The glow of your back basking in the sun
Causes my heart to flutter and beat faster
There is no place I would faster run
My brain doesn’t calculate what’s going to come after
All I can fathom is a life in which I can
Live in your glory, with each touch and every glance
You remind me that this is such a marvelous trance.
Come back to me, my love.
From the moment, we met
I could tell you were sent from above.
Our fate was something more than just a bet
I saw you differently, in a light that
Melted my heart and froze my eyes simultaneously
With your arms wrapped me, I believed I would never fall flat
I know that the way that we love is dangerously
Likes fires glowing and burning until we’re no more
The finale is coming soon, I’m more than aware
But imagine just for that one moment, we could soar
Before we fall, someone should have warned me to beware
Of a love like yours.
To save me from the crushing call of the floor.
That would leave me beyond miserable and sore.
With our heads swirling in affection
Too far out in space, and our bodies too empty to even move.
We waited too long to phase out our reflections.
There was a reason why my mother told me she did not approve.
Because you were far too beautiful,
Far too perfect, and yet not insanely unlike usual.
The pieces that you left behind, stain the linoleum tiles
As you leave to another girl, enchanting her with your smiles.
I promise myself to not fall again, but it’s all a facade,
Hopefully before my name on your lips is forgot,
My heart will be rebuilt, and I will find someone new
Your abandonment inspires the disappearance of a heavenly view.

Snow falls quickly and harshly to the ground.
Sort of how your fist grazed my face earlier.
I place a cigarette up to my lips and take a deep inhale,
Instantly the nicotine begins to course through my veins
I’m praying to the gods that this love doesn’t fail.
As I feel the memories escaping my brain.
The mirror last night told me that you were lying.
So, I smashed it into a million pieces, falling to the floor.
The entire process was almost strangely gratifying.
The glass is stained with a dark reddish hue.
It’s my blood that protects our apartment.
Because I know your girlfriends certainly will, not.
I’m seeking those beautiful nights
With your arms lovingly wrapped around my waist
Instead of your forceful hands throwing me onto the bed.
Loneliness stings more than your foolish ways.
I repeat this over and over again.
The shadows of our love hang heavy and low.
As if it has already evaporated from this moment.
You have pushed me to the breaking point.
To an alleyway outside in the cold.
Where I give in and take puffs of a single cigarette
The choking and coughing feels so far from elegant
But by this point I don’t give a ****.
I need something to cope with the pain
Something to erase your name
Anything to get you out of my brain.
The smoke that falls out of my mouth
Peacefully disrupts the cold bitter attitudes.
I spend this time kissing a final farewell
To the innocence that used to exist.
My heart aches wholly for the girl that
Used to believe in a love like this.
I know you are cheating, lying, behind my back
But instead of screaming and crying.
I take a deep breath.
You never deserved the love I so freely gave to you.
So, I try to walk away. But it’s no use.
I’m called again to your side, to your bed.
Without a single breath, you lie to me as if I mean nothing.
As if I’m worth nothing.
I’m starting to believe, and to fall again.
Who is going to pick up the broken pieces of my heart?
I dream of the day that your door slams
A day where we no longer exist.
Where the fire that burned for so long has finally been extinguished
As I throw the stub of my cigarette to the floor
I dream of the day that I grow a semblance of a backbone.
The world around me blurs into vision that hazy and blue
I just want to leave and to experience life on my own.
But maybe leaving you is a fate that’s too good to be true.

"bleed·ing heart"
a person considered to be dangerously softhearted
feeling sorry for everything and everyone and giving in to emotions quickly.

“My heart bled today.”
Nothing new, same old routine, same old unremarkable usual thing.
They say over and over, Repetition is key. The key for what, I may never know.
Things often moving quickly halt and take on the slow.
The same people, the same faces, the same air, the same places.

I’m a person with a bleeding heart.
It’s dangerous to lead a life like mine,
Sadly you can’t escape the family bloodline.
Constantly stuck in a place between the planes.
I can’t help what’s running wild, pumping through my veins.

No rest for me. The others are already gone.
My logic quickly left along with the dawn.
My bleeding heart might just be the death of me.
I would show you I am hurting but we can’t seem to agree
I am all alone surrounded by nothing but my own suffocating thoughts.
I can’t breathe and continue to find myself at a loss.
A new beginning. The strong will live, the weak will die.
It’s tattooed into the minds of the people in the city as a nearby excuse for people like me.

Yes, there are others, but they are far out of reach, conveniently unavailable.
The rest of us have been wiped out and deemed unfavorable.

What am I?
Just an unnoticed vessel of the human soul
and all of it’s dangerously soft-hearted mannerisms.

I have a bleeding heart. I do not deny.
Left alone for the beasts to tear apart.
But I cannot help but look to the sky.

I despise my nature, my being even,
Curse my benignant soul,
And my lack of self control
What’s left for me in this cruel world?
Run by unintellectual imbeciles running off their own flawed reasoning

A divergent past, lies in ruins which was once filled with memories and happy experiences,
I was once just a kid lost in her own place, drowning and begging for help but no one came.

Perhaps, I’m not as much of a person with a bleeding heart as I possibly could be.
Perhaps, the legacy I leave behind will be nothing but a life of running away.
Perhaps my bleeding heart only bleeds in contrast to the reality around me.

“Because it is mine, it will always bleed”.
I am stuck in this life of heartache and unwelcome spilled blood, but it will be alright.
Because I won’t give up, not until I succeed.  
I will make it one day, even if there is no destination, I’ll go just to see the sights.
Bleeding heart and all, I will fight the war, not backing down, but disappearing at midnight.

i have anxiety
undiagnosed.
well that’s not true i’ve been to therapists, psychologists.
many, so many doctor appointments.
i have old medications for it, i haven’t kept up with
i don’t like the way they force my brain
to conform to the usual and to feel a certain way

sometimes it feels like my head is stuffed with an overflowing amount of crumpled paper *****
piling up crowding the available space in my frontal lobe
the things i never said, the things i should have never said,
the things that someone never said to me.
that special someone that holds hands with the prettier girl
about two feet away from me.
she’s a better fit for you. i guess
the grade that i got on my last math test but really don’t care about
because by this point i’m habituated to the sting of failure.
i sit in my room and cry by myself because my nerves feel like they are ripping apart
or maybe it’s the sensation of exploding
similar to the creation of a star, or i guess in my case,
the painful closure of a life well lived.
of a time far too stressed.

