I thought you loved me,
so I spoke my thought aloud,
but love from me is nothing if it’s broke

You thought it must be a joke,
and as you said it aloud you considered,
who could love me for what I am
but that part you kept closed,
leaving me hollow with your shattering response.

And so I thought you just felt bad
and in light of this situation you tried to make me laugh
as friends do in such awkwardness.

But your jester like quality only brought me hurt
as all my truth and honesty was for nothing,
I thought it was for nothing…

And so I never knew the truth.

Stop, I can’t fall for you, I’m not allowed,
I’m not allowed to speak out to you
For speaking to you would hurt me more,
bringing me the realisation it will never happen.

Instead I will sit here and write,
I’ll write you encrypted poems you’ve seen,
without knowing they’re for you,
a sign of how I feel for you.

But you don’t get it do you?
How would you know what I feel
when I don’t even know how I feel for you.

The simple answer is you wouldn’t.
You could rip my skin and hear it peel
and not understand that it hurts.
All you would do is see the process
and continue on your way.

I’m screaming for you to talk to me,
as talking to me would bring me a relief,
a relief that it wasn’t all in my head,
that I wasn’t assuming it all.

So end my emotional torture before
I put myself out of this misery and try again.

I was told by those who should have held.
Their evil words all to themselves.  

That I'm weird and old but I don't dwell
On words of haters' speech very well.

Most folks have little self control.
Of their words, or of their hateful soul.

Since Mr. Rogers and Sesame Street
Taught them to always vent and weep.

On to sports their tongues developed
Cursed their opponents and crushed each other

It is all a part of the American way
Using hate as the basis for what they say.

I  wish they'd be quiet and in retrospect
Plan their thoughts with love and respect.

Till then I hear the bad words and speech,
They want something like some ******* leech.

And when I sleep it all goes away.
The two more hours holds their spite at bay.

Friend, try silence on for just a day.
And when you speak, think before you say.

While going for a walk through a pretty bare trail I came across a blooming white flower. Let me remind you, it's the middle of April after the worst winter in a decade and the most snow Michigan has ever received. Anyways, while witnessing this white flower I felt the need to speak and connect with it.
So I spoke to the flower in a desperate tone saying "please, little white flower, teach me your ways." Knowing it wouldn't respond I continued. "How can you bloom so beautiful surrounded by this?" "Surrounded by brown and gray you blossom with pearl. I cannot bloom as bright in a world full of brightness, yet you bloom brighter in your world or darkness." I think for a moment though. "Maybe my world is as dark, if not darker. And your message to me is to see beyond the naive. To come out stronger when everyone else Is under the brush, to speak even louder when the others stay hushed."

But the thing is, this little white flower was just born to bloom first, born to be white, just born in the marsh to be ignored.
Yet as humans we try our hardest to change who we are to get noticed, an still don't.
Now I think that says something.

I have dreamed of you. Branch like arms, solid sapling strength
as you arrange words perfectly on a page. I have so long been frightened of shattering the silence. Silence and I, we are old friends, can it do without me? Dare I bruise it? As the proverb says, are my words beautiful enough to make snowflake-shards when it breaks?
     Words, what are words? I can write them quietly-- silently, here they hold no decibled danger-- shout them, sing them, whisper-- silently.
     I thought my mouth an ugly thing. Sister jealous of quiet depth, woman of few words, tired of the vomited syllables that pour from others, tongues flapping. Do words live or die when spoken? I could not add a note to the melee, my head swims as it is. Voices, so many voices, inside, around, abreast, beside. I cannot help but listen. I listened so long to their siren's songs I forgot how to speak. I have mastered the silent tongue. Fluent in touch, in sigh, in glance, shift, breath. Incompetent translator, I have forgotten the mother tongue, red lips standing locked and lifeless. Does something misfire in my mind, rusty rifle whose trigger cannot be pulled but on dry days? Thoughts have scattered like leaves under my feet. I am bland, I am blank, blanched, useless, dumb.
     Speak, you say. I want to speak. I will sing, I will shout, scream, anything for you. Listen to how much you mean to me. But not just for you. For me. For the heart of hearts that cannot reach the page, the tone even the most emotive of words cannot capture. Yet fear has bound the mouth of my heart shut. So afraid of causing harm. So afraid of pain. Is the fear of suffering really worse than the suffering itself? I am frightened of the first un-eloquent strokes of the tongue.I do not want to blather, chatter, stutter on about pettiness.  I do not want my head to speak when my heart cannot. Tell me, dear heart, tell me, tired heart. Tell me we will learn to speak again.

If I never wrote
people would never know that I live--
does that matter--
it sure does to me.

That when my thoughts
and words
all my experiences
never hinted to involve another person.

How can anyone ever know:
that I think
I ponder
and I thrive
that amongst all my knowledge,
desperately I pander
for the eyes atop hills
and inside the trees around me

to speculate about my life,
when the wind brushes
through my hair
and sweeps across plains
knocking into trees
and leaking into your homes.

There are hints of my brevity
lingering within the air
and next time you speak
you'll realize that these words,
are not yours alone
but the words I've snuck
into your mind
with the wind.

I'll build up to it
I've hinted at it a tiny bit
But the words don't come out right
They look ugly
And that's how I feel when i write about it
But I know I didn't deserve it
But it still takes time to come to terms
With the whole situation
And I don't know how long it will take
Because one day I'll share it
And it will hopefully help others learn
That they're not alone
And I won't be alone
And then we could all speak out
Together.