I listen to our music,
My cell phone on my shoulder
Waiting to buzz and give me your words.

But I will drift soon.

And when I do,
I will not respond to you.
But you will know I am dreaming of you.

Because I always am.

In the dark, reading by light.
I look away from the performance on the page
Just as thunder strikes.
The beat of my heart stops.

The light flashes from outside my window
And I am alive again.

I stand and see,
Draw my shades,
And sleep.
Forever.

Drip, Drip, Drop!
The tears come running,
Splashing to the floor.
The blank page dotted,
The ink running away
From the letters I try to deliver.
I need to say why
I choose to leave.
Because of this,
The tears come running.

Reading words
Written painfully
And accurately.
Histories revealed
And futures
Being dreamed.
And it
All conspires
To destroy
And demolish
Your mind.

I want to sleep with you.

I want to sleep* with you.

Your arms around me,
Our legs dancing the entwine.
My lips on your neck,
And your sigh in my ear.

No ***. In fact,
Fully clothed.
Or mostly.

Just us.

All I want is to say my rhyme
In person.
And kiss your eyes as I do.

"Close your eyes. Left, then right. Goodnight, Starlight."

I dream of your voice constantly.
I can't hear words,
Just your voice.

Just you.

I never said it.
You thought I did...
You think me a guanophiliac, apparently,
But there is no such thing.
I never said it...
Were on the phone
And you're singing it to me,
Growling,
Whispering.
Over.
And over
And over.
Why?
I NEVER Said it!

Time.
We need more time;
No sleepy eyes or scratchy contact lenses.
No interruptions or pain.
No curfews or plans for the next day.

I want to feel your skin under my fingertips
And kiss you until you shake.
I want to fall asleep on your shoulder
And (supposedly) murmur in my slumber.
I want to wake up to find you looking into my eyes,
A soft smile illuminating your face.
And I want to be able to say,
"Good morning, love."
Without it being a digital message.

I love you.

Sweetie, Dear, Honey Bunny.
I always will.
And I will dream of the day when
My wishes come true.

The sharpness of your cheeks.
The soft curve of your lips.
The shadows on your collarbones.
The shape of your hands when you stroke my thigh.
The hard, toned muscles encasing your slender frame.
The long and strong legs that carry you.
The arch of your back as you begin to jump.
The curious look you give when you catch me staring.
The faint blush you (sometimes) show.
The hungry grins you let shine through
Or the laughing smile when you are with friends and family.
And the haunting color in your eyes.

I could go on, but I'm just trying to say,
You are the definition of
Sheer Perfection.
You are the definition of
Absolute Beauty.
And you are
Entirely *Mine.

I need... no.
I want to stay awake.
I want to talk to him,
Imagine him.
But I'm slipping.

Is it possible to be sleep-intolerant?
Not insomnia, just intolerant.
I want to be.
I'd accomplish so much!
I'd write,
Read,
And imagine my love holding me.

Of course, I'd miss my dreams,
But, in this reality, I'm also
*Living one.

Knowing what and what not to say is painful,
never knowing the outcome.
Just be sure to expect the worst.
The wonder in our words unspoken
echo across exposed skin.
Trying to hide the truth may not be the way to go,
but can be inevitable if it wants to be found.

Sigh and empty your invisible wounds,
lay them in this kiss.
They will forever be forgotten
and never will be missed.

The pain felt by others may be my only weakness.
My empathy overpowering.
Used to hiding the emotions I steal
in strange looks and heated kisses
My mind and soul are hidden, even if not for long.
If only I could keep it from those who are there.

Sigh and empty your invisible wounds,
lay them in this kiss.
They will forever be forgotten
and never will be missed.

Time is passed as we  grow stronger,
but the agony we bare remains.
This confusion entices me, telling me to give in.
Who can I turn to?
What can i do?
Nothing is helping and i wont go to you.

This pain is mine alone.
Not for you to see.
my purpose now is to run
And make it all unknown.

Once upon what seems like so long ago,
We were children incapable of being tainted.
A kiss was just a peck on the cheek
And "*****" was just something that you drilled into a wall.
Boys and girls could be friends, best friends even,
Like mine were, and rumors of *** were unheard of.
When fights on the playground were just childish games,
And we didn't care about other's opinions.
We wondered what it would be like to grow up, never realizing the horrors.
Of the lies,
The drama,
The torture we would face.
Now, we think back, wondering why we ever changed.
Why we wished to be the way we are now.

Today, we are Teenagers;
Hormonal,
Emotional,
Physical,
And undoubtedly stereotypical.
Society seems to think we are incapable of rationality.
Incapable of thinking about consequences instead of pleasure
And who the next girl to "pop" would be.
But, no.
We wonder why.
Why we had to change.
Why we did change.
Why we lost our most prized possession.
We remember the friends we had,
The promises we made.
The inside jokes that everyone knew.
The one kid we wanted to marry,
And then they moved across the country.

We were so innocent, and knew so little.
Until we grew and adapted to the young adult life.
We claimed to be happy, and others believed,
But all of us teens know
We long to be young.
We long to be innocent.
We long to be normal.
Not the perverted freaks people think us to be.
Not the people who judge boys who act like girls
Or the girls who look like boys.

Our innocence and ability to understand was robbed from us
The second we left Elementary school.
Some of us now feel the  need to bully others,
To judge our peers,
To impress the opposite gender by exposing ourselves.

If only we could remember the innocence.
If only we could bring it back like a retro fashion sense,
Yet keep it here instead of letting it die for good.
Could we try?
Will it work?

Could it still be with us after all this time?