my brain feels very full while simultaneously existing almost on empty.
i wake up from a drowsy late afternoon depression nap with
my neurons firing too fast for me to catch up with and a weirdly powerful
and persevering sense of anger or maybe it’s frustration.
i feel like i’m stuck in a crevasse between the cliffs of successful and beautiful
but maybe i’ve always been here
living in the pits of my insanity stuck under the weights of my anxiety

all of these things are written on these crumpled pieces of paper
there are so many of them, i used to be in control, not anymore
the world feels as if it’s tumbling out of my hands
rolling down the hill and crushing my motivation with it
there are so many things on my mind
right now that no more would be able to fit 
in my brain, it’s overcrowded like an LA rush hour
with time speeding by, with me just sat there working from my tower.

i have reached maximum capacity
and yet i can't stop thinking things,
i can't stop saying stupid things,
i can't stop wishing things. 
i sigh, i reach up to my forehead and i swipe away remnants of exhaustion
and bend down to pick up my backpack that weighs far more than it should
with my shaky hands caused by a high intake of caffeine
that i now require just to stay awake in class
i’m tired but as i sit here avoiding responsibilities
and the anxiety that often travels along with it

i'm hoping that one day when i get to this place
of unbearable tensions in my shoulders
and stress that pulls the insanity directly from my mind
that translates to unrelenting tears falling from my eyes.
the top of my head will crank itself open
and all of these crumpled pieces of thoughts and worries
will pour out into a neat little pile
on the floor 
and disappear
at least for just a while.
that would be nice.
as my arms let go and the tension falls away along with my body
letting go of the stress and the pressures of
holding those pillars together
and fall through the sky
just so i have enough time to
take a truly deep breath.

here’s to a peaceful ending,
a crumbled paper ball fate.

Watching the clouds is such a calming activity. I wonder why I don’t do it more. I suppose it’s because during the year “I don’t have the time”, but what does that even mean? There is always time, time is continuous. It is fluid, I am not reminded of this often enough. I like being outside during the time just a little bit before sunset to watch the majesty of nature welcome the night. Spending time with my dogs is rather pleasant too, I don’t do it frequently enough, I know. The sky has slowly turned into shades of grey and the clouds are growing heavy. The final calls of the birds are echoing off the dusty concrete as they call to each other in what I can only assume is their language. There is not too much longer that I can sit outside for before it’s completely dark which I know I wouldn’t enjoy. There’s too much uncertainty about the night compacted with the well known and well repeated fact that I can’t see. It’s pretty much a nightmare combination. However I have to say, there’s something special about sitting barefoot in the grass watching the sun go down with the only company being your dogs.

It’s quiet. It didn’t used to be. My parents have been fighting for who knows how long tonight. It’s not great background noise when I’m trying to relax. There’s a motorcycle racing down my street there is definitely something to living behind the protection of a driveway. I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to live next to a highway. It’s peaceful watching the clouds slowly amble across the sky changing color ever so slightly. I really enjoy summer in this moment. The gentle breeze, the kisses from my dog, the slowly setting sun, and melodic hymn from the birds create a vision that seems to be stripped from a movie scene.

My darling.
How exquisite it is that we happen
To exist in the same dimension.
I suppose tonight is one where the emptiness
Has begun its gradual descent
Choosing to take my feelings with it.
How do I feel? Well, I certainly wish that
You could be lying next to me to comfort me
While I float to the endless bottom of this abyss.
I wish for a night with your presence
So close that I can see the graceful
Rise and fall of your chest signaling
The constant of life that we all know as breathing.
But when the trivial task is completed by you
The world in my eyes seems to play in slow motion.
Utterly fascinated by your inner workings and inhibitions.
What ethereal source have you successfully stolen,
To channel the charisma overflowing within your personality
I wonder if you’re aware of your prominent title as my inspiration.
You have a way with the universe that I crave to imitate.
Or perhaps just to steal for a temporary bliss.
If you were next to me, there would be no reason for my
Uncontrollable fear, your wisely crafted logic would leave it behind.
Perhaps the allure is found beyond the masquerade.
The night sky reflects the mystique of your appeal.
Here’s to a beautiful eternity, may it never fade.
May the forever’s be found in the way we feel.

No.
When your eyes are failing.
Knuckles swinging and twisting,
Sadly, it’s not always smooth sailing.
No.
Knees crashing and bones clattering.
Hurricane came and left the mind scattering
No.
Hands releasing, lips quivering and fading.
Defenseless, to no avail, they are invading.
No.
Heavy begging eyes and pleading arms
There’s nothing left of your charms.
No.
The words fall out.
Such a request
A final farewell if you wish.
No, please. Don’t go…
But it’s too late.

“But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.”

This is a line from Shakespeare’s Othello that has always struck a chord with me. Because in more ways than one it doesn’t make sense. Wearing my heart on my sleeve is a foreign faraway concept for someone like me who struggles to be real and to drop the pretenses. I have built a façade that deems almost inaccessible. However, reality reminds me with people like you that sometimes, broken glass can be just as beautiful. And that vulnerability is not something to be afraid of.

My heart beats rapidly inside of my chest.
My lungs struggle along to catch their breath.
What is this? I ask frantic and almost stressed.
An anatomically correct heart
Lies in the center of my shirt
A gift from someone very dear to me,
Someone who is often times near to me
The melodies of beautiful songs
Accompanied by the delicate strings of a guitar
Ring in my ears as alarms
Rather than acoustic rhythms

I fall to the floor,
Too late to meet up with your shadow
I have once again missed my opportunity.
I think back and the nostalgia washes over me.
I remember when we used to
Steal kisses under the navy-blue night sky
The stars seem to shine just for you and me
I wish with all of my being that we could just be.
That we could stay in this moment forever or perhaps
Just for another minute, just for another second,
Just for one more moment.

