Seaside shorelines, borderline beginnings.

I think I know what I want.

Paths between fait and faith,
forgiveness, overbearing.

Like twists and turns of tides, riptides, or undertow,
You will probably never know.

Know where you are going.

Tomorrow is like looking through a kaleidoscope of different outcomes.

Be it triumph be it trump.

Be it failure, be it sunk.

It's all in how you see it,

I suppose.

I wish I could see properly.

We had been friends.

Friends for not very long.

I had never seen you before that day,
that day that you walked into grade 11 drama class.

I only knew one person in that class.

A friend of a friend.

When we were asked to get into groups of three.

You came over and I was annoyed but like the flip the flip of a switch I went from hatred to love.

I fell in love with you faster than a green light turns red.

I was so young.

16 turning 17 when I met you.

That feels weird on my tongue.

Many walks, moves, movies, and music later, something happened.

I don't know what it was.

But you let me kiss you, and you kissed me back.

My brain traced back to highschool in those moments, and how long I  had been waiting for this.

You kissed me, and kissed me.

And told me I was beautiful.

I cannot express how that time felt to me, H.

This is one part of one story.

What do you do
when you become
one with your demons.

Once they've been there
for so long,
that you no longer fear them.

I'm sure at first it felt as if you were under attack,
or
imprisoned within the walls of this cell that we call our minds.

What happens when you start to get over it,
when you start to leave
that demon behind.

What happens
when you suddenly find yourself
associating your self
with it,

not knowing how to be yourself,
without it's prickling paws,
it's suction cupped claws.

Is this some kind of mental stockholm syndrome?

It must be.

Feeling like you can't face breakfast without your baggage.

I need to learn how to detach.

I took her to my best friends house,

Was hard to convince her,
but eventually she came out.

Picked her up in my best friends car,
didn't have a license but,
it wasn't far.

She came to see me, and I was glad,
Best night that I've ever had.

I sang some songs and then kissed her, I held her in my arms
and whispered.

When I took her home it was 4am,
said I'd love to do this again.

She messaged me to say thankyou,
and that I made a
purple sweater look cute.

I loved her then, and I love her now. I know its crazy but thats the truth somehow.

Yellow sunglasses, hockey puck, love notes and a special rock.

You hugged me when I told you so.

But closed your eyes and then said no.

Still think about you sometimes though,
and hope that you do the same too.  

YoU hAvE * uNrEaD mEsSaGeS

"*, you make an oversized magenta hoodie and a purple beanie look beautiful"

", I'm falling for you,"

"I', sorry, I can't be with you..."

*beep, beep beep

I remember the first time I made you laugh.

I was trying not to say the word "like"

But I like couldn't do it.

You laughed so hard so hard you snorted.

I used to walk home in the wrong direction just to be with you,

I remember the time you yelled at kids throwing **** into the ravine.

I wonder if you ever considered the fact that I was in love with you.

Well, sure you did.

But you chose no.

Like the idiot I am, I sprained ******* on the side I most use to write.

Is this some paradox?

By the way if you get the chance could you do me a favour and define paradox for me?

****,

This is hard. I keep typing things I don

t mean too.

See what I mean?

It's strange how one single finger can change the entire way you do things/

The entire way you type.

It's getting to be too much trouble to try and fix the errors.

But I suppose that is how life is.

My finger keeps trying to move in directions it cant possibly go.

Understandable.

I am chaos and I am desire.

So say my dreams.

It's always between the two.

Last night I had a pleasant dream that I was dating her.

It was sweet.
Precious even.

But when I awoke I had to deal with different things.

It's stupid that I still write about her, but what can you do.

The heart wants what the heart wants, so someone said.

Right now my heart only seeks friendship from her. Ot at least,
closure.

She didn't even want to give me that.

Dear H.

Love R,

I can’t believe this will be my last night
in the room I grew up in.

The room I cried in and laughed in.
The mattress on which I vomited, and masturbated, and had *** for the first time.

The window where I smoked **** against my parents wishes,

and the room that I drank myself silly in.

