the old people
advised
the young people
to never
trust someone who lies
or who talks badly
about someone
that they love
or barely know
but the young people
never listened
and now
they don't trust
anyone

You can't save me
With you smoke veiled eyes
Filled with honesty and deceit
Your words
Falling like the ocean
Deafens me
With their beauty
In silence
And it's not enough
Those lines
About me
In the tattered notebook
My initials
On your skin
Tattooed
And scarred
Like the rain in the sky
With echoes
Like thunder
Following the sobs
You hide behind your calloused hands
Can't you ever
Show me the lightening
Because that's the only thing
I need to see

And the thunder
From me
Is all you need to hear
But my lightening
Is what you get to see
And you think it's everything
But how can everything
Last only a second?

do you know the rain
he asks
it's never alone
he says

almost like you

but it's not
and i am not

i am
a raindrop
shattering
between other raindrops

we become a translucent
blur
(we are not blue)

you are mistaken
i whisper
and a raindrop
slips down
along the curve of his neck

sunlight staining
the windowpanes
casting cool gold
through the shutters
your hands
slipping across
my rib cage
i wish
they were warm

"We are plagued
More by presence
Than absence"
He says
Under the cold moon
His hand
Wrapped around my heart
"And sometimes
The plague
And the cure
Are the same"

It's a lie
Because I lie awake
Counting the cracks
In my ceiling
(The ones
The paint couldn't fill)
And the shadows
They make
Chases my soul
And pins it
Against the wall

You are absent
And I have
A greater fever
Than ever before

you have left
a crime scene
inside of my head

stain the glance
from my eyes
with gray
and give me a kiss
whenever i say
saving me
with a tragedy
that makes me so happy

steal my heart
with your brown eyes
angel
the way we so carelessly
throw away
the dreams we could be having
asleep
(i prefer your words
anyway)

won't you
please
become my anchor
and pull me close to you
whenever we need to
float away

x

there are two paths
to take

when society
begins to destroy itself

I. stay and make it slightly better

or

II. run away.

to be a writer
smother your
racing thoughts
until they break through
their breath
unable to be extinguished
by your doubting fear

to be a writer
is to stay awake
until the sun starts
breaking apart the darkness
at the edge
of the earth's seam
with an full page
of words
tangled
that you won't be able to read
when you wake up
at noon

to be a writer
is to think
not only for yourself
but for every character
locked in your soul
trying to reach out
for their thoughts
and words
to stretch across
the lined
expanse

to be a writer
is to think
for everyone else
you know
and form thought bubbles
and back stories
for the strangers
you meet on the street

to be a writer
is to see the beautiful
in the ugly
whispering
and the ugly
in the beautiful
screaming

to be a writer
is to become hypnotized
by the parts
of the people
we smile at
their eyes
the way their fingertips
trace the rim
of their coffee cup

to be a writer
is to dream
and remember
to dream
and forget
everything
we meant to say

to be a writer
is to read
a billion words
of a million
others
to memorize
the curve
of the pen in a sentence
the neat font
in a book
holding
so much emptiness
that it fills you

to be a writer
is to choose to drown
in doubt
because all the stories
you read
and right-
even if they aren't
real life-
aren't always nice

to be a writer
is to love words
and to hate them
love him
or her
and to hate
him
or her
found in seperate others
a cycle
of their ghosts
haunting us
like the time
slipping away
too fast

to be a writer
is to choose drowning
over living
just to see
the sunlight
flickering through the waves
and feel how the shadows
it's absence feels across your skin

to be a writer
is to always begin
but sometimes
leave the end

What if the Moon was a Triangle
The Sun was a Heart
The Stars were Circles
The Earth was an Oval
And We were all Rectangles
Unable to figure out
How to hold Each Other
Without becoming Squares

I don't believe you
Because the lines
You say
Sound too much
Like poetry

The apology
You wrote
And pressed into my palm
Staining my fingers
With black ink
Tasted
Too much
Like vanilla
And Lies

Maybe
Everything you say
Is the truth
But maybe
It's all a lie
And I will never know
And you will never know
Because I do
Exactly the same
When I say
'I do too'

Only realizing later
After you scream
That you miss me
That I never missed you
Too

I usually write
To breathe
But I can’t
Anymore

Do I need a muse
A man
Who makes me
Swoon
With heady phrases
And kisses
Imprinted
Against my wrist
Or a brilliant
Thunderstorm
That sweeps against me
Like a monsoon
Or a flower
Whose petals
Are breaking
Apart
And blowing in the wind
Or a sadness
Devastating
Like winter