But alas, you return home, and so do I,
Back to the mundanity of our everyday lives
You remind of the ocean,  
Powerful and destructive, and yet I find myself
Hopelessly drawn to you.
The serenity of it all knocks my breath away.
I travel to reverie quite often these days
Perhaps it’s to escape the reality
Of the broken pieces that we left behind
When we decided that perhaps together just wasn’t meant to be
The sunshine filtering through your pale colored curtains
The flowers that follow your footsteps
Marking your past and illuminating your future.
I miss you more than these words can spell.
My soul aches terribly thinking of our last farewell.
All I want is your lips pressed against mine
Our hands closer than ever; intertwined;
As we stroll next to the coastline
But instead I’m left alone with my thoughts.

In the process of writing this poem,
I am not only wearing my heart on my chest literally
I’m doing something I rarely do,
An expression of vulnerability
Of unexpectedly sweet feelings.
I am wearing my heart on my sleeve.
Because I know by now, that I have fallen too far.
To even believe, I don’t know if we’re meant to be
I only trust in what I can see,
And hope and pray that you feel the same for me.

I am tired, exhausted really.
I’m not getting enough sleep. Not enough is going my way.
Writing takes a piece of my soul and turns into words while meaningless by themselves becomes something with power.
Life doesn’t feel vibrant and colorful like I know it sometimes can be.
Life has instead been replaced with a gloomy, apathetic relative.
Life has been treating me unfairly, despite my best efforts.
It has left me broken and bruised and bleeding in the middle of the battlefield.
Despite my cries, nobody hears me as I continue to disintegrate into a shriveling pile of nothing.

I feel like I’m losing. No, I know that I’m losing.
Because see it’s not the battles that matter, it’s the war.
Things have changed, I’m slowly coming back to the person I used to be, unhappy with myself and with life.
I’m completely terrified of this thought but far too tired to resist.
I don’t know how to reverse, I don’t know how to find happiness.
I have lost the road map, I’m scrambling for a hand hold or some sort of sign.

I’m too tired to fight.
I’m too tired to be happy.
I’m too tired to focus on school work.
I’m too tired to push myself through 6 hours of homework a night.
I’m too tired to carry around a 40 pound backpack from class to class.
I’m too tired to find balance between healthy habits and what reality holds.
I’m too tired to effectively manage my time, I would rather self-sabotage.
I’m too tired to write, I’ve already said this.
Maybe if I got more sleep, not so much in my life would be wrong.  
I like to think that the majority of my life’s problems would be fixed with a little more balance.
Perhaps my life would look a little more like my aspirations.
Perhaps I would be happier and my eyes filled with more ambition.
Perhaps my notebooks would be filled to the brim with intelligent ideas and beautifully crafted writing.
Perhaps my life would look more like the plot to a cheesy indie film with the protagonist figuring everything out during a montage set to sentimental music. I would enjoy that.
Or
Perhaps nothing would change. And everything I imagined is nothing but an impossible world created by fractured idealist’s fuel and fabricated fiction.
I’m exhausted and tired of putting my ideas out only to have them rejected.
But that’s what writing is about. Reality, and pushing through.

Writing isn’t supposed to be infused with sugar-coated metaphors and avoidance of the truth.
Writing isn’t supposed to be lies, although that narrative is proposed often.
Writing isn’t supposed easy.
Writing is supposed to be about emotion.
Writing is about failure.
Writing is about heartbreak.
Writing is supposed to be about the rough times as much as it is about the good times.
Writing is real.
Writing is exposure.
Writing is powerful, simply because of the truth behind it.

So I will continue to write even when I don’t feel like it.
I will continue to face reality, head on with a stare colder than ice.
I will write because it’s not supposed to be easy.

The world around me is beautiful yet
I find it also exists as a force to be feared.
A plethora of the unknown and uncertain
Trace my every movement.
Where are you headed?
I gasp and grip for the nearest answer.
I’m unsure and I’m ripped to shreds.

Life itself is a mystery, an enigma never to be solved.
Surrounded by questions and hypotheticals,
Am I supposed to organize it alphabetical -ly
Breathe. Calm down - I hear in my periphery.
So I take a moment to finally let
It wash over me, to forget
Everything I ever knew -and to focus on the present.
Or the future I suppose, any moment other than now.
To find a place where contentment abounds somehow.

Light cannot exist without darkness.
So I accept the situation all around.
And fall desperately into unconsciousness.
To rejoice in the reprieve of thought.

Hope, ‘the thing with feathers’
I’m not so sure about that.
Hope feels misleading, or leading only into disappointment.
I feel frustrated, emotionally drained perhaps?
Maybe I’m cynical. That’s probably it.
It’s definitely a promising possibility.
I think hope acts as an anvil that crushes everyone
Praying for it to hang in the sky for a tad longer.

Hope is disillusioning.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t indulge every once in a while.
Hope is enlightening, addictive, whatever you want to call it.
But it’s undeniably beautiful, it ties you to the future.
It gives you aspirations. So here’s a list of hopes.

I hope I get to dance in the rain without a care of drenching my clothes.
Nature surrounding me with her soaking embrace, and thunderous applause.
With tiny drops of water slowly grazing my face, and
Maybe then I’ll finally know what harmony feels like.

I hope I get to reinvent my whole life and everything I know.
I hope I can fall into those nights where I barely remember my name but your arms are there to guide me home.
I hope I learn to face the light, and that it mends the brokenness of my soul.
I wish for nights where I discover a new version of myself by exploring foreign cities with people I’ve never met.
Where adrenaline is coursing through my veins,
And excitement greets me at every corner.
I hope I lose myself to find someone new.
To find the extraordinary within the mundane.
To appreciate the little things.
I want to live with purpose, to leave with meaning.
I hope I get to grow, that I get to change.
I hope I travel the world before it’s gone.
And to experience all that I can, through perspectives of empathy.
I want to impact others, to change the world,
But I suppose that can’t be done without changing myself first.

I hope I experience the feeling of being in love again.
The blinding euphoria of falling completely for what’s just a construct.
I want to find a place where I can be myself, without pretenses, without explanation.
I want to forgive, to laugh until I can’t breathe, to be brutally honest,
To be torn down to nothing and to have to begin again.

I hope I find peace of mind.
Because I know I’ve been searching for quite some time.
I hope I learn to let go.
I hope I learn to appreciate hope rather than ostracize it.
To open the curtains and to let the light come streaming in.
I hope I realize that it’s okay to not always know.
I hope I live my life before I go.

