The paper drips with red blood from my soul
There’s no ink left in my pen
The clock has used up all its hours
The music of the spheres has ended.

I set out to build a village in a place
Not hard to find without a map
Proudly I used local lumber
Made sure the walls were square and true.

Sadly no one wants to live there
No one stops to hear my song
(Just one clear voice and not an opera )
People look and listen briefly then move on
     ≈
Wandering through the others’ harvests
I see words stacked in random order
Piled like fancy autumn haystacks
Held in place with azure ribbons

Mumbled voices raised in solos
Whose words I cannot parse or learn
Where verses run from one to twenty
And the applause is deafening

What seems real is evanescent
Fleeting as the winking of an owl
Impossible to braid with just two strands
And painted over with graffiti.
   ≈
How am I to fly when it appears
That I can barely walk and yet
I thought that I knew how to dance.
I guess I never found the beat.

I can’t but keep on building sturdy
Little one theme dwellings
It’s the only thing I know
And I’ll live there all by myself

And hope a visitor or two
Will stop by now and then
To say hello and how are you
And share a cup of my brand’s tea.
ljm

It may be time to go away
Too many cookies are uneaten
And a few are only nibbled

I baked all night for many days
And used up all my spices
But few customers appeared

I laid them on my very best tray
And priced them as a bargain
Now most of them are growing stale

I think it’s time to close up shop
The other’s cakes were obviously better
Their customers waited in long lines

It will be hard for me to stop
My hands are white with flour
And my apron’s tied so tightly

Still, no farmer wants to plant a crop
That never will be eaten -
Are cookie bakers not the same

Perhaps my wafers were too plain
And lacking decoration
I thought that flavor was enough

But recognition brings me pain
I felt my recipes were special
But everyone had better ones

It seems that I cannot sustain
The dream of being Mrs. Fields
When It comes to writing cookies
               ljm

We first met on the bus.
I was dating your best friend.
You thought I deserved more than him.
You made me smile and made me laugh.
You made me feel loved.
The day you decided you would ask me out,
was the day I felt alive.
Its like you breathed air in my lungs for the first time.
You were my world.
I told you I'm not perfect or I will hurt you
You said that it didn't matter because you loved me.
You loved me
I believed this game you played for 10 months.
I couldn't see that our time was up.
I still loved you through the fights and arguments.
I still loved your flaws and your imperfections.
Then the day came,
where the pain just got deeper.
I loved you so much that I couldn't understand why you were with a girl,
that who you hated with all your heart.
So I let you go because I loved you.
I gave up my happiness so you could be happy.
I gave up my world so you could be free.
And there you are,
Showing me that you never loved me the way I loved you.
Flirting with every girl you see,
calling people names.
I just stand from afar,
watching the person I love,
torturing myself ,
regretting everything.
But I did it because,
**I Love You

I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.
I wonder about the stars, burning meteorites that are slowly sizzling out.
I hear the clock, a sound of wasted moments in time tick, tick, ticking.
I see the good in people no matter whom; human beings do things for a reason wether its love, fear or safety.
I want to feel comfortable in my skin and for my brain to be able to come up for air.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

I pretend to stay calm while inside my mind the whirring windmill keeps turning.
I feel the need to be like a flower opening myself up to the suns positivity and blocking out the negatives.
I touch the little bird nestled in my chest urging it to fly to freedom.
I worry for events that may never happen riding the wave of panic until it dwindles.
I cry for moments where I didn’t take the leap, times of fear that limited me.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

I understand that it won’t always be ok and that during these times the little bird may falter.
I say that it’s going to be alright and that this moment shall pass.
I dream of the day the little bird finds its wings, finally taking flight.
I try to inspire others, teaching them to find their inner birds.
I hope to someday inspire others, to make a world of birds free to fly.
I am a constantly changing tide, feeling one way in one moment and another in the next.

