This is not a poem, this is a life.
I have fallen in love, and I know you've fallen in love (at least I hope you've fallen in love). But, our love was antithetic, it was electric, it was eccentric, it was modern. It was like moonbeams, it was like the pavement after rain. Our love was timeless, but most importantly, it was faceless. It was without impression, it was without imperfection.
I just wanted to remind you, that this is not a poem, this is a life.
I met you, and you met me, but it wasn't face to face. We never walked down the hallways of our high schools and brushed the backs of our hands together. Never would I be able to compare the glint in your eyes to the way the sun shined in our favorite spot last Wednesday at 4:32p.m. We never sat on your back porch, or leaned precariously over my balcony, and nervously leaned into one another. Never will you understand the trembling of my knees when I first heard your voice (this is all becoming very poetic), and never will I know the unabashed heat of your skin; or the cold of your dangerous glare. I'll never meet your mother, and you'll never meet my father (but that's okay, because we wouldn't want that anyways), they are our secrets locked away in a box underneath our separate and never merging beds. I crave nothing more than a love that cracks open my ribs and sends a  hurricane barreling through my heart. Few have tried, yet none (only you) have succeeded. The failed have only summoned a cold winter within these bones, but you struck up a blistering summer and an incomprehensible spring, where my eyes viewed nothing but random march showers.
Sorry, I forgot that you were not a poem, and this is our life.
Only upon assessing the damage your vessel created with your departure did I realize that this is not a poem, this is a life.

(a.m.) 03/12/14

i used to cradle her bleach-cracked hands in mine
and decode the stardust resting within her fingerprints
     up until the day that i lost touch with the art of reading braille
     and she stopped slinging tall-tales for me to fetch
and rest the plot-twist at her feet

often in the post-script
i'd find my train of thought highjacked by the sunlight illuminating the rainbow of earth-tones ablaze
in her frizz-ridden curls
as if she'd been washing her hair with the damaged case of beer
she'd gotten for half-price at liqour depot
     she never did quit drinking
          but neither did i

at least we tried

though sometimes
in the middle of the night when nothing was alright
and we'd barely survived another fight
her face would catch my glance
cast aglow by a flood of lava-lamp light
    
     the sea of freckles resting at the crest of her cheeks
     rose lips perma-pursed in half tilt
     her resting heart-rate so high that i could almost see it
          pirouetting within her chest

it was then that i'd love her best
     amidst the ruins of who we were
     just moments before

She was the quiet girl
in the back of the classroom.
The girl who never paid much attention
because she was too absorbed into
doodling on the notes.
Despite her lack of attention,
she was the girl that made straight A's.

She was the one
with the secret.
Everyday after the last bell rang
she walked away from the school
toward a broken home. The second
her foot hit the door step
she began to run into the back bedroom.
She hid up there,
kept away
from the poisonous gas
used to wilt
away the flowers in her heart.

She was the girl that kept it all inside
until there was no more room
to store her secrets.
The safe doors blew open,
destroying the locks.
The girl that broke down
in the hallway in between
lunch and study hall.

She was the girl
with the purple hair and
bright green eyes.

he doesn't like me for me.

he doesn't like me for my poetry.
he doesn't like me for my thoughts.
he doesn't like me for how i look.
he doesn't like me for how i act.
he doesn't like me for how i am.

he looks at me and sees not a person.

he looks at me and sees not a girl.
he looks at me and sees not a poet.
he looks at me and sees not a smart girl.

he sees a wasteland.

he sees a girl without love.
he sees broken skin and flaws.

he loves ruins.
he loves fixing people.

you can't fix everyone.
you can't fix a heart that has so many bandages on it that you can't tell what's latex and what's muscle.
you can't fix me unless i break even more.

do you want me to break more?
you love seeing me break.
that's kind of sad.
pathetic.
you love when i hate myself.
and i hate myself so you won't go away.

Just who am I as a person
well let's see
I'm random and awkward
and more than slightly crazy
I have messy hair
and I'm kind of sarcastic
I don't know if life is real
or if I am fantastic
I'm a massive ******
believe me I'm not joking
the dark still scares me
and I'm little bit heartbroken
I can be rude
because I'm hardly polite
things like birds and moths they scare me
but only when they take flight
I have a strange sense of humor
and I love the idea of magic
but I know it can't exist in this world
which I guess is kind of tragic
I write about
what I care about
so why am I writing about myself
I'll let you know when I figure it out
unless I forget...

If you're hearts broken
i'd love to say I could fix it
but I'm hopeless
and I just can't help you
because you're afraid to tell yourself
that you love you
because you might not love you back the same
if you see yourself as beautiful
than you will think you're beautiful as well
and if you believe that you've got a great mind
then you'll never hate being around you
and you keep those feelings hidden
then you will never know
just how
you feel about you
telling you is not up to me
nor he or she or anyone other than you
so don't be sad or you won't be glad
because the one that you love will be crying because of you
but when you smile at them
they can't help but smile back
because you love you
you just have to let you know...

When asked what is sadness
there are a number of answers
perhaps sadness is
what we feel when we're alone
but not completely at ease
perhaps sadness is
happinesses broken younger sister
perhaps sadness is
the thing some people crave for
more than anything else
perhaps sadness is
loving someone who doesn't love you back
perhaps sadness is
what comes when we lose love
or have never found it
perhaps sadness is
the only one that feels our pains
perhaps sadness is
a reminder that we're human
well most of the time anyway
or perhaps sadness is
just another emotion that follows confusion
sadness is an emotion we feel
when our minds just don't want to believe what's just happened
or we just don't understand...