Lie to me.
Please for the sake of my sanity.
For my delicate beating heart.
Tell me that you still love me.
Even if it’s a lie, I don’t want to lose you just yet.
Reassure of me of your undying feelings.
Of your beautiful soul that still cares for mine.
Please, please tell me you still love me.
Just one more time, just for one more night.

Meet you downstairs right?
For Friday night adventures, and Saturday morning breakfasts.
Where did it all go?
How did it all vanish like smoke drifting upwards from a tear in the hatch?
I thought that maybe in some alternate timeline,
That we were going to be the perfect match.
I refuse to believe that I’m mistaken, I’m afraid to be.
Terrified really.
My stomach falls to floor, as I sort through the letters
That you sent to my hotel.
Where did that love go?

Say something, or don’t, I suppose.
Is it really that hard? I’m not quite sure I understand.
How is so easy for you to deceive me
and leave me completely stranded and lonely?
I thought you were so gorgeous when
Those words fell from your mouth.
I knew that every single one was
Dipped in deadly poison.
But it didn’t matter in the slightest.
I was determined to interpret your words as truth.
I would believe in whatever you were to say to me,
In some ways it was dangerous. I agree
The way that I was so toxically
And completely dependent on your existence.

The person I used to be,
No longer needs your false histories
But lies cold and empty
Alone, but looking back,
Honestly, it’s preferable
To the company
Of someone like you,
Someone who’s callous and heartless
And above all
A liar.

(for you, tf.)
“Tell me all of the things that make you feel lovely.”
You whisper to my longing ears
As we quietly barrel down this highway road.
Silence follows us like a dark cloud.
Predicting our next steps, and our doomed fates.
You stay until my heart has calmed and slowed.
I feel safe when I’m with you.
Like there’s a pocket of falling sunlight,
Hidden away from the cruel broken skies,
All by itself, somehow sustained. Glowing.
Nothing in the world could interrupt you and I.

Do you remember the time I spent waiting?
The time we spent in love.
Together. Wandering, learning, living.
The way your hands held mine until they stopped shaking.
I miss you, and the beauty, and wonder of it all.
Especially your endless blue eyes and charming smile
That made my fears seem small,
That told me everything was going to be alright,
It was going to be okay. Perhaps you were wrong.
You told me that I make you feel like you’re floating.
Like the earth has lost its’ gravity, its’ presence
All that used to be of its’ essence
And we are the only two, left behind.
To enjoy each other’s company for eternity.

“Lovely, what a lovely word.”
What a terrible world to take that away.
A list, of all the things that make you happy.
I hope to God that I would be on that list too.
Because to me, you shined brighter than the stars
And kinder than the waves.
I hope you can hear me, where you are.
If so, I love you. And thank you for showing me
What life really is, and what it can be.
And if not, it’s okay. Right now, it’s difficult.
But, I know we were never meant to be infinite.

Booming voices, and broken glass
Tuesday at 2am, Thursday at 4pm
Hysteric laughter, backwards ball caps
Scribbled writing that doesn’t even make sense
Birds trying to fly but falling instead
Headlights piercing through the foggy darkness of dawn
The realization that entropy is unavoidable
Ash grey, lavender, forest green, misty rose pink
I am struggling and haven’t yet found my kitchen sink
A piano slightly out of tune, papers falling to the floor
Glazed over eyes, cracks in the sidewalk, all of this what for?
Steaming cups of black coffee, met with desiring needs
Full moons and unanswered questions
All of these, I happen to be.
The power of silence, the power of identity
Thunderstorms, moments of chaos perfectly intertwined with the silence,
Unmade beds, messy hair that falls into your eyes.
The ever-moving cold gray skies and beauty of the sunrise
Out of place tiles on bitterly cold linoleum floors
I am not perfection, in any way, shape, or form.
I fall from grace routinely, my bones ache and tremble
And when I fall apart, it takes me a while to reassemble.
Like gunshots muffled by the noise of the city blocks
I am not perfect, nothing special ever happens.
I am broken, I am misplaced and unwanted passion.
I am the raw energy that shoots from my fingertips
The tumbling words that constantly fall from my lips
That I cannot, nor would I want to control.
Galaxies and constellations grow in my soul.
I am, nothing more, than all that I have listed.
I am mistakes, dark times, unnoticed and forgotten moments.
But I am also a smile after a long cry, (don’t worry) your identity has not been stolen.

I want to be in a love like this forever.
With your eyes grazing my skin,
Following your circling fingertips.
You touch me in a way, so delicately,
So lovingly, like you actually care.
Your kisses that you place on my forehead
As I’m drifting off into paradise
Remind me what spring love is supposed to look like.
The grass under my toes pull me into the present
While we dance across the lawn with our hands intertwined.
Butterflies zig zag across my vision and you spin me around.
The music drowns out all of our other problems.
And life feels beautiful.
When I’m in my sundress and
You’re watching me from our picnic blanket
You tell me you love me, and my heart begins to flutter.
The last days of cold are erased by your beautiful laugh
The warmth of sunlight and the soft cool breeze
Further pushes our passion and solidifies our feelings.
You grip my waist and lift me into the air.
Time feels rosy and fair, while the birds chirp and call.
With no real agenda, without the controlling menace of time.
We hold hands and spend the afternoons enjoying the bliss.
The newly bloomed flowers and reappearance of green
Feels like a long awaited, highly anticipated surprise
As does our relationship.
We take in the pink skies together,
Hoping we will never have to say goodbye,
Affectionately kissing one another.
Knowing this is a time we will always miss.
Spring, is a time for new beginnings.
It is the perfect time, for a love like this.

There's a storm coming.
Within hours, its arrival will go unannounced
But the few who are destined for the change
Can feel it brewing just under the surface
Between the quiet conversations
A constant hum, a reminder of the forgotten
Continues to pulse through the veins
Silence, floating above the metropolis
Ready to blanket the movement in a suffocating still
The forces of the unknown act swiftly, careful in its oblivion
Truth be told, there is some quality to having something to hold on to.
Something to tether you back to reality,
It gives you assurance that this life is more than just a simulation
Hope of the possibility to slowly pass through the barren wastelands of this
Technological underdevelopment.
The world has seemingly lost its value
Let the storm wipe out what is left of this society.
The few who were meant to be will remain.
I'm ready for the shift for nothing to be the same.

