is like an ice,
It's cold,hard,
and limpid.
I can see the real you,
But soon it melts.

Loving you is like a flower,
It blooms when it's autumn,
Sunlight penetrates the petals,
But soon it wilts.

Loving you is like a tissue,
it erases the tears,
brings the laughter,
But soon it torn,
drowned by the burden of love.

Loving you is like a book,
Those beautiful verses
are you.
But soon it ends with
a full stop.

Loving you is like a music,
rhythm rhymes.
the only thing I want to hear,
But soon the rhymes scatter.

The only thing I know
about loving you is,
Your smile is dangerous,
that I was stupid to fall
into them.


a.b

let me first say, i have absolutely no idea what i'm doing
and i don't really know what this is or where to start.

i am comprised of scratched porcelain and bad dreams -
made up entirely of half-hearted attempts at sanity,
countless unspoken "i need you's",
and ever-faltering faith in myself and those around me.

i am not a poet, or at least not a good one, i don't think.
i feel a lot of things, sometimes all at once -
other times i don't feel anything at all, which scares me beyond
a level of which i am capable of explaining to you.

i nearly jumped in front of a train in april of this year. i don't know why.
my feet ventured toward the platform before it had even registered
in my head that they were doing so. i heard my best friend speak my name,
and snapped out of the trance. not a lot of people know about that.

i've been in love a lot of times with a lot of different people.
i have a fear off falling but a tendency to jump from high places.
i don't read books as much as i used to, but i'm working on that.
i'm in love right now and it's really difficult but it's nice. i'm happy.

i grew up with five brothers, so i like to think that made me sort of tough.
(but i cry every time i see a deer or a possum on the side of the road.)
i don't smoke cigarettes anymore, partly because my father hates them,
partly because they remind me too much of someone who liked them more than he liked me.

i write a lot about people who i don't talk to or see anymore. they don't live in my heart,
but the curse of memory is more often than not unbreakable. i call it leftover poetry.
then again i don't consider any of my pitiful mutterings to be poetry. just a bunch of
raggedly strung together words that sometimes rhyme a little bit.

i used to want to die and i wrote a song about it that a lot of people really liked.
i don't want to die anymore. i will never show that song to my mother.
i am much more content with watching people talk than actually talking myself.
this piece of writing feels too personal and i don't think i like it, but i'm pretty sure
Eleanor Roosevelt said something about doing one thing every day that scares you.

m.f.