Stuck in the same destructive cycle
Get lost in the shadows that define it
Heart beats a descriptive thud
Mind finds some comfort
In the familiar rejection.
Invisible hands press on my shoulders
Voices whisper in my ear:
Open your eyes girl
You were never good enough
That's why they always leave you
That's why they don't want you.
Every time I close my eyes
There's another thing I've failed at..
All the thoughts clutter down
Like tin cans falling through a chute
In need of distraction
I fall back into the rhythm
The cycle of destruction..
Trying to shut it all out
But rocking myself in the darkness
Only makes it grow louder
I'm not good enough
I'm a fraud
I'm a failure...
Don't let them get to know me
I'm a mess underneath the skin

This is why
I want to live under the stars
No walls no echoes
There's a place there
For people like me

How clumsy of me;
to sit straight up with attentive ears
The vulnerably of giving what's missed
Mistaken as misplaced.
I liked this clumsy side of me
Lopsided stumbles, a bit more reckless
This constant fumble
Definitely generous; mistaking kindness as guilt
A sense of being misplaced
How clumsy of you to drop something so precious
When all along did you ever want it
That sudden pain that wraps around your chest; manic
A sudden throb that complicates the slightest of gesture
How clumsy of me to misplace everything where I thought I would find it
Again hoping sufficient in empathy
How clumsy of me

Rendered helpless
Searching for sincere apology
When in reality it was me

 

with unsteady tender

For the fourth time this week,
I drove down J imagining you were in the seat next to me,
Telling me how much of a nerd I was for mouthing the words to the song playing.
Bayside had always been our favorite band,
This ride did not change that.
I mouthed that you were my rock so long as I was yours and you just smiled.
I awake from my reverie.
Fourteen hours later and you’ve hardly spoken to me today.
It’s normal, though, as you’re a busy guy.
This is what I’ve been telling myself for three years.
I apologize to the voices in my head for your behaviour.
“We’ve talked about this,”
I say,
“We’re not going to try anything because of the distance.”
I sigh to myself and erase the message I’ve typed out for you.
It’s the fifth time I’ve done it this hour,
Seeing as you never responded to the last.
Last time you said you loved me was three days ago.
I told you I love you two hours ago and you called me a nerd.
“Nerd.”
I take a deep breath at the thought of the word.
I try to replace it with something different.
“Love.”
“Beautiful.”
Beautiful.
You’ve called me beautiful, right?
I scroll through our messages, looking for a time where you might have.
I only find you telling me my smile “kills” you.
Those words still make me melt, and I hate it.
I hate myself for loving you like this.
I hate myself for hating myself for loving you,
As I convince myself again,
For the hundredth time,
That you do.
I’ve been begging for a sign that you do.
One aside from your words.
“Actions speak louder than words,”
I remind myself,
And think back to an action.
What have you done?
I can’t help but wonder if the songs you wrote about me,
Loving me,
And us,
Were sent to another.
The lack of specification in said songs makes me swallow hard.
I think back to the night you told me you broke down with your friend.
You told him everything,
How you’ve loved me for years,
How you’ve never been able to do something about it.
How you tell me you date so many girls but always think of me.
How I believe you.
I’m scared, now.
Every day that we’re apart,
I can’t help but worry and doubt.
Am I just some... toy?
I can’t help wonder to myself if I am,
And I scroll through our messages.
I’m torturing myself, really.
As I scroll I reflect on the amount;
Thousands of messages collected over the past three years.
Three years--
Why would you spend that much time ‘toying’ with someone?
My heart swells,
As do tears.
I erase the message I’ve typed out to you.
That's the sixth time this hour.
The cycle will repeat until I fall asleep,
One last unsent message sitting in my palm.
I stare at the screen, waiting for my eyes to close.
They don't.
"active now"
it reads under your name.
I stare at your display picture.
For the fourth time this week, I pretend you’re staring back.
And for the... what was it?
I’ve lost count.
I pretend you’re listening and I turn off the screen.*
“Goodnight, I love you. Sweet dreams.”