The room I fell in love in,

and was brutally heartbroken in.

This is my last night here.

There's always a girl.

That one,

girl.

There are always simple things in life that we cling onto for no apparent reason.

But maybe for those same reasons, we think about that one girl.

It could be the most simple of things.

An umbrella, a pair of sunglasses, a hockey puck, a used towel, a plastic dinosaur, a novel, a feeling, a kiss.

It can be burned in forever.

Only to be melted away by the warmth that is Spring.

Only thawed, never burned.

The moon changes it's shape to please your eye.

I know you won't believe it.

Even if the moon is eclipsed or out of sight, it will change it's shape to suit you right.

Stand under it, right now.

Even if you can't see her she's there.

And when she appears looking broken and uncompleted, in your eyes it will change to a perfect sphere.

Just for you.

So pay attention to that, and appreciate her for all that she is.

Because for you she would change her entire shape, just to please you.

The moon always hangs in the sky.

Like a delicate flower she was,
hanging in a french cafe.

She could have been so much more than she was.

Highschool sweet hearts.
At least, it could have been that easy.

I asked her to prom as a joke but she said yes.

But because of the over bearing hetero norm town I was living in, I said yes to a boy as well.

That was my first mistake.

I should have stayed with her.

I was never straight nor bi, never will be.

I am a lesbian to the core.

But I let the wrong person in.

For too long.

I still look for her face in crowds.

Maybe one day we will reunite.

But until then I have found the real love of my life, my future wife.

This was a lesbian fairy tale.

Because I have been absorbing.

Reading novel, after novel.

And listening to the same music on repeat.

I don't know how I managed to switch into such a state.

I went from reading nothing to reading pages upon pages of Japanese fiction.

I feel like it has done me good.

I am almost ready to come out of the rabbit hole that is Murakami,
and find my own voice.

The concept is there,

I just need the resolution.

I feel as though I am cursed.

Because,

I see her everywhere.

On the streets, on the train, at home.

I am always looking for her.

Hoping to one day run in to her one more time.

I know the chances of this are slim but I still like to dream.

...

More disturbingly I still seem to see her everywhere I look.

It's as if, she had fixed, to have a dozen look-a-likes roam the streets.

I know this isn't the case...

I just think that I see her everywhere I go.

And one tiny part of me is hoping that one day,

I will see her for real.

What I would say?

Who knows.

I chase my meds with alcohol.

She wants me to stop but I wont.

I feel as if I was the one to stop at the strange river and gulp down the water.

In place of the character in the novel I am reading.

I feel connected and yet disconnected from this reality.

As if I were born again.

I have no memories of that past self anymore.

The other day I was asked,

if I had ever been in a toxic relationship before.

It was a conversation between manager and managee, but we don't see it that way.

We are friends.

And we got onto the topic of crazy exes.

And so I told my story. About the one man I dated before coming out of the closet.

And how he threw me into the ground, after pulling a knife on me.

To be honest I threw him to the ground first.

It was after a concert.

And we were both drunk.

But after a slip up I made we ended up on a train going the wrong way.

And I had a panic attack.
He didn't like that.

He took my phone and pretended to throw it across the tracks.

So of course, I was in distress.

And I cried, and I cried.

And I had been on the phone with my mom, my one true confidante and he stripped that away.

To this day, I still look back on this moment as abuse. Why did no one help me?

He pulled a knife from his pocket and said if I did not stop crying he would slit his wrists.

At that I lost it.

We had a mutual friend who had killed himself.

How dare this ******* threaten the same thing.

Despite the fact that he was an ex MMA fighter I took him down.

I hooked my leg against his and shoved him down into the ground and screamed at him, saying he shouldn't say such things.

And rather than hold me, he flipped me into the dirt and pushed mt face down. I tasted gravel.

Anyone who wanted to help was barked away by him.

Why was I so alone.

Why did no one come.

The rest of us ended in similar situations.

He then proceeded to sleep with my best friend.

And I broke up with more than one person that day.

It's almost like separation anxiety but long dormant.