I’m listening to the teenagers fall in love next door. 
Music plays softly in the background, setting the mood.
It’s a beautiful sight as I’m watching it from my spot in the window. 
Strings of lights surround them while they gaze up at the stars. 
They are making pointless conversation that goes in endless circles 
But both of them seem to be completely ecstatic and enthralled 
With just each other’s company. 
In their own little corner, in the limited space that is
Someone else’s backyard, they are protected and safe from reality. 
It gives me hope. 
I can feel myself getting lost in the excitement once again.
Maybe there’s a love out there that is only precious and clean. 
Without a single speck of imperfection, infidelity, or mean
Where’s the magic? The one that I’m supposed to believe in. 
Where is my soulmate the one with which
I’m supposed to keep dreaming
In my imagination, these teenagers are so much more
She’s the shy belle of the season, attractive beyond measure
And of course, he’s the charismatic boy with 
A good amount of reason

But truth be told, I don’t know her.
Or him. Or if they are actually even a couple. 
Or just friends stealing kisses under the pale moonlight. 
They just seem so perfect from up here, 
Flawless, absolutely faultless. 
That’s not practical though, is it? 
I want the magic to be real.
For their smiles and loving feelings to be genuine. 
Unfortunately, in my experience I’ve learned
Real love doesn’t work that way. 
Maybe in the movies, maybe for a couple of days. 
But it’s not real, at least, for a love that lasts. 

However, the real point of inquiry
Is why I’m sitting by this window
Completely captivated this beautiful maybe, maybe not
Couple hidden away from the world
I think a part of me wants to be them.
I want to be in a love like theirs. 
One that’s filled with soft glowing candlelit discussions,
Filled with smiles and gazing into each other’s eyes.
While watching the stars, with their gentle hands intertwined.
I want to be in a love like theirs. 
But what does that say about mine?

A life without problems is something that we all secretly wish for.
I think more than we realize, problems is what makes us who we are.
Every single day it's a battle, whether we know it or not.
We dress in our armor, shoulder blades and helmets.
Made out of steel to protect us from the world and from one another.
We charge head first into a fight, blinded by adrenaline.
And get torn down to the bones. We can see your skeleton.
All of your deepest aspirations, the love and hatred all blended into one.
Displayed out on the floor for everyone to see.
This isn't the person I wanted you to be.
Who are you? Silence abounds, the decisions have become so muddled.
The door has been shut.
Take a deep breath, try again.
Once again, you put on your armor.
Sliding on the metal chest plate and helmet, you feel redeemed.
There was nothing in this world that could hold you back.
Or so you thought, you were so sure that you would succeed.
You were so sure that nothing in this world could stop you.
And that any foe you ever met would just leave you alone.
You were wrong, and I was a fool to believe you.
I sat idly by while you fought in the war, not saying a word.
I was too afraid, terrified really that you would come home too soon.
I listened as you rambled on about your buddies and your struggles.
I enjoy the way that you strung words into a sentence in a manner that was so elegant.
You told me that, everything was going to be okay, as long as you were in control.
Speak only if spoken to, you're wrong, I will speak whenever I please.
I prepare for a final battle. I slowly put on the mask of a warrior.
You stand up tall and look down at me and laugh for you underestimate my tenacity.
To you, I was nothing more than a memory.
The bell rings and the fight commences.
Two shots at my face.
Three shots down the drain.
Four shots, and you scream out my name.
Five shots, I’m tired of your little game.
Six shots, I will no longer cower in shame.
You taught me what it was like to have freedom.
The freedom to live, the freedom to explore, the freedom to be me.
Why did you take it away? I ask with tears rolling down my cheeks.
I fought for this life, I fought for this love, and I fought for my choice.
A world where I cannot speak, is a world not worth living in.
Because in this world, I have chosen to fight for my voice.

the heart is a fickle creature.
attached to things that bring destruction.
i wonder if the heart is aware.
told to beware of what’s to come.
to hide away from the glow of the sun.
i doubt that it was, because otherwise
the petals wouldn’t be falling.
and my hands wouldn’t shake like they do.
i also have a fear, that it might be too late.
to save what once was.
to leave free,
instead of empty.
how powerful must one be to
destroy. or perhaps just afraid.

Our unappreciated saviors of the world reside among the clouds.
A fitting tribute to my arrival, the clouds fell to the floor.
They guided my way and kept my toes warm.
I hear the darkness festering at my heels, trying to catch my eye.
The sounds were subtle but relentless as they continued to expand.
Larger and larger they grew, proceeding to overwhelm all corners of my mind.
Stripped away from my shaking hands, I no longer hold command.
I urge my brain to ignore them but they distract me evermore.
Like the beautiful whispering of the leaves as they left their home.
Never to return, they remind me of a place where I loved to roam.
I long for a sense of where I belong.
Aimlessly wandering is exhausting beyond description.
Burning to the ground, my lover was dead amongst the dust.
My world stopped spinning.
Close your eyes and count to ten. Goodbye my little friend.
One… Three… Seven… Eight… Ten…
For as long as I will live, I will be haunted by my regrets and mistakes.
The day that I left the kingdom of peace, the glass shattered.
The clouds returned to the sky, and the world that was shared was between only my sister and I.

My laptop reads 13%
And oddly enough I relate to that
It’s a staple of our generation to relate to others obscure references.
With agreements such as “same” being used to reference themselves to a cup lying on the side of the road.
I don’t quite understand and yet I find myself relating to these obscurities rather frequently.
I’m stuck.  
Truly a dead end of the creative kind.
And sincerely it’s been literal months since I’ve created something I’m even mildly okay with.
Why? Is it because I’m depressed?
Is it because I am empty inside?
What can I find to blame my inactiveness on this time?
There are so many things I want to do.
I want to sing
I want to act
I want to fall in love
I want to make videos
I want to lose 30 pounds
I want to travel the world.
I want to come out to my family
I want to die but usually only at night, which is an improvement
I want be a lawyer, a doctor, a writer, a zoologist, an actor.
There are multitudes of things that I want, enough to fill up all of the oceans. Simultaneously
There is one that is noticeably more prominent than others and that is that
I want to be happy.
And yet here I am it’s 3 am and I’m nothing but empty
And even now, more than ever now, I need to have a voice.
I don’t want to be heard I need to be. But the words they just don’t come like they used to.
How am I supposed to pursue my dreams if I can’t even take a shower?
I’m falling. Again.
Life is messy. Life is a ******* **** show.
I’m trying to make the most of it. And honestly, it’s ******* difficult.
I want to write. I say that about every three hours and yet nothing.
More than anything, I want to live lives other than my own,
Not because of self-hatred but because of my desire to explore and to experience.
I want to fall in love with characters who help me to love myself.
I want to be more than a 16-year-old typing her life away hoping, praying to live other lives.
And just because I don’t know how to get there right now.
Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.
I want to live for myself, I want to stop apologizing and go for what I want.
My laptop reads 2% and as it is powering off so am I.
I’m going to sleep in hopes of inspiration striking me while I’m floating between consciousness.
It’s unreasonable to ask for. But please.
I miss creating. I just want to live.
I just want to be happy.

