My heart
is filled
with ferns
so soft
and is surrounded
by thorns
so sharp.

I'm sorry
I wasn't the soft ground
At the bottom
Of the hard world
You fell on.

Its ten pm
and the lights are so much brighter
the roads feel so much longer
and every figure
is moving.
I'm not going crazy
the dark just does crazy things
to your mind
when you're lost in thought
on the highway.
and the streetlights
don't seem quite bright enough.
not yet.
don't know when.
but all I know is
I need to find my way home.

All roads lead to home,
So I left my car doors open,
And said you could come along.

All signs lead to light.
So I drew you maps
And said lead the way.

All oceans lead to land.
So I built you a boat
And you casted the sails.

And them you told me no.
That you would find your own home.
You tore my maps, and smashed my sails.

Left me unwanted.
And now you feel the *same

It started with a fence hinged with a friendly door
And your kind smile and hope filled eyes
For me to drop my tools
Take a break and invite you in for
Tea and coffee.
I shared with you my dreams
Engraved in my binded vessels
And I cocked my head happily
As I listened to your words
Pierce through my heart
Like such a graceful blade
Of pure comfort.

Oh how I miss that fence
You made it so easy
So easy
To open up.
Now it's locked shut
And I don't know where I lost
That key.

I've been patiently waiting
to make peaceful mends
with these veins and bones
that have been longing
for the
touch
of your everlasting
warmth
that ignites underneath my skin
and in my chest.

You're making my inner growth
and self healing heart
more complete
every day.

I used to string poetry
like linen on wire
so soft, and yet so damp.
My thoughts were the wind
and I could breeze all I could
through the sheets of paper
in my books.
Baskets of washed words
probably stained by the grass and grime
because I used to dig so deep
just to find the right words.
I used to be so fluent,
so inspired and free
I was wrapped in my linen
the sun was all that really spoke for me.
I used to reach up
and the rest would fall.
This was my poetry
and it fell to my desire.
I'm going to string my linen
and let the words return again.

This continuum of anxiety
itching at my lungs
choking for air
like its intangible
distantly shouting
for me to come catch it
the breath
the life
you ****** right out of me
the energy that you drained
from my
veins
as you begged for me to
stay
then left me dry and
shriveled
at the gate
where my demons
lay
waiting for me
to crumble in their
ash writhing
limbs.

The green leaves unfold
like palmistry revealing history
and future.
Sweet serendipity
for what can and what will be.
Keep calling back to me,
those sweet little friends.
That try to make mends
when they come and go
with the change of the seasons.
With untold reasons
but respected by the weather.

Things get better as they return in good health.

It's not like I was trying to get away.
I knew
that this road
was going to hit a
dead end.
I didn't want to get caught up
in this head on collision
of what I thought was a
soul connection
rather than just
false intimacy.

I thought that when we touched
it was a charge
that could light up the solar systems
or these streets
and
in our eyes
or fill our veins
with an adrenaline rush
that could only amount
to the closest feeling
of feeling alive.

But I don't want to feel this real again.

Take two of this movie scene
that I never asked to screenplay
and I'm tired of the same plot twists
again
and again.
I'm not your cheesy script
waiting to be denied and burned,
tossed and scrapped.
I don't want to be a torn piece of
anything.

But hey,
at least we had fun while it lasted.
don't expect for me to not
feel a little ashamed
or blame you
for doing what you do best:
"Attention *****-ing"
your life
while dropping
everyone who
mattered
behind
anyways.

I'm caught in this tesseract
And I've never understood
Why I box myself up.
These thoughts
Like lightening
Penetrate my skull
And I was always told to
"Let it go"
But how long do I go
Before the thoughts fall
And I catch them again?

Here's to the ones who are
hoping
that their firsts last
forever
when their forever's
never
lasted.

I crave the site
of your gaze
blazing through my pupils
to my center
like a lobotomy
but rather than striking my
frontals
pull me in
closer
and let your eyes tell me all I need to remember.

I lose my sense of time
and tend to fill in my book margins
with nonsense
while I draw my own map locations
and gather petals and herbs
for my own tea
sing my own words
to my own beat
twist my hair unnaturally
Wander aimlessly
Wait for the sunlight while the dark embraces
me
Hold my own hands
close to me
While I think of how your words
and my breath
tangle.

I've never really known where I
belong.
But I'm moving.
This is moving.