When your spouse leaves the house and doesn't come back when she usually does.

Your heart physically aches.

Aches to be held and to see her face.

Of course, you know she is safe but there is no where safer than lying next to me in bed.

Being able to stroke her head and feel her presence next you you.

Moments like these can be scary, and at the same time, quite refreshing and beautiful.

Knowing that there is someone in your life that you care so deeply about.

Almost like breathing.

You cannot live without oxygen, and I feel whole heartedly that I cannot live without her beside me.

Some may call that crazy, and crazy it is.

To be crazy in love with another human.

To feel almost apart of them.

It is a dangerous game to play, the game of love.

Because you have not only your own life to be cautious of and worry about, but also that of another.

Without this love, you may be stress free.

But when you have it, and if you have it you know.

That you would rather stay up waiting for that other half of your self to return to you,

than to sit alone, in silence,

wondering what that could

be like.

Is a song by Noah and The Whale.


When I first heard that song, it was Spring.

And it was the Spring that I realized that I was in love for the first time.

In love with a girl.

We were friends and I would go out of my way to walk home with her.

I lived in a small town, and all paths lead the same way. But I would take a longer one just for those extra minutes together.

I remember the first time I made her laugh. It was over something stupid and minuscule, but laugh she did.

And I soaked every chord of sound that it held and remember it to this day.

Love is a funny thing. It's like once it happens you can never forget it.

If you did forget it, then it wasn't real love.

It's as simple as that.

I would walk with her to this crossroad and we would pause.

At first it was a few minutes at best, but as summer came around it was minutes upon minutes of dragging out this time together.

She was studious, and always made the excuse to go home and study.

And that time came later and later the more we continued this pattern.

But without fail,

whenever we would part ways and she would walk past the catholic school and I would descend into the trees, after waving goodbye until we could no longer see eachother, I would put on this song.

And I would revel in it, taking in every note ever lyric.

And in my young 17 year old heart I knew. Something knew...

That this song would eventually have severe and deep meaning to me.

That someday it would strike something in my heart that made me understand why everything had happened and that it had happened for a reason.

That moment came today.

On the first day of Spring.

When I randomly remembered that songs named and played it,

And all of these memories came flooding back.

Like a blocked stream finally flowing.

Connecting with my past self and knowing, that I have come
so far.

If you're read my poems before, just know that this is about the same girl.

That one.

The one that got away.

Can be the scariest moment of your life if it is true.

The scariest time.

Yes you are in love, but you also fear for what could happen if you lose it.

I'm not talking about cheating or disconnect,

I am talking about death.

The worst thing you could ever imagine, is your partners death, and what you would do without them.

It's an unbearable pain. Even if hypothetical.

It's tragic, it's lonely, it's toxic.

You start thinking of all the things you would do if you suddenly found your boo dead.

It's such a particular dread.

I know I have anxiety.

And that is what causes these thoughts.

But still I think about what would I do,

I she were to leave this earth.

The funny thing is we have this kind of suicide pact. If she were to leave I would follow and vice versa.

Sometimes I wonder if that is really true. And I picture life without you.

And all I see is me

drowning at the

bottom of the

ocean.

I would happily gulp down waves of salt if it were fact that I could

never see her again.

Blue, blue

raspberry.

Is that a real flavour?

Summer time, sun shines which is rare in Canada.

I remember changing outfits several times.

Sweat dripping like regret lingering, and being totally unsure of the whole situation.

Was she who she said she was?

But after driving my car up to the train station and seeing her there, leaning against the concrete so obsolete so complete. Hair spiked into a mohawk, sunglasses covering her eyes.

I took her for ice cream in my whip. I didn't know it then but she liked that.

After icecream we go for a walk but don't get very far before I say um I'm parked illegally.

So we go back and I drive her to the pier. Nothing to see here.

But she did ask to hold my hand.

Have you ever been on a first date so pure?

And we were no where near done.

She asked to hold my hand and I said yes.

And then I took her minigolfing.

I dropped her off at the station around 7pm.