This morning I woke up before 6am.
Too early for most people, myself included.
My brain was running wild last night.
I laid restless in my bed for what seemed like hours.
I tossed and turned and my thoughts were overrun with nightmares and horrors.
Turmoil took over my mind and stressed my heart out. I simply couldn’t sleep.
I took deep breaths, I counted sheep, I even drank a cup of tea.

Nothing worked. So, I continued to lay there too tired to move, far too awake to fall asleep.
Such a terrible state, caught in between two extremes each one refusing to give in.
Life had exhausted me and yet I still wasn’t allowed sleep.
I felt trapped, I felt powerless, I was defeated.
Somehow amidst my worrying, I had drifted off into slumber.
And that leads us to this morning.
This morning I woke up before 6am. Groggy, vision foggy, and most of all still tired.
I mean, could you blame me? I had gotten barely more than half
of the prescribed amount of sleep for someone my age.
I packed a bag for the adventures of the day, which for me meant about 30 pounds of textbooks.
I made a list of the work that still needed to be done.
Another list for how many minutes I had before the sun.
One by one, we loaded into the car, like soldiers preparing for war.
In some ways, we were readying our armor, but ours was metaphorical rather than literal.

My dad is always the first to the car. He likes to get ahead of the current.
My sister is second, she’s grumpy and doesn’t understand what’s going on.
Then myself, I’m tired but still excited for what’s to come.
We drive through the sleepy city, everyone’s preparing for their own day.
The sun itself has just risen and we watch the world awaken.
We have arrived, and it’s about 6:30AM.
You guessed it. It’s time for breakfast.

Scientifically speaking, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
Personally speaking, nothing chooses the course of the day more than that first meal.
A cold unforgiving bowl of cereal doesn’t bring me happiness,
Like a warm bowl of fried rice does or like scrambled eggs with just a hint of cheese does.
Perhaps I am looking too far into the way certain breakfast foods makes me feel.
Regardless, we walk in and the environment shift affects all of our moods.

We made it to the front of the line and we order.
For my dad, eggs, bacon, and link sausage, a trio.
For my sister, in a state of dazed, orders the same.
For myself, the only one with originality deliberately chooses blueberry pancakes.
The warmth and comfort found in hot chocolate is exactly what I need right now.
So I order that too.
Sleepy and unaware, we trudge back to a table as a unit.
Our table is split between booth and chair and it’s located next to the window.
There is something poetic about the scene.
Maybe it’s the early light breaking through the glass.
Or maybe it’s rarity of the event, we usually eat breakfast at home.
This is a special occasion not for any reason other than it’s happened.
Moments of solemnity are interrupted by our waitress who brings a new day.
Found piled on top of flimsy paper plates is a sight of pure beauty.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, people tend to experience life more deliriously during this time.
But the food looks incredible. The pancakes are lightly coated with powdered sugar and
look like they had been pulled out of a magazine cover, as does the rest of the food.
My father and sister’s moods are lightened as food typically has that effect.
The hot chocolate is topped with whip cream and sprinkles something that I didn’t ask for and yet I’m endlessly grateful.
They bring a previously unexamined aspect of happiness to this already novelty of an outing.
Once the food arrives, I halt the instincts of everyone by forcing them to capture the moment.
I enjoy pictures because they are snapshots of reality, that can depict whatever you want.
They take time and turn it into moments, something truly innovative.
After the pictures, we eat, we make small conversation,
And most of all we enjoy each other’s company.
It’s similar to the breakfasts you often see out of movies, families living that idyllic lifestyle.

This morning I woke up before 6am
And only got 4 hours of sleep.
But despite all odds, this was a good morning.
Now I’m not sure if this change in mood is attributed solely to breakfast
Or other unmentioned factors but I do know this.
Physically, I feel tired.
Mentally, I feel better than I have in a while.
Perhaps, I can even persevere through the day.
I guess that’s just the power of blueberry pancakes.

too much time to think.
crushing is how i would describe it
like walls falling to the floor
with a more than deafening crash
a single hand suffocating my throat
and along with it; a suppression
of my creativity, and livelihood
i’m not sure who i am without you.
it’s been far too long.
the mediocrity of my attempts
at denial are almost laughable.
if it weren’t so pathetic in it’s origin.
the night proves to be the worst.
stuck; contemplating a lost unity.
a severance of what once was.
the void and i have found solace in each other.
alone, decrepit; trying our best to survive
in whatever way, we can. avoiding the gaze of the time.
this is such a strange place to be alive.

