release me
i am shaking with broken wings just beneath the rafters of your home
shifting shapes and twisting arms to find a basement in my bones
stuck in boxes with no top to hold the mess that i've become
another scar, a second lover or tale that's just begun
and this is how it will begin: your mess will fill my broken ends,
our stories start the same, my friend - we suffer for our own commends.

i didn't want to freak you out, but i have to say:
everyone you love will tear you down
and before you know it, you will hardly remain--two empty cigarette boxes and a well-worn frown.
-aprilxcv

she's endless rain, my hurricane
rustling thoughts and a small-built frame
tearing walls from every heart, house, fence
for enemies and half-made friends

it doesn't take her much to bend
the fragments of my mind, but then
she'll pick them up and play pretend
as if it wasn't me she's in

our carousel, through valleys, hills
a journey with no shoes to fill
she'll take me where she wants to be
whether or not it's good for me

this wandering, this aching love
it makes me feel good and bad enough
and i wouldn't want it any other way
she kills me but i want to stay
-aprilxcv

I've stood where you stand
Heart in my hand
Begging to be loved
But it's never enough

You can't create matter from nothingness
You can't make yourself matter in an empty heart

I try to think what I would want
I try to remember what I wanted
All I can come up with is what I didn't want

I didn't want to lose my best friend

i thought we had something more
i thought when you text me late at night it meant i wasn't just a friend anymore
i thought maybe id get the chance
to take you on a date
hold your hand
tell you that your cute every chance that i get
but when i told you how i felt you didn't say what i expected
you said in  your eyes we were just friends
even though i swear you gave me signals that meant "take the chance"
i covered my emotions for months cause of my ex
but when i thought i was ready, we were ready
i put my heart in my hands
put it out for you to carry
and when i thought you were holding it
you dropped it on the ground and left

Driving under these neon lights,
The wide open interstate makes for a lonely night.
Music drowning my perpetuating thoughts,
Blaring Hootie & The Blowfish, "Let Her Cry",
"I could not believe, she was the same girl I fell in love with long ago. She went in the back to get high..."
Which reminds me of the very first time I hung out with you,
That was your favorite line of the song,
I couldn't help but laugh because you sang it oh so wrong.
Thinking back on what we used to be,
I never wished you would've went overseas.
I can remember the knock on my door,
Looking so pale and cold,
Never forgetting the picture of your corps.
Yearning for what we would've been,
Letting you go away is one of my seven deadly sins.

dad left
for his second tour of duty
on my third birthday

mom kept
a jar full of jelly beans
on the living room coffee table

every night
she gave me one to eat, saying
"when these jelly beans
are all eaten up,
dad will come back home"

sometimes
i would sneak another,
to help dad come home sooner

one night
the phone rang
and i watched mom
wipe away a tear
as she filled
the jar
back
up

I feel a shiver run through me
As her fingers touch my neck
And she bites my lip
While she tells me she loves me

I could sprout wings and fly
Every time she speaks my name
Her enticing words rolling off her tongue
And composing a symphony in my ears

When she walks,
I'm fascinated with how she sways her hips
And how she turns back to look at me and licks her lips
And my heart starts beating in anticipation

Her skin is soft,
Like I'm running my rough hands across flower petals
And when I kiss her neck,
I hear her breathe in gold and exhale diamonds
While she pulls my hair
Just the way I like it

There's no place I'd rather be

Why don't people write poetry
when they are happy?
Because you don't need to digest happiness,
you just let it wash over you.

What would happen if, instead,
we digested
happiness through words
and poured struggle and sorrow
onto our heads
so it dripped down our chins
and leaked in our minds
and slid down our shoulders
and backs
and legs
and made a puddle of tears at our feet?

Our books would be filled with joy
that generations could read
for years to come.
And they wouldn't think us a boring lot,
but find smiles
in our words,
and fondness
in our memories.
So the ground would be covered sadness...
it would water the plants,
and strengthen our souls,
and nourish our minds,
and that wouldn't be so bad
would it?

Because when it's all said and done...
you can step out of a puddle.
But if a pen is a sword
and the words are it's ink
I'd much prefer those words
to be loved.