We have not gone more than a week without seeing eachtother since that first date.

Im fact we live together,
and are getting married.

It's times like these that I would have messaged you in vein, in pain.

But I know I can't do that anymore.

Even though it hurts and you would have listened, would have been too eager to listen.

I know it was all wrong.

But at the same time there is no one here to take your place.

I live in a small world with few to talk to. And when the one person you rely on most isn't talking back.

You sometimes need that support of someone else who will listen. And let you rant.

I need a new best friend.

I've been hurt before, spread like a rash, but I'm fine. I still think about that clown but at least for now I can forget that face and move on ****** race like a samurai.

Don't **** with me because I can see right through you and I knew you and you knew me but at this moment it all boils down to what happened.

On that faithful day, ay. What the **** this dates back to 1955.

I don't know, I don't know.

But I do know you oppose things like abortion and gay relations.

In this day and age you gotta go.

So please kindly **** of please disappear.

Lets go back to when you weren't here.

Let's go back to the whispers in my ear.

I had you then I didn't.

Would you rat out the stoners at plinko to this day?

When I was very young, I started to develop an eating disorder.

I was a toddler. My parent's first child and I went mental when they tried to serve me vegetables.

I would discard them in the radiator and sooner than later a technician was called.

And my parent's were appalled when they realized the reason was that their child refused to eat what she was served.

This continued into early childhood.

I lived with my grandmother who I've called Grandy forever.

She made the same three dishes every week. Macaroni Pie, Rice, or Potatoes.

On the odd occasion,  I would get pizza or pasta.

Macaroni and Cheese, or something else that pleased my taste buds.

I quickly tired of this pattern and a disgust for these meals arose.

I could no longer eat them without wanting to *****.

When I was no older that four years old, my parents tried to feed me a few days or a week old alphageti. That was the first time I ever gaged on a meal.

But those moments came more often than I would like as I grew.

I filled up on chocolates and candy, slices of pepperoni so I wouldn't have to eat the **** I din't like.

This distaste of my Grandy's food turned into a fear of food itself.

I couldn't be experimental, I hated having to eat.

I wished I could just take a pill and defeat the hunger that haunted me.

For years I became anorexic. And not because I wanted too, but because for all that time food was my enemy.

When I was in daycare, I hated sweets of any kind and had never had a sip of soda. But once night when my parents were late to pick me up.

All Dee had was marshmellows and seven up.

I hated the sweet treats that would burn my teeth and the soda that would burn my tongue.

But I was young and no one cared.

I didn't allow myself to eat for several years until I ended up falling in love with a girl who cares.

But some nights when I am drunk and to lazy too cook,

I find myself in the kitchen eating an uncooked hot dog,  

and I remember where it all came from.

I still hate sweets and soda to this day.

But at least now,

I eat.

For me,

it happened twice.

Once when she asked me to tell her something,
or to tell her
anything.

So I told her I loved her,
and I wanted her,
to be mine.

And her eyes widened.
She got scared, was
unprepared.

The saddest thing she ever told me, was that she could not be with me.

Until she was.

Again, and again.

She kissed me, she held me.

Until she said don't talk to me ever again.

That was the most heart breaking moment,
of
my life.

I know her and I love her.

To the point that I dream about her and look for her.

Nothing feels right when she isn't there.

She is my everything she is my..

I can't go a day without talking to her.

We live in the same house and I could not imagine greeting anyone else in the morning.

She is the sun and the moon.

She is a sunday afternoon watching cartoons.

She is the love of my life.

She is everything and all of it she is my wife.

Being in love is like winning a game,

You feel so proud and you never feel the same.

You want to scream her name from high buildings.

She is my angel, she is my baby.

I would die.

We are so scary in love that if one of us were to
kick the can

the other one would follow.

An almost suicide pact.

If she was taken from me I don't know.

I would probably seek out our moms.

If my girl was taken from me I probably would not see the point of living,

YES. I fell in love again.

I told you it's happened twice.

But this time she loves me too and she cares about me, and I care about her.

