I had a dream
once upon a time
I thought I'd be successful
(but obviously, I'm not good enough for that)
There was once a gleam
in my eyes, that I
would cherish
for years.
But now I
am not good enough,
I am just a rejection.
Just tears in a bathroom stall,
red eyes and broken hearted,
over something small.
Does it really matter?
Because I am a rejection
for every darling thing
that I've ever wanted

Its the flowers..
They remind me of colors with no name,
Words that will never be said,
Emotions that are buried inside of me,
And of times I've hesitated to take your hand,

Do you ever see people?
For how the react towards you.
Not for what they look like or walk.
But for their emotions buried deeper than any truth,

I wish I could just reach out.
And touch your heart like you do mind,
I wish I could know for sure,
How you see me inside that beautiful mind,

I want to see beyond the smile behind your "hello",
I want to feel beyond your soft voice of " I'm okay",
I want to not just touch your life and go,
I want to be here for moments unseen and times after today,

If I tell you of what's been eating my heart..
Would you embrace me?
Would you come and stay here?
Would you reach for the piece of my fragile heart?
Would you make this step with me and forever never part?

Would you love me?
Like I have done all this time?
Would you grant me what I wish?
And let you be mine?

I am not a poet.
I may write poems
but I am not a poet.
Poets speak pretty words.
I speak in a tongue no one knows,
not even me.
I am not a poet.
I am a girl,
with unspoken words
who gazes at trees.
I am a girl
with red hair and
watery eyes
but I,
I am not a poet.
I am not a poet.

Vagabond of the heart
Always wandering, searching for
Love. Bless the heart of the
Exuberant lover whom thought.
No love to find here, nomad, no love.
To where you go, oh vagabond?
In the years I've known you, you've
Never found love.
Even then, you're still searching, old and weary.

Part of me wants to believe
that I'm important,
more important than the dirt we walk on
Part of me says that
I'm the equivalent of the grass
that is shredded in the lawnmower
Which am I?
It depends
maybe on the day,
maybe on the person
but to me
I'm just the wind blowing
on a cold day
that freezes your nose
and numbs your heart
I'm the kind of person
that you don't want to be.
the kind of person
that cries over everything.
The kind of person
that wants to believe she's good
but doesn't feel like she is
Tries, tries, tries but isn't
Who am I?
Who are you?
I'm a whisper
in the night,
overlooked.

Where has my motivation gone?
It has grown wings
flap, flap, swoosh
There it is in the air
the black bird
falling to the ground
**dead

Why me?
Avoid sitting by me
avoid eye contact
look at me like I don't belong near you.
At a table with friends
ignored.
not as important
as
what they had to do that day
in English class.
But I'm not important.
Forgotten in conversation,
cut off while talking
forgotten, forgotten, forgotten
like vegetables on a child's plate
or a napkin in a pant's pocket.
This is me
forgotten
never to be remembered.
School forgets me
thought my name was Brittany
Puts smart or athletics on a pedestal
but if you're like me
you don't matter
Forgotten in the wind
not to be remembered
by a soul.