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Jenny Ochoa Mar 2020
I'm not ready, I'm not prepared, the thought of little pitter patters makes me scared..... The thought of labor, the thought of pain, makes me want to run the other way!
Am I expecting, or am I not, not knowing for certain has my stomach in knots..... what if I am, what if I'm not, having someone call me momma is one crazy thought!
I am a little late && im a little shook!
Sophia Feb 2019
As I walk past your favorite coffee shop,
I look and see if you’re there.
Hoping that our eyes would meet again...
Armani Dec 2017
I found you,
at least I think I have.
I mean, I'm staring at this blank page writing another poem,
so that's probably not a good sign.
but you look like her, perfect.
and I'm not lying to butter you up or some ****, but they say beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
and you're the garden of my eye, more than just the apple of Eden.

It's amazing that you've saved me twice and probably didn't even know.
I really only feel safe around you but I could never tell you that.
I guess you already know I like you, but I don't know if you can feel the love,
or even the genuine care I have for you. Saddest thing is I don't know how you feel about me.
If I'm a ******
A freak
A psychopath
A demon
A pessimist
A school shooter
A bully
A manipulator
A needy little ****
or perfect.
My ******* told you I didn't want to know, which was obviously a lie.
It's not that I don't want to know I just don't know if I can take it or not.

I just refuse to let my condition affect anyone more than it already has.
I mean for ****'s sake I genuinely make Ashley and Sam cry when I try to **** myself
and you expect me to just let you in, knowing you might be as broken as I am?
You mightn't show it but I know it; and that's the kinda **** I think is crazy.
That you don't have to say a word and somehow I just know.
At least I guess I do, we both know I'm ****** in the head.

But if you're curious, I'd never let you hear these poems.
I hate showing my emotions and these poems are my deepest, most damaged thoughts.
They say talking helps but all I've done is brought pain to the people I care about so sorry if I'm reluctant to hurt you.
To let you hear these would be to let you into my soul and I think that's way too deep and maddening for a first date.
At the same time I feel like you need to hear these, I guess to help you get perspective,
aside from the fact I'm scared of losing you to someone else.
But **** my feelings I've always been afraid and I can't bully you into making you into think that you have to feel the same way.
Even though you do have to feel the same, I feel like one more crack and I'll be all the way broken and trust me,
when that happens it's game over.
See? there I go again subconsciously trying to manipulate people. This is why you can never read these.
The parts of me that NO-ONE else knows about are just here on full display.
It feels like if people knew who I really was they'd treat me like a monster,
but I guess they're way ahead of me.
I can't help the way I feel but I can help who knows and for now I guess you'll have to guess at my motivations.
Cuz guess what? I don't trust myself not to push you away with my impatience.

And that's why you can never read these. There is just WAY too much of, well, me.
Kinda weird how I think the one person who's my anchor could never know what's above the surface.
And why is my depth overhead instead of undersea? well cuz I've said it before, I'm ****** in the head.
And in this world that I think you think is real, where surrealism has blended what we think and what we feel
you can look up and not see the stars, but that you've been keeping me grounded.
Which is why I guess you should read these, so you can know how crazy I am as a forewarning
or just to let you know I see what you see too if this is really what you see.

I guess I always make conflict in my head because of that demon half of mine.
Trust me I could know for a fact that you love me and still look for my problems
because at the core of the problem I have a problem with myself, all 3 of me.
The demon, the hippie and the drifter.
The demon hates everyone and everything including itself
The hippie loves but only accounts for about a quarter of my mental health
and the drifter is my actual brain, just going with whatever.
And I guess since the demon is twice as strong as the hippie that's why I hate myself. I rationalize it like this because it's the only way any of this makes sense to me.
guess that's what everyone else is talking about. Saying I need to love myself,
but just look at this poem for evidence. I really do hate myself;
to the point where I'd find it inconceivable for someone else to love me.
But Kaymark does, at least that's what he says,
I know hundreds of times he's had second thoughts about being my friend

I guess this is just what I see through my eyes.
Saddest part is I wasn't even sad writing this.
These are really the everyday thoughts that go through my head
and if you made it this far I think you can handle how I feel about you.
I love you.
This is the sixth poem in this collection, one of my favorites; certainly the longest. I just wish you (whoever you are) will read this. I kinda hate this poem because I attached this concept of you to the first person who showed that they genuinely cared. Whether or not that's a show of my desperation for Salem or just how abstract you are is up for debate in my head.
Delta Swingline Nov 2017
I would've stayed up into the midnight hours for a conversation I cannot wish to have.