She aint **** and my new mami is the one for me.

I would be confused
conflicted
confronted.

And I might kiss her.
Sorry.

I have a lovely wife.

But I still write about her.

She was a true dinger.

There's whiskey in the jar.

Some people like to count how many women they mount.

But for me?

There's whiskey in the jar.

I've been in love two (2) times.

Once with a ***** and then with a beauty, the one in my nest.

I love my beauty but sadly I'll never forget the *****.

Don't lie,

She who must not be named.

(Her name was Hannah)

Imagine where you would be,
if you were on your own.

Would you be dead?

The people in your life is what kept you together.

If may say so.

And you should say so too.

You would not be who you are, if it's weren't for somebody.

Because love, is a sweet thing.

Love does what it wants to do.

Love, is the way I feel for you.

We're family.

Hold me tight, I'm not a sinner.
Please don't take me
as
a beginner.

I am not
a
good person.

I look at you and want to
scorn you.

I tear my hair
from
my own skull.

And nothing seems to quell the
pain.

I could lie here forever.
I like it like that.

Blankets over heads,
pillow fort synagogue.

I am plastic and wax,
I melt at the touch.

Please don't abandon me friend.

I'll call you from a pay-phone sometime.

But I am not coming home.

I am fine.

Nothing can hurt me.

Sometimes saying goodbye is easier that holding on.

Sometimes it's better to let it go.

Let me go.

//

I am quiet like a rabbit.

Rabbit racing heart.

You were,

Everything and then all at once,
nothing.

Darling dear can you hear my desperate calls.

I wanted you, I wanted you all.

I laid out blankets so that we could picnic why did you panic.

We had everything.

I danced with you at prom. I wrapped my arms around you and told you I wanted you to be mine.

But you didn't understand.

And then years later I tried again and I told you.

I held you in my arms and I felt you.

And you felt me.

We agreed.

We were one for a short period of time.

I drove you home and you called me beautiful.

You said you had never felt this way before.

But then what did you do?

You betrayed me and found a man, or two.

You were here, and then you were there.

I had you once, and it isn't fair.

A part of me will,
always
love
you.

She's only 17.

She hasn't seen what I've seen.

I know that I am no good for you.

I am bleeding through white T-shirts.

What's a T-shirt.

I am dead like this.

I wish like this.

Don't fall in love with a person who cannot love you.

I am drowning in her words, I am starving for her words.

Please don't leave me.
Please don't leave me.

I guess sometimes you have to say goodbye.

And let it go.

But at least let me know, next time.

I love you.

And I was quiet coming home.

I loved you, I liked you, I liked you like this.

I could lie and say I never liked you but,

I loved you.

Writing poetry that isn't laced in pain, laced in
solitude.

Writing down not names, writing down absolutes.

I don't know up from down at this point. Am I listening to the same song can you pass me a joint.

I used to be so loud and confident.

Even though people saw me as ugly as a loser.

And that I was but who cares lol.

All ya'll aging like cheese so please let me be as I age like wine hahaha.

I'm FINE?

Or might delete in the am

I love that the button says write.

Yes ma'am.

I feel like I feel everything.

Every thing at once.

Every sound, every smell, taste, and touch.

I am but a new me.

Shedding my skin like a lizard starved for water.

Starting again like becoming a father.

I feel like I see things in a different light.

For the first time in a while, I feel like,

it's going to be alright.

I just knocked my vape off my desk with how viciously I am typing but the reason is that I am just so ****** happy to be writing
again.

It's really ****** up when a moment steals your voice.

A moment, a person, a day or a  
year.

It happens to the best of us.

But you also liked boys.

Remember the summer when I was your number
one choice.

When I had you in my arms.

After dark, sparks sparked.

Do you remember watching Mulan with your sisters, do you remember slipping your hand under my blanket to grip my thigh so sweetly.

Do you remember kissing after dark do you remember going to the park.

Do you remember when I picked you up in an illegal car and you got in and gawked.

Do you remember calling me beautiful.

