How could I be so naïve
As to fail to realise
It's you I love
It always has been.

But could my best friend
Ever become my boy friend?
Somehow i think not
It's highly unlikely.

If I told you
That I loved you
Could you ever love me back
Or would our friendship go off track?

I know that it is highly likely that
As a young thing
I have yet to know love.
But part of me is terrified
That if I have no comparisons yet
That I might
Just might
Have love. Right now...
And not even know it?
What if I miss it?
I won't ever get it back.
I know that it is highly likely
That I don't know what I'm saying
Let alone what I am feeling.
But...
What if...
I love you?

last summer
I met a boy of 6 feet tall
he is two years older than me
he listens to punk rock
has an alcoholic father,
and his kisses
are sweeter than honey
and softer than silk

we spent countless, long, dreamy
cold, rainy, humid
nights
in my backyard
with the smell of too much hairspray
which I can not bring myself to smell again
and mosquito spray which I never apply anymore
11pm
4am
the hours passed by like minutes, seconds

under the stars
telling secrets
I was scared
scared of losing him
even though he was already lost

fading
disapearing
slowly and then all at once

hallways
silence
stares
me alone
him and her

11pm
4am
hours seem like eternitys, milleniums
crying
flashbacks
thinking about the us that will never be
blood spills on the paper
spelling out your words, promises
do I even cross his mind
maybe  probably not  no

I'm sorry I wasn't
skinny
pretty
funny
admirable
good
enough

I'm sorry

we didn't even say goodbye

goodbye, Brandan

Your eyes reminded me of snow; cold and impatient. There was a blizzard in your soul waiting to explode.

You were so young... I remember it like yesterday. You held my hand and we laughed about the weather and the clouds above us. You were so naive.

Your lips tasted like mint. They were always there for me when I was down or needed comforting. Waiting to tell me things I needed to hear; a taste of something special for once.

You were so wild. Such a vagabond always looking for the next chapter to write about. Sparks always flew from your heart with passion I could never understand. You were so free.

If this would help me make sense of this disaster that happened I would write forever. I don't know why it had to end this way. I don't know where the adventure went the day you died.

But my heart is like your snowy eyes; cold and distant.
And my lips are chapped and taste like blood from biting my tongue; holding down the tears I've built up in a matter of hours.
And my soul has aged... Wild and free was never for me.
You were so young...

I'm sorry for being a bad daughter
Especially since you were both my mother & my father.

I'm sorry for all the times I snuck out & came home late
Especially since I knew the sight of my empty bed would make you faint.

I'm sorry for all the times I made you cry
Especially since I knew how much you would try.

I'm sorry for saying all those words of hate
Especially since it is now far too late.

I'm sorry I realized late
That you were far too great.

(a.d)

14 and so naïve
I could have sworn
you were the one
made for me.

It was like happy was bursting upwards
and pushing on the inside of my cheeks--
a smile.
Not hardly forced

Cleaning up the mess of past years from the carpets
In my Hawaiian themed bedroom
half lime green, half baby blue
and all Haley.

I sent you a simple apology
for kicking your feelings
and hurting your heart

A part of me knew we weren't through
the day we had finished.
When your best friend kissed me
at the top of a closed in stairwell

I guess I'd missed that feeling
where your fingertips tingle
at the tiniest touch.

You wrote back
with open arms
even with that stomped up heart

You asked what my favorite day of summer had been
foolishly,
I'd responded “this one”

Back when we knew everything.
When parents taught us nothing
and schooling,
even less

I'd missed you
the brown eyes I'd been in love with,
more so--
infatuated with.

I didn't plan
just played games
that felt sincere.
Toyed with hearts
that felt like home.

I don't know how you did,
or why,
but I sent you an apology
and you replied.

I've become this
   plain Jane person
Melted into a crowd of
   lost souls
Drained from passions, dreams,
   & individuality
A subject of America
   land of the free
      Home of the NAIVE
to think this is "living"
   to waste 100 years
      never "living"
for objects, &
   replaceable trinkets
Not seeing the uncreated
   memories & unbiased truth
what it is to me was
   more than a nine to 5
but instead I am stagnant
   glazed into the layers
      upon layers of white
   coffee mugs & ceramic