Words
I miss you

there's a girl
who holds
the universe
in her eyes
(they aren't tired
yet)

she loves the rain
and the sound
of voices
and his eyes
and his eyes
and his eyes
and the feeling
she got
after her second
kiss

she dresses
in white
her cheeks
stained
with innocence
held high
(her tears
fall like rivers
whenever
she cries)

she
drowns in words
faded
pieces
of a thousand forests
a billion minds
and minutes
held
crumbling
and falling
through her lap
and scrawls
empty words
(the ones
she hears)
between gaps
in the pages

she
sows
an entirety
and gives them names
of all the famous writers
(she sometimes
regrets
reading them)
and caresses them
with her lips
and the words
that slip through
(they really
become
more beautiful
in the sunlight)

she
won't say the words
that need not
be said
tainting feelings
and moments
with a means of escape
(and she will hold her palm
over her ears
just to save herself
from hearing them
fall like feathers
from your lips)

she will
fall in love
with strangers
until she knows
them
(and then she will wonder
if her imagination
was actually real)

she will
write
until the moths
tire
fluttering
against a lit screen
and the butterflies
fall apart
across
a bare neck
like stars
falling into the sea

she loves
the sky
and the sea
and can't decide
on separate
entities
(confusion
mounts
and weighs her down
until she flies
away
into the drizzle
on the corners
a gentle breeze)

What I am about to say
Will save you
From a great sadness

1. Don't ever caress your broken heart in your hands
The blood will stain your finger tips scarlet
And be imprinted on the next person you hold.

2. Don't succumb
To the comforting grey side
Of Sadness
I know its warm. I know its safe.
But its only all those things
Because darling,
It will never leave.

3. Don't keep things hidden.
Who are you?
How can you even think of not being the main character of your story?

4. Don't read books about girls being left behind, and about boys dying
Or about people who are too afraid
Or too courageous
Or whose main characters are liars
Who come alive when you look into
Their eyes.

5. Don't let your heart pull away from him
Because you feel like
"You love him too much"
He won't understand why
You are holding his heart
And your own.

6. Don't start writing when you are sad.
The ink won't be able to run from your fingers when you are happy
And you will be left without the words you have
Become addicted to-

You will hold your heart in your hands
And you will pick at its stitches to feel
And your heart will bleed
And it will stain your fingertips red.

You will reach out to him,
And your will leave scarlet smears across his cheek
And his chest
And his wrist
And no matter how many times
You kiss
The stain will stay

And you will
Wrap yourself in the soft grey
And the Sadness will swear
To always stay
And you will feel loved
Because it will never leave.

And you will start to hide it-
The warm grey
The phone call
An opinion
The fight you had
The tears and words
That want to come out


And you will turn to books
Not to escape
But to learn
About other
I's and hers and hims
And their words will come out
Black and white
The next time
He whispers
'I love you' in your ear.

And then you will start to pull away
Because
god
You love him too much
And that means he is going to leave
And he will look at you and see
That you have his heart
And your heart
But it will be too late for him to
Have kept yours
And it will be too late for you to keep his.

And suddenly
It will be Saturday night
And he will still be yours
But it will feel like he's
Gone
And you will pull the thread

Of soft grey.

and it was universal
the way we fell in love with feelings
and dark eyes

capturing
freeing

it was never supposed to be easy
but sometimes
when you smile against my lips
or trace my ribs
and i feel
your laugh
against the palm of my hand

it's the easiest thing
in the world

your lips
used to write poetry
against my skin

but now
i can't feel your breath
on the curve of my neck
and i have nothing
to read

i do not read
to lock myself
away
or to hide
nestled between
printed pages

a book is not an escape

because i don't read
to forget
why my heart is shattered
or to chase away
the eyes
that haunt me
at night

a book is not an escape

i do not read to be transported
from this world
to another
leaving it all
behind

a book is not an escape

i do not read
with the intention to laugh
or to cry
or to fall in love
with the ideals of a lie

a book is not an escape

i do not read
for the wings words give me
or the ability to breathe
under waves

a book is not an escape

i do not read
to be able to feel
or to get wiser
(a contradiction)
or to be free
or captured
in the bars
created
by adjectives

a book is not an escape

i only read to be me

Insomnia
is only a dream

Darkness
Illuminated
Time moves
So slowly

The mouse no longer
Runs up the clock
The mouse no longer leaps

Gazing across an expanse of white
(it's not the ceiling, my darling
it's the antarctic
upside down)

Breathing in time
with the wind

Why are your eyes hurting
If they are closed?

how can something
as delicate as lace
be so rough
in his hands?

Your words don't stop running
Across the infinite sky

They fill me with doubt
And certainty
Echoing your smile

Your eyes
Are a reflection of the stars
Looking away when the sky
Is empty of the moon

Won't you have me
Shattered
At your feet
Hypnotized by your voice
And your silence

I hear your heart beat
Sometimes
When I'm awake at night
And you are still asleep

Silent
Like a thunderstorm