Happiness should be like
Quick trips
To grocery stores
And baking bread
At one am
While we dance
To our
Favorite songs
And talk about our
Dreams
And destinations.
Happiness should be
Togetherness
And honest innocence
No mistaken upholstered
romance
until the night falls
And happiness
Becomes
One.

Her name was Holiday. 

She smelled of pine,

and her eyes,

Glistened like the snow and ice 

That blankets the lanes

keeping the families stuck inside. 

Her voice was angel,

And she sang songs that only

Angels could hear. 

She told stories that only taught

Families what it really meant to be a 

Family, 

And what it really meant to give and 

Be grateful. 

Her hands were soft.

Her stature, so much grace. 

She had a way with warming up 

The cold

Like mittens you give to children

Or at least that’s what we’re told

In the fairy tales
that we will tell 

Our children before bed

On those December nights

When the cold freezes over the windows,

But the wood stove is

Still roasting.

Sleep deprivation makes the smoke rings
illuminate.
Scents become stronger.
the flames grow taller.
my tea is
warmer.
to touch is
much softer.
colors
invert.
words
deeper.
thoughts
slower.
stacked
pat­terns
repeated.
emotions
stagnant.
single
little
words
sleep deprivation
can
become
mind
******.

that musty,
musky smell.
that scent of reminder
of our short past
made longer.
I could've been what you wanted
your touch,
it was my comfort.
but I couldn't stomach
my guilt
I couldn't handle
the feels
I couldn't.
Could not.
because I didn't know what I wanted
but I know what i didn't want.
and I didn't want to fall short
dragging you down with
me.

painted skin
chest burst
breaking at the seems
we seem
to have found a love
that never dries
like paint bursts
on paper walls
that tear down
but can be taped back together

temperamental
but oh so peaceful

we have found a love
like paint
so many layers
and always so
vibrant.

There is something about the winter
That ready's me to start over.
To throw out my old
Run it over like layers
Of white out
And write out
Something new.
I am my journals entity
Human entry.
Page one, new season.
Learned lessons
New things to believe in.

You fill my
pockets
like rocks
weighing down
my legs
so i don't fly away
when the storm tries to *******
down.

Yearning and
Burning
This sensation of
Forever
Like incense smoke
Dancing
through my
Fingertips
Tripping it's way
In-between
My eyes
Like stardust
Always making wishes

the last time your face met mine
it was the last time your face met mine
the last time your eyes would shine
and sing that settling
steady
tune of life
you sang so eloquently.

I wanted to fill your sunken heart
with oxygen
and watch you breathe
and sing.
I wanted to board up
your broken walls
and cracked
windows
just to see you stand strong again.

There are needles
and threads
all tangled up
inside
my soul.
They're the reason
why I
unravel
but come
together
so full.

My house is stacked
Like shelves
Filled with knick knacks
And dust *****
And the kitchen floor is filled with crumbs
That ill sweep up
Tonight
And tomorrow
And the day after.

You shift like the wind
Pushing from one cloud to the next.
We think time speeds up by what
Moves around us,
But we mistake the time we have for whats left.

Caress those clouds and carry them in your heart,
Dont forget what you have, and you have all the time in the world.
Be grateful for what you've learned
And what you've taught.
Open you're eyes, listen to the sounds,
The Earth is always talking.
And she is watching through the shrouds.

Your eyes glossed over like
fog
on the windowsill
watching the unsettling
current
where your words were
tossed out
like rocks
to drown
you gargle and gasp
as I reach out grasping
hoping
to pull you to safety
reach for the net
let me pull you into my bed
steady your vessel
let the fog fade to water
and melt down
your face.

your eyes were glossed over
like the gloss on my lips
and I realized
its so unsettling
kissing
the drunken lips
of the poetic
mishap
that may one day
drop down
and hit the floor
where I will be there to
toss
my safety net
or you'll
already
be
long
gone.

I feel an empty space
from my head to my toes.
the empty sole
of my back
where I wished for your hands
to fill
just one night.

But instead you filled
my thoughts
and drained
from out my toes.
I always was a barefoot traveller,
but now
I wish I wore shoes
more often.

You sting like the
liquor
dripping
to the
back
of
my throat.

I didn't expect that
letting you in
would shred me down
and tear my skin
like tissue paper
exposing me like
the cliche open
wound.
But good thing I always
carry
extra bandaids
and sometimes a
needle and
thread
because when you have
learned
to patch up
your life
like a quilt
you'll want to wrap yourself up
and remember
to stay warm and
safe.
Remember
thing's may not be
easy
but remember what its
like
to be soft
and secure.

