I almost let it slip
How I am a poet who writes intensely
Passionate and all at once
I'm not used to having a muse
Or the possibility of writing for someone
Writing my feelings about someone's love for me
It scares me to no end how easily the words flow when I think of you
I'm tempted to not write about you
Only because of the past
How they all fell in love with the words that dripped down from my mouth
Endlessly then all at once almost like a rose blossoming
I wrote for so many people
Only to have them turn right around and hurt me deeply
Making me delete the poems and poetry
I guess I'm terrified of that happening with us
I don't want it to
I love writing about you but I also realize that
I'm not about to make someone a home to come home to
If that makes sense
I've done that with numerous people only to be
the one who's left in the dark
Because what people don't tell you is
when you try and make a house out of a person
It can start off as loving, beautiful, thriving
But over time the idea and how the person
might view you will change over time
No one announces these things of course
But unfortunately when a person decides to
throw in the towel without a reason or stop loving you
It comes as a shock and then the idea of having that one person who you consider to be your house so to speak
One to come home to when things get too much or a person who you love so intensely it even catches you off guard
It all fades away
After they stop loving you
Reasons why I'm scared to love you so intensely and the way I'm trying to force myself
to love someone like I did before with the gestures
But it'll take a little while for me to even consider showering you with crafts
Only because if it mysteriously crumbles
I don't wanna have to look at damage control
I'm sorry baby you'll have to prove that
you'll stay first and won't abandon me
Like the others, before you did

When we’re young, all we can think about is growing older.

I remember when I was 11 years old, I could hear myself saying how all I wished was to be 16 years old. (Funny, I know, but when I was 11, the cool age was 16!). And now that the time has gone and passed, it feels eerie thinking about how young I once was and how you never really see how much you change over time.

I look at myself now, 20 years old, and haven’t come to terms with how I don’t want my life to pass by too quickly. Everyone says that high school goes by before you know it; for me it did. Even as I go through the motions of college, it’s flying by me.

Each day on the calendar is another mark I check off as passed.

Everyone is always looking forward to something; like a work party next Friday or even dinner on Sunday, but no one ever really stops to live in the moment.

We as people, are always looking forward and reminiscing the past, but never live in the present. And funnily enough, as each day passes, you can’t tell you’ve grown or aged.

As each birthday passes, do you actually feel any older?

Until one day you wake up in the house you own with your significant other, possibly with kids, going to the same job for 15+ years, what happened to your life?

Did you feel yourself getting older? I know this is out of the blue, but it’s scary to think how quickly life passes you by, until one day it’s over.

That’s why we should always remember the good times in the past, but not stay in them; we should always think about the future and strive for better things…but we should always remember where we are. Right here and right now.

Live for today, before you run out of tomorrows.

Depression has me by the neck
its poison numbs my entire body
trapping me in an ever-state of paralysis
I lay motionless as I'm forced to endure
this deep pain swelling inside of me

So many times I've listened to others
and their experiences with this darkness
Not knowing one day it would grow in me as well
Life made this happen
and maybe death is the cure

The more I resist or try to hide it
the more it festers and increases its intensity
So maybe I should just give in
and float in my own pool of sadness
until the dawn rises

My mind wonders when I should be actually dreaming.

I imagine a dragon coming down, setting fire to the town.
How far away is the nearest star?

I then lay thinking about the day and all that it held in its hands, and suddenly I start wondering about you.

I wonder what your wearing, and if your smiling, or even if your thinking about.
What do you think about me? Am I doing everything I can to capture your attention? Am I bringing your most sacred dreams to life?  

Do you really love me?
I close my eyes.

There's a difference in knowing who you are,
And why you are.
Because the past can't be changed.

They say insomnia is a writer's best friend
When 2 am thoughts become conversations with the moon, as she reveals her secrets from within
And you cry or insanely laugh while hoping not to break your pen
It's at night, peak hours of the morning, when those twisted emotions decide that they've had enough and break free from that daytime zen
The happy face slides off and the pain comes crashing in
3 am thoughts race as you hope your brain will shut off or the sun wins
Either way, when the next night hits, you'll be laying in bed with your notebook and pen watching the clock all over again.

My mind is like a snowflake
it started out innocent
so pure and remarkably fragile to the touch
but sure enough, this snowflake finally touched the ground
normally a snowflake would melt
but this was no ground, this was a cliff
so icy and brutally cold, nearly unbearable
the once snowflake, turned to solid ice
overtime all the built up pressure on top of the now ice
has finally been triggered
whether it was too much pressure of the new snow, the rain, or perhaps even some slight wind
an avalanche is now cascading down the mountainside
the snow is constantly rolling down the steep *****
nothing can stop this downward spiral until it hits the bottom
then it finally hit
oh so loud it was too