Do you remember kissing and laughing, do you remember the sweet kisses against my ear.

Do you remember me, and whispering in my ear.

Do you remember that summer holding me and asking me to tell you a story.

Do you remember me falling asleep on your thighs and you taking me up to bed and resting my head against your bed. Draping a blanket over me.

Did you ever love me?

Or did you lie.

Either way, you made me

cry.

I really don't know what to say,

other than the fact that I want to cut but this is a better outlet.

God.

I want it so bad. Why do I want to hurt?

My girl is asleep.

Why can't I focus on her.

Instead I have this burning desire to strike pain in my own veins.

I don't know if I'll make it tonight clean.

We will see.

I write so I don't slice.
It keeps coming back to me.

That stupid demon that tells me to beckon a knife.
And to just make one small slice.

God I hate it.

One moment I am fine and the next moment I don't know whats come over me rhyme or reason but I wan't to take my blade.

And...

I don't know.

When I go to work my manager bought us box cutters.

And although they are convenient I avoid them.

And when he asked me why I just chuckled and sighed and said I don't know how to use them.

When the real reason was
every time I held one
I was
contemplating how deep they would cut.

Waterfalls like water falls.

Slowly and yet all at once.

I feel the same way about falling in love.

Once I see her I fall or I

fall.

Forgive me for being so glum.

Hum, hum.

I am fine and I am humble.

The smell of death isn't sweet.

Discrete, discrete.

Death is but a child.

A child I kneel to and ;come, come come.

The moon falls and rises,
follow the light.

She whispers places of safety.

I burst to flames and parts decay.

I fall, I fall.

Places, places to
see.

I am undone.

Come, come.

I walk down the street, through the forest. I see ashes of those who tried. Tried to come.
come.
come.

It's over now isn't it?

I see rivers, I see oceans.
Stay uniquqe.

You don't know me.

You don't know how much I want to slice my skin.

You don't know this type of adrenaline.

I want to take a knife my skin and have no mercy.

I want to see blood run I want to see gory.

It's a terrible sickness that I have kept at bay.

But today, right now.

I want to drag a blade against my flesh.

Forgive me though,

because I live life in PG.

And I won't do that to you and I won't do that to me.

Good riddance.

Tree branches, swing sets and sun sets,
that was my childhood.

Bare feet in the sand, the wood-chips and the asphalt.

I wasn't like the other girls.

Maybe that's why I was bullied.

But even before then boys pulled on my curls like door knobs although I made a doorbell impression.

People have been yanking my tail since before I could speak.

Bleak.

Have you ever had
one of those moments.

It can be something as simple as a missing pen, a missing beanie baby.

Or maybe you forgot your phone at home.

But suddenly nothing else matters.

And nothing makes sense.

You are lost and all that matters is solving the problem at hand. But you can't understand what to do next.

You whimper and cry and you freak out and swat and people look at you funny.

And maybe you are with you significant other and she doesn't seem to be able to muster up the rhyme of reason to your treason and you are stuck in an unspeakable battle against yourself.

Those moments when you shake and shiver, when time goes slow and your thoughts thinner.

Don't care what's for dinner because chances are you're going to throw it up.

Seriously? Crazy. Crazy seriously.
At least in some eyes.

Swallow back that pill honey.
It's the only thing keeping you from jumping off that balcony.

Weird things,
trigger my poetry.

Weird things, weird rhymes.

Weird dreams, that get the best of me.
Weird meaning, weird time.

You can never get the full effect,
unless,
you hear me reading it out loud.

From the heart and from the soul.

You can never know where the
emphasis

Comes from.

Or where it goes.

I like to look at life in perspective.

I'm not getting old I just feel old.

I grew up in a time period where hopscotch became snake became snake became Ipods.

Hands became tripods became selfie sticks.

I am young and I am old.
It all depends on who you ask.

For now I would just like to bask in the youth I still have.

Because bet your *** in a few years from now I'll be looking back on tonight in spite at how much time I once had.

I am a skater.

Sort of.

I ride a longboard.

And one time, I skated home in love.

