A world confined to only black and white
is wasted of all the diverse, flowing shades of gray in between---
the areas that aren't so easily or willingly acknowledged;
the variety of tangled truths and in between slips of moments that paint life on an individual level---
all hidden by an outer layer of generic black and white,
whatever the color people decide to assign me---
the way I live my life;
everything that encompasses it---
it will never do me justice in representing
the entity of the person of who I am.
In response to those who tell you things like:
"You can either be this, or that; there's no in between."
"You can either be happy or depressed; there's no in between."
"You can either be grateful or unfulfilled, always needing more; there's no in between."
"You can either be successful or a total failure, embarrassment, and a waste of time and investment; there's no in between."
"You can either live or die; there's no in between."
not crayon not water
but watered down
to drown that claw scratch
of its taste it is
sometimes a shocking
mark made here on the page
here here here here
just where my finger points
to whatever past
symbol we all agreed
on then when need
made need obey
sometimes a mark memory
asks for from its past
sometimes a real jewel
that fell to earth and
rang as a star and rings still
so get it back
it’s written down
it can’t be difficult
unless you’re blind
unless you’re dead
and even then it is
Here comes the friend who calls, to use me.
Here comes the friend who plans, to ditch me.
Here comes the friend who messages, to lie.
You don’t matter no more
For I no longer want be hurt any more.
So take your pain
that you wrap as presents,
Because I no longer want it no more.
Don’t you keep calling me babe any more
Don’t keep calling me your best friend any more
For it no longer means anything no more.
Because these words
are just labels that mean nothing anymore.
Nothing matters anymore
No one understand me no more
So leave me
Lie to me
It no longer matters to me anymore.
I trusted someone with all my heart.
But now it feels like we’re falling apart.
He threatens to tell my secrets to all,
but that's not why I’m sad, why I’m about to fall.
I’m being ripped to pieces but he doesn't care.
Labels me ‘different’ and lets me tear.
I can cry and I can scream,
I can wish and I can dream,
But there is no more trust,
Now only rust
And I will cry,
As the days pass by.
I found this, in my old things. It's about when my best friend and I got in a fight. He and I have made up, but I still think it's a sad poem.
I am enamored
With the idea
Of being in love
Not the kind of love
Where I say
I love you
And let you meet my family
Or maybe exactly that kind of love
A love like raindrops?
That, as fast as I run away from it
I cannot escape it
I want never ending night skies
But I’m obsessed with sunshine
Especially when it’s raining
Am I my own paradox of eternal delights?
If I am, I think I’m doing a good job of
Whatever this is, for once
I really really like holding on to the past
At this point, my wall is choking
On movie tickets and pictures
But I keep thumbtacks
By my bed anyway
Just in case I need to remember something new
That I didn’t forget in the short walk
From desk to window
It’s not being sentimental, I think
It’s being “sometimes I forget who I am so how do I know I won’t forget how happy feels or how my best friends laugh like sunshine?”
But let’s call it sentimental because
I have a real love-hate relationship with labels
I am the least organized person I know
But I’m constantly labeling people
It’s touch and go, this metaphorical game of tag
Friend, lover, enemy, acquaintance
These labels aren’t permanent
The fingerprints on my skin wash off like chalk in a rainstorm
And let me tell you
I am enamoured with rainstorms
Because when I don’t have an umbrella
They seem to feel a hell of a lot like love
Label me with love,
Bind and blind me with your love.
Unstable with your love,
I fall under your love.
Tell me who I am,
And I'll hold onto my secret.
You're a man in woman's land --
You'll never keep me, but I'll keep it.
She sets the stars in evening light,
Plucks and places firelight.
Fingers gentle, sure and strong,
Lips tell secrets to my palm.
Her kiss lingers, rubbing pink;
I close my fist and keep it for me.
This is love and this is joy --
She's my man, and I'm her boy.
Pray for peace to a god unknown . . .
At the very least, I've found my one.
It is that
Dangerous in large doses.
Could be toxic if too much.
they glued labels
on my body
that won't come off
without removing pieces of myself
and it hurts
almost as much
as watching them
bend and twist
and break your
to fit you inside
a box your heart
whenever i write
i have to write the title last.
i am never sure where
my story is going to go
and i don't want a title
holding me back from writing
whatever i want.
i guess sometimes
people don't realize just how
limiting a title can be.
When I look into the mirror, I expect to see a girl staring back at me who I know is nothing but me.
But when I look into the mirror and see myself all I see are labels.
A whirlwind of insults that takes the place of my reflection, and throws its words at me whenever it sees me.
I know what I should do when I see it.
I know I should just rip them off and show the it I am above the petty labels that it chooses to define me as...
I look into the mirror and sink to the ground; balling like a child because I know the labels are true.
I know that everything it tells me is true.
I know because...
That thing is me.
People say things about me when they think I’m not listening.
Friends make a joke without realizing they’ve crossed a line.
I look at myself and know this is how everyone sees.
I don’t embrace these labels.
I don’t let myself stand beside them and act proud and confident.
I sit in the storm and watch as it grows larger and larger with every second a conversation continues.
I’m a coward.
I don’t let people know I hate this.
Don’t let them know I despise the labels everyone sees I have.
I want to tell them I want to change.
I don’t want these words anymore.
I’ve been in pain for far too long, and I don’t won’t to complete another dictionary because I’m too afraid to speak up.
But I never do.
I continue to look at myself in the mirror.
Continue to be a person I don’t want to be.
I **** at poetry, but what are you gonna do when a random wave of emotions hit you like a bus?