A song heard
A quote read
A picture seen
All that was
All that could've been

Unwanted, uninvited
Reminders of you
They plague my mind
Anytime, anywhere
**Every moment of every day

clear thumbtacks hold the
few blades of grass
collected from the meadows
of the Magnificent Days.
no baby blanket can wrap up
these times;
no perfume from the 80's
mask such greatness.
driving home at 8:56
in february feels like four-thirteen a.m.
while it's raining
(how strange)
we don't feel like talking,
we don't feel like junk food
but scratchy blankets to tuck
in the snow-less mountains
this time of year.
something has to cover them,
because our society doesn't approve
of ******
or happiness, really
for our smoke detectors
are dead and the mirrors are stained
the rugs are frayed
and our poetry *****.
our candles smell like grandmothers
but that future for us isn't so
far away.
we focus on the water that will burst
past the controlled walls
in a few months;
that's so close (too close) to tell
because we are told
we won't end up being what we thought
we'd wanted at sixteen.
our christmas lights are getting dull
and we don't strive to make people jealous
anymore.
we just sulk on the loss
of the Magnificent Days,
bright and kind.

Whenever I return to the wilted flowers of our friendship,
My lip curls in distaste at your abundant flaws, sharp tongue and emotionally unstable mentality--
Wondering why our eyes ever met; why our mouths and ears alternated, fully losing ourselves in the other

But I remember
How little I felt before I met you.
You were imperfect, and somehow, it triggered emotions I forgot existed, brought light during my darkest days, especially on those I'd rather wake with hands around my throat--
Or more in a more tactful manner, not wake at all

So thank you
For making every day of despair easier to bear
But I am a baby bird learning to fly
With my back turned, head bowed,
I bid you goodbye

Maybe one day
I'll tell you magical stories (the reality of my experiences)
Or maybe I won't

But without you, my world will keep turning
And so will yours

Dear Dad,
This is my first letter I've ever written out to you. I guess words run through my head everyday of all the things I wish I could scream at you. I don't know you. You don't know me. The last image I have of you is the time you set me up on the roof and told me about reality, I didn't know what you meant at the time and I still don't. I still dream about the overlook of where I was sitting and how your voice sounded when you talked passionately. Fast and sharp.
I heard your mom died, that's unfortunate. I shrugged when I heard the news because she was never really nice to me, she never talked to much at all for that matter. I remember your crazy sister also. She always had barbies and lollipops. I used to think they for me when I was younger but I know now that they weren't and she was just stuck in a childhood she never received.
It's really hard not having you around, or anyone around for that matter. Anyone who has tried to come in my life has only shown me what the strike of a hand feels and looks like compared to the fatherly image I have always wanted. I just decided to never let a man in because they all **** up. Girls do too I suppose. All relationships are ******. I like being alone anyway.
Mom talks about you sometimes and we constantly listen to your favorite songs. She misses you. I just personally hate you for picking such stupid things over me. Many people ******* do that and I only see your ******* eyes behind them. It's hard looking into the mirror because everyone says I look just like you. Act just like you. Talk just like you. *******. I hate being compared to your ******* being and you have left me with nothing.
I think after I finish writing this I will have a funeral and think of creative ways that you may have died oh-so-young, because when people ask what happened to my dad I can feel more confident about the answer "he's gone".

Sincerely,
The daughter who will never let you back in.

I:** japanese ice tea kisses during a techno party.
II: he first hold my hand during another techno party.
III: licking stuff from his fingers & his tongue during a lot of other parties.
IV: every sunrise we saw.

the dark is like
a cup of
youth
a nostalgic omnipresence
that never fades
always the same at the end of every day
but no walls can keep me protected
from the thoughts that the dark brings like
unwanted guests to
a pity party
we belong to the dark
born in the dark
erased in the dark
never felt so alive entrenched in black
yet so dead
because closing my eyes does nothing
to the sheet that lays over my eyes
where there is no light to hide
from
the waking world

I long to travel,
but for a place to call my own.
I wish to find true love,
but for solidarity.
I dream of spontaneity,
but of stability.
Everyday, nostalgic,
but dreaming of tomorrow.

Praying for simplicity,
if not for contradiction.