if you want me, look for me under your bootsoles
do you realize that when dead we are all the same?
dirt under a sole or maybe the dirt that lets a tree grow

"My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations."
See I have that exact problem
except my thoughts are more like hail
and hail can't form constellations

the world is a changed place,
what we became familiar with is gone,
we must either change with the world
or be pushed aside by it...
I have chosen to embrace the coming world
and trying to learn the "new way"

“I’ve put out a lot of little roots these two years,” Anne told the moon, “and when I’m pulled up they’re going to hurt a great deal."

Am i going to miss those roots as much as I think i am?

1.why isn't there a word in between love and like? one is too small and the other too big.
2.what do i call an almost love? a love where we would've ended up together if we had more time.
3.do i like you or the you in my head?
4.why must my best ideas come too late when if i turned on the light to write or hit the space bar on my laptop i will let others know of my unquietable mind?

u will never remember all the words you said to me
but i will always remember how they made me feel

It is so very cold outside
Freezing my core, even my pride
When I try to walk
My legs are rigid cornstalks
And tears freeze to my cheek when I cry

I wonder
What it is like
To be still.

It must be lovely
Not always shifting in your skin
And mind as well.

Is it even possible
To have that in this time?
Who can tell?

I don't know
But I hope one day
I will - you know, be still...

Saturday nights.
Early 20s  
In the limbo of wanting to savor my youth, but growing tired of my lack of responsibility.