It was 6am. And the sun was starting to rise again.

After spending the night at her place.

At the point I didn't do sleepovers. I loved to smoke **** and watch reruns of old **** that made me laugh.

But that night.

I didn't care that I was sober, that I was ugly.

I didn't care that I wanted a bowl. Of food of ****. It didn't matter.

All that mattered was her hand on my thigh, the silent sigh. The moment her sister when up to her room at five in the morning.

After watching countless shows and music videos we finally were alone.

And we kissed and we stripped and we were marry. We almost had *** but then she carried me, to her bed.

And laid me down and with a smile she covered me with a blanket.

I couldn't take it.

So I woke myself up and kissed her good bye.

Maybe that was my first mistake.

And then I skated down the hill to my house. On my longboard

And it was morning.
I took selfies at that moment wanting to pinpoint the memory.

But nothing was stopping me from playing all the previous nights actions in my my head and in my mind.

She broke my heart in the rain. I've never felt so much pain.

And then I finally fell asleep.

Kisses after dark.

Her mother was away.
But her Dad was awake.

He didn't care, he liked me. I like him.

But the rest of that family considered him a sinner.

For what I don't know.

But I was in love with his daughter.

And he knew that and didn't care.

He let us kiss until midnight. He let us kiss until we were out of breath.

The night I spent the night he gave me the slight and didn't say a word.

I was hungry but her arms were on me and when 6am came she draped a blanket over me but I knew I had to leave.

I only tell this story so you're not alone.

She hurt me. And it hurst me to tell this story.

She snuck me out before her father could see me. I skated home and took selfies. I was so happy.

But then she told her mom, and she made sure I would be gone.

I am convinced had Hannah's mother not gotten envolved Hannah would have broke my heart in a different way.

Time knows no one, and no one knows time.

Empty streets, waxing and waving moon,
lovely moon.
Falling for you.

The smell of death.

Back of the cabin.

I burst through flames.

Wax and wave.

I am just a child.

I am blind I am blind folded.

Can anyone come, come...
Come to my rescure.

Before it's too late.

I walk these streets and I before I can fleet I need you to come,
come, come, come.

Oh Boy.

I don't know.

Come, come, come, come.

Boy, the boy is too young.

The boy is too
young.

I really love this platform, I do,
I do.

But have you ever noticed that they censor certain things?

Words like **** and ****, sure why not.

But words like lesbian?

Lesbian, lesbian, lesbian. I am a lesbian.

And I am trying to prove a point.

Can some one do me a favour and comment lesbian and we can see if we get blocked by stars.

Blocked by stars like curse words like the word lesbian should be bad.

I don't know about this algorithm anymore.

I was playing at the park waiting for my spot at Violin lessons.

I was not a member of this school.

Girls in unifrom I was probably like 10 years old.

I was taking violin classes at a super fancy school.

I remember going to the playground and two girls in uniforms tried to beat me up.

I was nimble.

Another time at a public school on the time two girls tried to beat e up.

I don't know if it was because I am half black or what.

I am glad I am no longer there.

When I get in this mood to write, and write, and write.

Why does it never feel right.

I feel like a writer devout of a soul.

I feel like a story that's already been told.

I feel like just another lesbian who was in love with a straight girl.
Even though we fooled around and I loved her when I first met her.

Obviously, that is all the past, but why do I feel so compressed as to only write poems about her?

It's not fair but ******* it her hair.
You weren't there.

Eyes of green and visits so rare.

I know what I felt and I know what I saw.

As nervous and young she was still in awe,

She told me I was beautiful and falling in love.
For me that was a blessing from a goddess above.

Of course she left me for a white man.

Little did I know she was just an experimental
white
girl.

If I was stressed out before I am more so now.
The world is ending and I don't know how

to go on.

To leave behind familiar faces and places.

I am finally at peace.

Or am I.

I miss the days of not knowing. Of not growing.

I miss the days of being a complete fool in school.

Why do I feel so much dumber than then,
with way less friends.

I want to fill my brain with knowledge.