a t-shirt. one that is a terrible color. 
my mom's least favorite, burnt orange. 
it shares a disgusting likeness to rust. 
and yet my dad would wear it everyday. 
regardless of everyone around him's distrust. 
"no one would dare to wear that in public" 
my mom said, she was wrong. 
perhaps when she married him she was not aware 
of my dad's inexplicable connection to 
this terrible color, or to t-shirts in general i guess
for about six out of the seven days a week regardless 
he would be wearing that same shirt
for the almost 20 years they have been married 
he can be found wearing that same shirt
however, there's a slight misconception
he doesn't have just one shirt 
he has dozens of those nasty burnt orange colored shirts 
and i suppose i forgot to mention that it's to support a football team
which seems shallow in theory but the aforementioned is
non-other than the texas longhorns. 
my dad grew up there and attended college there. 
he wasn't even a part of the team, and yet 
for the last 35 years he's been wearing that same shirt.
i simply can't understand his undying affinity 
i barely recognize the mascot of our own school team. 
there is a certain dedication, a certain love that he must feel towards this place, towards that team. 
however as i'm writing this poem i simply can't ascertain what it's all supposed to mean? 
texas, a place of southern accents, cowboys, and racism. 
not somewhere i typically tend to associate with even
though it was the place where i was born in 
on a Tuesday almost 17 years ago at about 1pm 
and of course i arrive
too early for my own good, 
so i stayed in a hospital in ICU until they said i could
be taken home to a house i barely remember. 
i wouldn't call that place home. 
and yet, my dad wearing another variation of his classic burnt orange t-shirt today 
that reminds me that's where i came from 
i came from burnt orange beginnings. 
and even though i might live in a blue ocean paradise as of now. 
that's not where i started. 
i tell myself that i am so much more that the place my life began in. 
so instead of loving where i started and the color that comes with it. 
i continue to despise that burnt orange color and compare it to rust 
and all other things that fill me with unexplainable disgust. 
but in the spirit of honestness. i don't hate it as much as i contest 
don't ask me about it however because for sure all i’ll do is protest
but even when i was little seeing that orange shirt and ******* car 
arrive in the driveway of my old school was truly the best 
looking for that ugly orange shirt at the end of the day when he always asked me what i had learned
hugging that terrible orange shirt when i'm crying 
after scraping my knee on the concrete
taking car rides with that orange shirt seated beside me 
that seemed as long as a lifetime to go see the turtles on the north shore  
after watching him present himself at a showing of a house we could never afford
watching that orange shirt fumble and stumble teaching me to drive 
fixing my air conditioner with this orange shirt at 2am
after a nightmare session that left me too rattled to sleep
that orange shirt who attends these loud rock concerts that he doesn’t necessarily enjoy simply to watch me be happy
that awful orange shirt that has seen me sad and happy and everything in between.
you know seeing that orange shirt for nearly every day of my life
has conditioned me 
and truly i hate it, the dustiness, the rustiness of it all. 
it’s disgusting, appalling and above all terrible. 
but for some godforsaken reason i also love it. 
i love it with my entire heart,
i truly love that stupid orange shirt for all of its awfulness
and logically i know it's not the shirt but the person inside.
because my dad is one of the most amazing people
i know and i hate to admit
but that color has grown on me, because of him
it's become home to me, 
it's my dad.
and maybe i'll never figure out why 
my dad loves his college football team so much 
maybe i don't need to 
what i know is that while burnt orange may be a truly terrible color, 
it's become home to me.

My heart aches.
When I think about leaving you,
When I think about how in a year, I won’t see you everyday.
Instead I’ll be thousands of miles away.
Missing you with every breath. With every thought.
I don’t know why. It seems silly. Doesn’t it?
Truthfully, and not just for comedic purposes.
I’ve never loved anyone the way I’ve loved you.
And I’m going to miss you so much more than words can describe.
And I’m sorry. I know it’s unconventional, rude even.
To say I have to go. I know I’d promised I’d be there forever.
****, why did I have to fall so deeply?
Thinking about your eyes will no longer meet mine.
With time, you’ll forget. And so will I.
That connection we once shared will disappear.
Our feelings will fall away.
Life will continue.

Unproductivity.
What a silly word.
What a massive waste of time.
While the minutes and even hours race by,
And apparently it’s already July.
The future is coming.
I realize that statement is true yes, but
That doesn’t mean I’m any less scared
That doesn’t mean I’m any less unprepared.
Time moves fast, most of the time that is.
However there are those moments
Where I’m struggling to stay afloat
Resisting the lull of falling behind
Persisting despite my hatred of
My somehow ever-racing mind
I don’t know what to do to slow down
I just need more time, time to breathe.
Time to relax, time to let life pass me by
Maybe just a for a day, where I could get away.
I could leave this town, and avoid
My suffocating obligations
And my equally frustrating
Responsibilities and duties .
And worst of all,
The winner of them all by far,
The anxiety that holds my brain hostage.
Telling me that there’s no time
Yelling at me to focus, to get things done.
But all I can do is sit. There, quietly.
And stare at the wall directly in front of me
For what seems like hours but they’re actually days.
And everything seems to be slipping by.
Minding it’s own business, and I wish it wouldn’t.
I feel as if I’ve lost my tie, my lock to my identity.
The person I thought I used to be
Dedicated and focused.
Is now frustrated and unmotivated
What am I supposed to do?
I suppose, I’ll continue to sit here.
Whether it be at my desk, on my bed.
Racking the ideas and words through my head.
Over and over attempting to
Wait out this unproductivity.
And praying that inspiration
Won’t take much longer
Because I’m afraid I’ve lost what I used to have.

A student weary from the week cries out, it's like
"We're trying to one up each other in misery"
Day by day,
Every single one, lines up straight, and rigid
Takes the time to confess and lays down
What's going on, around in this town?
The culture that is spreading is toxic.
Similar to a disease, where is our CDC?
Who is supposed to protect my life from me?
From my destructive, wasteful ways
From those long and uninterrupted days
Why do the teens have less and less life jumping between their minds?
Less and less excitement found in their blurry far too tired eyes
Dull, dreary, and exhausted
Walking into here feels like pushing against an immortal force
We trudge through the mud afraid of what comes next
I'm wondering if the girl next to me knows.
If she believes that the way we're going leads to the cold
To the undeserving, to those that remain untold.
I wonder and wonder for hours, but it's in my mind and I know.
This life style that is so widely encouraged and yet also frowned upon.
The controversy sets up success almost as a paradox.
Impossible, not achievable at least in this reality.
Should I sacrifice my health for a good grade in a class I don't even like.
Education, the path to freedom, but it feels as if living our lives in a hell.
Consuming coffee with enough sugar to make heart spike far above normal and to pump my adrenaline.  to get me going
My heartbeat is pumping too loud for me to hear.
“I despise where I am,”
the repetition of my statement is nauseating
I mean I do what I can, but it seems to never be enough.
And yet so many of us find ourselves relating
Why would students today rather die that go to school this way?
Why would I rather stay home sick just to avoid the stress?
How do you change our system, our very broken system that is no where near the best.
I don't know how to fix the problem, if I even can.
May, the time of finalities, whether it be exams, projects, or tests.
A performance scheduled during AP week, what a brilliant idea
Why don’t you just sign the forms to drive the students completely mad.
I'm not good with time management.
I’m not good at taking math tests or test in general that is.
So why have I taken 5 standardized in this week alone.
That seems a bit absurd.
We’re giving it our all, I promise.
Please give us a break, please let’s change the mentality
The toxicity of the prepatory student mindset
If not for me, or my fellow students, for the future.
Please the pressure is capsizing our success,
And our SOS doesn’t seem to be getting through
So I hope this message reaches you.

