What could have been?
It’s something that crosses my mind every once in a while,
And no matter how hard I try not to,
I always end up thinking about it.

Would it have worked if I walked up to him?
If I had complimented his pretty smile and beautiful poetry?
If I had stared a little longer than just a glance, would he have noticed me?
Would me just being blunt, and confessing to him get me the reciprocation I wanted?
Would that have gained me the pretty boy with personality, that now haunts me like a ghost in campus hallways?

What could have been?

If I followed through with my plans to get him,
Would I currently be calling him?
Would we be exchanging good morning texts and poems if I had listened and just talked to him?

What could’ve been?

If I had wished him more than good luck,
would I be wishing him a safe return when he leaves?
Would I be sharing with him my deepest of thoughts, and all the love I put into my poetry?
If I was honest would our story be one for the books?
If I played my cards right, would he have been mine?

What could have been?
It’s something I can’t help but think about.
The thought lingers around my mind the same way he lingers around my heart
What could have been?

It's hard to see from so far away-
at least, from what I can tell,
you are happy.
Happier? Probably.
Lounging in the 9th stratosphere,
maybe even so far as
just past the moon.
And who wouldn't take that trip?
The most I could offer was a pig
and some ****.

Maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe you would have lived life on the ground
but I never believed it.
Never wanted to squish you down to earth
and keep you contained,
bursting at the seams beside me,

waiting for you to understand what I had always known:
The ground under your feet was as needed
as the wind through your fingers,
the sea in your lungs
and the stars in your eyes.
And that you were always going to leave.

I got the message today, the finality is alarming
How all veils have been removed, as its regarding
Or would be love story, If I could be the One
Who takes you to see the moon and not get boiled by the sun

I shiver, I cry, I hope you didn't take to heart
The anger I spewed and the hope it doesnt break us apart
I came like a volcano, and you a Tsunami
Only now does it dawn for me how you're so far from me

I said thing to instill a reaction
But instead of satisfaction
I get the realization that this extended vacation
will be our dedication to what was and will never be

A girl and a boy manage to become best friend
But boy falls in love and girl follows suite
Unknowing they'd be each others rock, person
Now one stands firm and the other uncertain


Does it end tonight, do angered words repel honeyed apologies?
Can love conquer all and fulfill their destiny?
Do they become ones Soul mates to now polar opposites
Or day even more distant, now used to be's and Pessimists?

what if you are not
the only one
waiting
for
love?

what if your
soulmate
has been
destined
with the
same
wait?

will you consider
the possibility
of this
what if?

I am often told that i give up too quickly
But the answer is I never fully give in to begin with
I keep my admiration locked away like a precious jewel
All my love is just unsent postcards I keep in a packed suitcase.
I am afraid to give in to my heart
Because what if my heart is lying to me?
What if my heart is playing a cruel trick on me?
What if the nervous beating of my heart is just the roller coaster I have yet to leave.

When the longingness
Strikes once again
And the "what ifs"
Seek more answers

I strengthen my resolve
Keep my head up high
And give a long sigh
This too, will pass by.

You thought you'd left the days of make believe behind by the time you were nine.
And yet, years later, here you are
making yourself believe you'll be okay
so you can make your baby believe the same.
Somewhere along the way,
we seem to correlate imagination
with maturity.
But what if it has less to do with growing up and more to do with surviving?
What if it's a defense mechanism?

I love the person I've become/but I hate the person I had to be to get to her/ I wouldn't write the younger years out/for fear of who that would shape her to be today/that is you would find a completely different person/still bathing in lukewarm water/or lost at sea in a turbulent trapped mind/unaware/and yet I wish I could pick and choose/to remove those images, those words, the fighting/not all the bad/but the biggest of these./Who would she be?

In dreams, I've lived. In life, I'll die.
In dreams, I get to say "hello" again.
In life, I have to say goodbye.
In dreams, I'm not afraid.
But in life, I'm terrified.
Terrified of what I don't know. What I can't see.
Terrified I won't be who I'm meant to be.
But what if that's by design?
What if dreams are visions of heaven
and nightmares visions of hell?
I could sit here forever hypothesizing,
so I'll leave you with one final thought.
We tell each other to follow our dreams.
If dreams are visions of heaven,
maybe all of our failures, our efforts,
are not for naught.