Sara not so plain and not so tall
Daydreaming in the shopping mall
As blond as a summer day
Speaking of herself in a peculiar way:

"I'm pretty, yes, but I wish to be better;
To be the admiration of a love letter."

But her beauty is the kind that lasts
And makes your heart beat especially fast.
Finland born but London found,
Lovely, sure, but greatness bound.

And the nights grow more tiresome,
as her chest beats a tattered drum.
Her mood too dreary for speckled eyes
that will dim if night blurs into sunrise.

"Sleep why do you run from me,
as my memories grow.
Eyelids, be a blanket,
And melatonin, a pillow."

Victoria Lucas in her head,
as the bell does ring until fed
by the words that sound soft to us
but are actually strong and thus
she is misunderstood-lips are red-
Like Greenwood inspired, kissed dread:
She can save herself before jarred,
Before feathered, before tarred.

And it is my faith that lets me know,
That her happiness will one day grow
Because Sara not so plain and not so tall
Is the strongest of them all

She likes fashion and interviews. I like getting lost.
Sometimes she grabs my bulge,
as she drinks from an aluminum flask.
She told me to rhyme something with 'flask'.
I said, "Fine. In your life, you've been wearing a mask.
But I can see. And you can see. They can't see.
That you are a detached, blond doll
and your back is against the wall,
as I kiss your neck until you're dead."
She said to rhyme something with 'dead'.
I said, "Fine. You ******* in my head.
And it's quarrelsome
that they don't see that you're numb.
I'd pull on your lip, with my teeth.
Dig my hand between your legs.
Just to make you feel. Just to make you feel.
And I study your hairbrush
to see that there are too much
strands of memories from melodies
that lay dormant in ballrooms
and scented kisses
that drip of the misses
in your life and mine."
She said **** me with your words.
I refused because I'd rather watch her bloom
in my dreams than the seams of
a fiber noose that rings loose
the bell in your neck
that sounds until birds fly
and we die-
You look at me,
"Home."

I.
I've got piles of poems lying at the back of my mind
and they all whisper your name
and try to get me to cave
into the moons of your eyes
when you smile a little too hard and
they reach up until the sides of your irises.

But my heart always beats a little too much
and a little too late when I think about you.
It's singing love songs and causing chaos
ahead,
and above,
and all around this **** place.

And maybe, just maybe,
I'm in for much more than I expected
because I'm getting caught up
in potpourri promises
and hope—
stupid hope.

I've got so much on my mind,
and the majority has engraved
w o r r y
into the lining of my temporal lobe
because I cannot seem to shake out your voice
and your smile

and hands
and how they held mine with such clarity
and sincerity
and it's your laugh when you throw your head backwards in exasperation
and when you look at me with those eyes—
those crazy brown eyes.

II.
But I can't tell if I'm losing my mind again
or just throwing it around like a soccer ball
to feel something.

I just don't want you to wake up one day,
with fire in your eyes
and flames at your fingertips

trying to resist the steam rising from your ears
and your smile will fade into the smoke
and your eyes won't mirror my awe

because in that moment I might just burn to ash
at the sight of you changing your mind,
darling.

I might just disintegrate
at the thought of you turning around
and never looking back.

gd

I met this guy in
white Ralph Lauren
and right then and there
I knew we couldn't be friends.

We clicked like a puzzle;
literally every piece seemed to interlock
and I couldn't keep my eyes away
as if this burning desire lay between us
across some paperweight bridge of tension
and affection

and please, I just want to cross it
and I want to throw my hands up
and scream to the mountains
and just yell ***** it! at the top of my lungs
and plunge into whatever void his presence has planned for me

because I can't seem to
shake him off of my mind,
so I know this is already bad.

I can feel it chattering and creating a
foundation under my epidermis
scattering my nerves in places
I did not think were possible
and there sits a bed-sized
crater just for him. And I
know it's bad, I know
it. And I shouldn't
even care and I
shouldn't let it
happen but
here I am
o  n  c  e
again.

gd

I sat on the cold hard ground
My tears soft as the velvet cloudless sky
Slowly breathing
Inhaling one star at a time
Trying to light up my mind
Feeling the ice crack within my lungs
Everything is in slow motion
My blood no longer runs like a rapid thundering river
Slowly it seeps through the broken arteries of my heart
So much has changed, I think of how much I have aged
I can feel the invisible demons clawing their way back
I will sigh as I can hardly control them
As they multiply like a virus
They are silently waiting now
Waiting for something
The perfect moment to release their toxins
But for now
I lay on the silent ground
Listening to the earth breath
Allowing the winter night to swallowing me
Nature keeping the demons at bay

Thinking of you brings waves of tranquil anxiety.

As everyone else talks and laughs
I watch quietly from afar
It seems so natural for everyone else
But for me just feels bizarre

My generation is so obsessed
With things I just don't get
They grind, they kiss, they 'get a room'
With people they've just met

I watch it happen again and again
My friends all want to 'score'
But for me that wild party life
Is nothing but a bore

I'd rather be playing a card game
Than raving at some club
And I'd much prefer an exciting book
Than drinking at some pub

So maybe I'm a bit different...
I'm an ace you just can't play
I spend some 'boring' times alone
But....honestly, that's okay