It is a forbidden thing to ask for conversations I am not allowed to even grasp.

I have seemed to love and lost but not lived.

Have I not suffered enough?

I am not even close to Shakespearean in voice or writing but I stand anyway.

When asked what time to you favour most, do I dare answer honestly?

I would've answered sometime in the midnight hours all those years ago.

And now, I would give anything for a night's rest for a fort night straight.

And yet, nothing comes of these times going by and by.

I do not dare say I love the night.

But rather say I wish for the sun.

I wish for the sun.

I wish for the sun.

I wish for the sun...
I am not the poet you believe me to be.
Maybe one day when the days are fine,
Maybe some years after nine.
Maybe then we come across each other or maybe we won't.
Maybe we ignore or maybe we won't,
Maybe we smile or maybe we won't.
Maybe we crave for that one hug or maybe we won't.
Maybe then you notice the love in my eyes or maybe you won't,
Maybe you can hear the poem my eyes recite or maybe you won't.
Maybe you still pull my cheeks or maybe you won't.
Maybe you still laugh on my jokes or maybe you won't.
Maybe we exchange contacts or maybe we won't.
Maybe then you leave saying goodbye once again or maybe you won't.
Maybe you call me later or maybe you won't
Maybe i say hello and you reply or maybe you won't.
Maybe we start once again or maybe we won't.
Maybe we fall in love once again or maybe we won't.
Maybe you too wish the same to happen or maybe you won't.
Maybe you too miss me or maybe you won't.
Maybe you too write the same or maybe you won't.
Amira I Oct 2015
"Maybe we’ll come together later in life, when I’m more world-traveled and you’re done turning a blind eye and keeping people at bay.

Maybe I’ll still love you with the same fierceness I did before, when you weren't ready to think of me because you were too hung up on everything else. Maybe I won’t love you at all but, somehow, we’ll still come crashing together with the force of a wild storm; the kind that ruins buildings and destroys streets.

Maybe we’ll fit together the way we were supposed to, when we were young and foolish and I fell in love too soon.

Then again, maybe we won’t fit together at all. Maybe we’ll collide together and explode into pieces, where nothing can be picked up and pieced back together because too much time has passed and I stopped waiting for you.

Maybe you’ll love me the way I loved you, the way you should have loved me when I wanted to give you everything; the world, myself, my heart, my soul. Maybe you’ll run into me one day, when time has passed and our friendship weakened, and you’ll get that lurch in your stomach. The one pulls you forward, makes your heart race, and your cheeks flush.

Maybe it will stop you in your tracks and you’ll see me the way I used to see you, with breath-taking awe that consumes every inch of you. And you’ll think of all the things you want to say to me or how you want to approach me, but you’ll wait too long and the moment will pass and I’ll be gone.

And you’ll think of me for days before you see me again. Maybe you’ll make your way towards me, walk purposely across the store with your thoughts in order and then you’ll stop because you’ll see me with someone else. Maybe I’ll smile at them in that sheepish way I used to around you, with my chin tilted down and my eyes peeking up through my lashes, and your stomach will drop. Maybe they’ll make me laugh and I’ll look up at them with all the adoration I used to give you and panic will sweep through you.

Maybe they’ll kiss my forehead like you would, but then they’ll take my hand like you were always afraid to and we’ll walk away and leave you standing there with all these things you wanted to say unsaid. And, maybe you’ll understand what it was like for me; to be enamored with you, to be awestruck by the beauty that was you and to have all these things to say get left unsaid.

And maybe you’ll regret never giving me a chance because you couldn't figure it out. Or because you were too caught up in thoughts of other girls or other things. Or you were too scared of losing me, but you lost me anyway.

But then again, maybe I’ll still want you then like I want you now and you’ll see me one day and say all the things you should have said when we were young. And maybe the timing will be right and there won’t be other people around mucking things up. And maybe you’ll love me the way I love you.
Because I’d really like that, I think, for us to come together like a hurricane; where things are wild and chaotic but in the thick of it all is a calm serenity that defines us. Where we compliment each other in all the right ways and smooth out each other’s rough edges. Where we have the relationship we should’ve had but didn’t because you’re complicated and I’m complex. Because I know what I want and you’re still figuring it out.

But then again, maybe we won’t come together at all and there will just be a bunch of unspoken words between us curling in our throats and dying in our mouths. Maybe our moment passed and I’m starting to accept that.

Then again, I can’t help but hope our moment’s just around the corner when I’m more world-traveled and you’re done searching for yourself."
Not mine, I saw it on someone's tumblr.

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