Eyes darting and drifting,
The bushy lights of tails,
Grins as wide as the world itself,
Not a care, happy as can be.
Sadly, no one cares to stop, and
Realize what lies in simplicity.

When my mind goes out
For a stroll it won’t be coming
Back anytime soon because quite
Usually it’ll take a detour
Before it has time to fully bloom.
My mind is made in phases of
Endless galaxies and constellations,
That you couldn’t comprehend,
So please, I’m begging you,
Stop trying to assume.

There have been so many moments
that I have missed.
Completely escaping from my pen.
Writing feels almost foreign to me,
It’s been so long.
I feel ill-equipped, unprepared,
Not qualified in the slightest.
The thoughts that are buzzing around my brain
Refuse to transplant themselves
Onto the paper in front of me
They reject and avoid these
New environments.
I don’t know. I suppose
I sympathize for them, they’re afraid
Scared little thoughts, terrified of judgement
Aren’t I not the same?
Existing is a scary concept for all of us
I’m sure
But I think the best of us learn to hide, to confuse
The clock begins to tick down
My eyes are getting
Worse by the minute
I can feel it, I can live it.
And it’s getting
infinitely harder to breathe
To the point where I visit
The doctor for help.
Once again,
There’s too much time
I conclude
Too many possibilities
It all sounds terrible. What am I supposed to do.
Unruly and untamed I stroll through my exhibition
My disappointments, my unlived-in potential
Of unspoken thoughts, of uncommunicable feelings
They seem to be enjoying themselves
Enjoying the company, enjoying the rest
I suppose I would to.
It’s difficult to choose one to expose,
One to leave out
For the sun to eventually dry out
One to abandon forever.
I don’t know how to say goodbye.
I’ve never been good with farewell.
Not quite sure what I’m doing here
Brain where have you been.
I yell out to nowhere in particular.
What’s going on.
Please answer soon,
Because the clock is ticking down
And I remember a time where
Writing used to be my salvation,
But now writing seems to have
become nothing more than the source of
my everlasting frustration.
I hope things shift soon,
I hate being so far out of the loop,
Being so far from who I used
To be, the person I believed was me.
Maybe things will change, they have to.

The grey coated ashy sky screams that we should in fact be inside. 
But instead I’m rushing across a lawn in black, breaking flats.
With my heart in my chest, and my hands shaking from the rest.
I’m not prepared for what’s to come, for the repentance,
That will be taken, as we lie here hidden away from the sun.
The fluorescent lights are stinging away the outer layers of my eyes.
I can feel my confidence drastically shrinking in size.
All that are in favor stand up, a man in a blue button up calls out
I don’t stand. I’m scared, I don’t want to be the first one to lose
You’re unaware of the magnitude
Of your actions, as you rise.
Thereby sparing me and cursing those that I despise.

I fell in love with your appearance almost instantly.
With the softly curled hair that so gracefully
Rested above your eyes.
I had known you for a matter of minutes
And there it was I was in love.
It was a strange moment in time,
Where your eyes turned around to look into mine.
I felt a connection, immediately, without even a second thought.
Who was this impulsive romantic?
And what had she done with the particularly critical
Normal version of myself? Where had she gone?
My failures have never been so prominent as I’m sitting there
Wasting away in that old uncomfortable creaky plastic chair
I spent the time awaiting my fate,
Dangerously lost in the loose linens of your being
But I assume it’s now about eight
I don’t know exactly what my heart is feeling
I’m absentminded, free. Finally free from the
Troubles and worries of my everyday life.
As my overactive imagination overwhelms the logical side
In a landslide majority vote, I’m lost without a sense of maturity.

And so, I allow myself fall into your eyes, and slightly imperfect smile.
You were almost obnoxiously beautiful, but
With your snide offensive comments, and your homophobic sentiments,
And worse of all your willingness to sacrifice
The shortcomings of others to build yourself up
Was more than a little off-putting, and your arrogance
Was more than a little disgusting
For the image in my mind of us, to ever exist.
Darling, I wanted you to know
That is a future, I will never miss
And I truly hope to never have to see you again after this.

I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman.
Does it mean that I am always in competition to be the top of my species?
Does it mean that I need to be perfect without a single curve out of line in order to find love?
Does it mean that I am only defined when owned by a man?
Does it mean that I can only find purpose in childbirth?
Does it mean that I will forever live in the shadow of men?
Does it mean that I am an object invented solely for a man's pleasure?
Does it mean that I'm forced to confine to gender roles and live in someone else's story?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to accept it when I'm harassed from across the street?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to lie there silent when he puts his hands up my skirt?
Does it mean that I am only worth 77 cents to a man’s dollar?
Does it mean that I am defined by my looks rather than my intelligence?
Does it mean that I will never be capable of holding a major position of power due to my mood swings?
Does it mean that I am defined by how many men I have had *** with?
Or does it mean something else entirely.
It's difficult learning to love being a woman.
Obvious and damaging disadvantages are visible to observers.
We are regarded as second best, property of our man.
We are erased from history, our pain is minimized and forgotten.
We are oppressed and have to fight for our rights.
We are afraid to walk the streets at night, afraid for our lives.
We are harassed without care and without penalty.
We are ***** and murdered for refusing proposals.
We are expected to live on the sidelines as a housewife whose only priority should be her children.
We are expected to keep quiet in situations of domestic abuse.
We are expected to be perfect, and pretty, fresh for a man’s picking.
We can’t even advocate for our own equality without being demonized.
There are times where I wish I wasn’t a woman.
Being a woman comes with innumerable expectations, pressures, and responsibilities.
My existence is not defined by a man, or by the patriarchal expectations that have been placed on me.
I am breaking free of my confinements and I’m not afraid to admit that,
I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman. And that's okay.
//sarahmann