I am a timeless breath of air,
And you are the taste of a downing river.
Pushing towards oceans,
Where salty air finds company.
I am a timeless soul searcher,
And where I will find you
Will be with a breath of fresh air.
Down by the oceans,
Scoured by your salt.

Save your blame

Hide it behind your back

Like it’s one of your weapons

And take the blame

When your weapons

Misfire.

Surprise shot

You hurt those around you.

And if you don’t feel the 
Guilt
It’ll eat up inside of you.

I built a hundred bridges
Just to jump of each one
And as I floated down
And fell
Into the waters that we once
Breezed so slowly through
I realized that the rocks
Beneath the surface
Weren't as vivid
Until they hit the edges of my bones
And collapsed my chest.
These spines cannot take
Any more jumps
And my heart can't take any more
Strikes
This lump in my throat can't seem
To keep itself from
Flairing
While my words can't seem to calm
Me down.

I don't know what I'm trying to say
But maybe one day I will.
Just as long as you remember
What I did say
Is all that really mattered.
Because even though the pages of our books burned and tore at the bindings
My spine never cracked when I said
All the things I did
Without hesitation.
When you read my palms as they intertwined with yours
And when you read my back like it was brail
You open me up much deeper
Into the story
And that will never go
Unread or burned.

There was a point in my life once
where my bones felt so brittle
and bore so much stiffness
that when my knees and knuckles cracked
they screamed.

It's been so long.
My words keep slipping
Through my fingers
Like water.
But I'm hoping to fill
Buckets
And be the one
To put your flame
Out.

The scent of the rain
will never smell the same.
Your cologne,
it stains my sheets,
and I cant bring myself
to remove a memory
that will never repeat.

You were on fire
on fire
and I was weary
I didn't put you out
and eventually
I've let
you
burn
my
skin.

And now I can't rid
of your
smell
like sitting in
a bonfire
but this season
won't be like the last.

Not without your flame.

I had a long drive
with my
distant memories
and found
nostalgia
in the sunrise I
discovered
in the end.
Sometimes wrong turns
can lead you
just where you need to
be.

The snow isn't going
to fall
the same this year.
Thanksgiving isn't going
to be traditional like it
used to be.
I am forced to miss everything
and everything is going
to suffocate
me.

As swollen your sunken eyes
could ever be
you still will never be able to
open your eyes
and understand how much
you truly mean to me.
So i'll sit my head
on my palms
as you fall asleep on my shoulder
and wonder
if this will be our winter
or if you're just hallucinating
from the heat
and your cold.

I never strip my heart on papers
unless its on days I cannot stand to hold myself together.
Sometimes I strip my heart into ribbons
And tie them around little boxes
To give to those that maybe one day will wonder
"This girl, such a giver, but never got a thing"
This girl,
such a giver,
but never genuinely got a thing.

If only your
intentions
had matched the
good soul
in your eyes
and in your
lovely skin
and bones.

the way you
drag
your cigarettes.

so brand new,
every moment,
every conversation
or none at all.

yet you fear
new.
you fear discomfort.

but keeping on,
dragging,
your cigarettes.
as if you are confident you aren't now losing time
when time is the most
precious,
dragging,
detail,
of our every day
opportunities.

You never realize
how alone you truly are
until its 3 am
and your home is silent,
the music is still playing
but you don't hear the words,
your seeing everything
but nothing,
and you want to speak
but you can't find your voice.

One to one
or one to no one.
So far apart yet so close
and we still think
we have it hard.
But how do you think the stars feel?
Light years from each other.
If they can go years
I can go a few days.
Or a few weeks.
Maybe a couple of months.
A year later, and maybe some more.
Yeah, I think I'm beginning to know
how the stars feel.
But at least I still get to see the
sun rise
every morning.

Ink my body.
It is the only proof
that permanence exists.
That above all things
ever lasting
even if attempted to be removed
it will always be there.
and "it" becomes a part of "you",
Regardless
of how you change.

I didn't think my desire
to see
your eyes light up
and ignite
like fire
would come back and
burn
so bad.

I didn't think my desire
to see
your eyes light up
and ignite
like fire
would come back and
burn
so bad.

The rain
will never sound the same
as it did in the summer
when all we did was
stay in late together
and imagine what life would be like
if we could just lay and create
our own soundtrack
to the rhythm of the rain
and speak to each other
in silence.