Listen, I may not be the you dream about.
I might not be the one you think about.
I do know this.
I can make you happy.

I might not be that pretty boy.
The one that women all fight over.
I do know this.
I can make you happy.

If you look past all the false stuff.
You might find your diamond in the rough.
The one that make you shine with a smile.
That's bigger than you could ever imagine.

I might not be the one with lots of money.
I might not be that entertainer or celebrity.
I do know this.
I can make you happy.

I might not be the one fighting over you.
I might not be the one using you.
Who's trying to manipulate you in every way?
I do know this.
I can make you happy.

What you usually want in life?
Won't come from those you think you want.
Because you walking in a path to please others.
And not yourself.

I want to go on a journey.
     A splendid adventure.
In search of lost love
     That could have been
          But never was.

I want to wander every inch of you.
     Writing love letters across your back and chest
          With my tongue.
     Tagging your neck, arms and thighs
          With lingering kisses.

I want to travel to southern regions.
     Exploring new pathways to heaven.
Unraveling the concepts of time.
     Bringing past to present; present to future
          Making you mine.

I want to board a shuttle with you.
     Launching us beyond this world.
Suspended among the moon and stars
     Bringing the entire universe to halt
          At the very moment  
               you yell out
                    my name.

©Tina Thompson

I want to
Do shots of Jack
And
Wander around a city
Drunk and lost
And
Cry on the sidewalk
About lost love and new love and
Just love in  general
And
Hurt myself
(Accidentally)
So I can't feel the
Shame until later
And
Get lost in my
Cloud of cigarette smoke
And
Let myself be sexually abused
And
Feel so ashamed
That I walk around
Hollow
And
Have scars on my cheeks
From my burning
Rivers of mascara
And
Sit in an ally
And
Try to rub off my tattoos
And
Cry myself to sleep
If I ever find
My way back home.

And so I'll run away from the deaths
The heartbreaks and the wars
And lock myself away

There's ivories and ebonies
Rosewood and steel strings
Horse hair and pearls

I'll stare at white pages for hours
Deciphering their strange locked codes

The way I truly feel
I've let my soul take flight
And it's never coming back

My life is filled with song
Music runs my life
My heart
And it's never setting me free

There's a girl
somewhere
and she's happy
she looks to her boyfriend when things get tough
but he can't really assist
she's happy
she's so happy
but everyone's skeptical of her

There's a girl
far away
and she's content
she spends time with her girlfriend
despite the backlash she gets to be seen with her
she's content
she's very content
but she can't understand why everyone hates her so much

There's a girl
over there
and she's alright
her boyfriend yells at her sometimes
about her ex's
she's alright
she's perfectly alright
but she can't understand why everyone's so upset with her

There's a girl
someplace
and she's upset
she looks to her boyfriend for help
and he tries so hard but
she's upset
she's thoroughly upset
and she wishes everyone would stop making fun of her

There's a girl
in the ground
and she's dead
she killed herself one night
because of everyone else
she's dead
she's properly dead
and no can understand why she did it

The moon yawns:
yet another all-nighter for him.

He wants to rest
but our dreams are too interesting for him to miss.
How can he sleep
when all these beautiful things are being woven before him?
He must stay up and read them.

He's so focused on our dreams
that he can't see the holes in the sky.

The holes the stars are burning.

He can't see them,
and it's for the best, really.
Let him be,
peacefully content with reading our dreams.

I find it funny that
Our band director
Noticed that I was happier
Before even I did.
He noticed how happy you made me
And I made you
Before it registered in myself.
That first month
Before we started dating
Was filled with
Tears and suicide and sleeping too much
And bleeding and those nights of
Sobbing to you.
And you to me.
You saw me cry
Before you asked me anything.
I saw your scars
Before we shared a kiss.
I guess, once in a while,
There's the storm
Before the calm.

I thought these ghosts
were long gone.
I thought I threw them out--
evicted them from my head--
but I was wrong.
They came back to play.
About a month ago
they grabbed onto a nearby shard of glass
and etched their way out of my arm.
Six of them.
Six times
that glass ripped my skin open.
six times
I ripped my skin open.
And I loved it. . . .
every
scratch
made me smile.
They're beautiful.
The evil ghosts,
the ghosts that cry
and ghosts that are mean
and ghosts that are depressed
are gone.
Only the ghosts that laugh were left behind.