I wish I could not speak.
Maybe then,
The things I wish to say would be more meaningful
And I would say so much more.

I wouldn't say
"I love you".
I would show it.

And I wouldn't recite poetry,
I would act it.

And I wouldn't tell jokes.

*I would be them.

Just looking at you yesterday,
I figured out so much.

Like how deep "Us" goes.
And how much I respect you,
Trust you,
And mostly Love you.

There are too many things to name,
But trying and failing is better than never beginning.

But I don't even know where to start....
Your determination
To change the world in your unique way,
One step at a time?

Your gentle smile when we meet eyes and
(I think) you know I'm wondering?

Your distant stares with complex codes that I have yet
To crack?

Your laugh... Where do I begin?
Just that alone gives me goosebumps
Only because the sound belongs to you alone.

And of course your toned body and skilled lips
Are a bonus.

I love you.
There's so many reasons,
And so many unknown factors.
But I don't care.

I just hope this made you smile,
Just like I did when I read it for the first time.

I nearly fell asleep in class again.
The boredom lulling me and making me
Numb.

And then a spell is cast. You enter
My mind without permission. You are always there,
But...
This time you completely took over.

There is never enough time.
It's screaming at me, echoing in my seemingly
Empty
Skull. Ringing in my ears, tearing my neck away.
I can't breathe.
I am new, but I can't write about it.
Too much time to think...
Yeah right. I calmly feel numb. Blank.

I just got old and I wrapped
Your sweatshirt tighter around me.
It doesn't smell like you anymore,
It smells like me.

But knowing that it is yours
And that you wore it
Still gives me comfort.

But it doesn't matter.
I'm still going to give it back to you at the end of the day.

Twenty years from now, I'll look back
And see a smile on your face.
A sweet one, A comical one, And a hungry one.
Nothing will stop me from remembering your sweet words;
Remembering your lips on my skin;
Remembering your pulse in the palm of my hand.

How annoyed you get when I'm talking about your Christmas present
Without giving hints.
And how angry you were when I wouldn't delete the picture,
Then felt guilty when I said I would.

And in the twenty years between now and then,
Hopefully you will be by my side.
Every step of the way. Through every fight,
Secret, and unexpected photograph.
Every decision, uncomfortable silence,
And chalk drawing of my emotions.

I love you.
Forever and always.

I can only think of
Things to come.

And soon, my head pounds,
My hands shake, I talk faster
My voice shakes I can't
think i dont know what
todo howtofix it
idontknowanythingand...

I can feel it all.
In the left side of my brain,
A dull ache sounds,
A ringing and a buzzing.

Please end this.
Now.

I wish I could sing.
And maybe I can,
But I want the voice that will give people chills
And lull them to sleep.
That soft beautiful voice that always seems prominent
In movies.

I want to create a melody
That tells a story, even if there are no audible words.

And I want robe able to show my emotions clearly,
So people will not misjudge me.

I have a song in my head.
And I blame it for this dilemma

But, then again, you sang it.

I am not good at using metaphorical statements.
The creative part of my mind is a brick wall,
Blocking everything behind it and keeping it from shining
Through this fog.
The words I say seem to be blank stares, waiting for a response, but not begging.
But of course they rejoice and hang banners and ribbons.
I am still not okay with being a porcelain doll.
Or a marionette,
Or a mannequin.
And I am still not good with metaphors.
But I can still show my soul,
Even if it is only a half finished painting.

It's review.
Easy. Too easy.

Simplify by distributing
And combine like terms.

Move the variables first.

Move constants.

Solve and check.

But we already knew this. Why would we be here if we didn't?
I can't work if I'm not challenged.
And today, I nearly fell asleep.

Although life is one pitiful concert,
Not everyone needs to play or perform.
The music plays, happily or hurt,
But never loses the mind it flows in from.

The ear of an adolescent girl
Listens intently to quizzical noises.
The voice of a teen male yet to unfurl,
Cracks under pressure before other voices.

Nerves take the best of him, dragging away
The voice of one blossoming new artist.
The listener and artist go to stay
Under the lonely heavens in the mist.

If the two bodies officially met,
What would become of old decisions?
Just as if the mist would rise and wet
Their instruments, would it mute musicians?

Some girls decide
Done with One, Onto Another.
They stomp on hearts with their
Expensive stilettos.

The difference between
Them and Me:
I don't have the time or money
To walk in their shoes.
And, frankly,
*I don't *want to.

When I draw, or write for that matter,
I go into a daze.
Almost like unwilling meditation.
I don't see my own work until it is done
Except for few occasions.

I drew us today.
Or at least the feeling I get
When were together
And you touch me,
Hold me,
Kiss me.

It's almost a portrait.
The girl has wings
And toe shoes.
She dances atop floating ribbons
Which flare to form a heart.

Her head is an eye.
Representing my clarity
And freedom when I see you.
When I see only you.

And She is my masterpiece.

Lately, more deep connections are made though poetry.
Right here.
It shouldn't be this way.

Just spit it out!

If you have a problem, Tell me.
Scream at me.
Whine to me.

If you have issues with me, Shout them in my face
And force me to listen to the echo.
So that I may fix it.
And apologize.

Forgive me for worrying,
But you have left me no choice.

You've been through a lot, and haven't told me much.
When in most others' circumstances,
The Girlfriend would be the first to know.


It seems that you always find a way to make me cry,
And spill everything that bothers me at the time.
I can't do that for you.
Its obvious that something is bugging you, but you wont tell me.

Just forget it...
I'm just about done trying...
Just about done fighting
Because it seems like you won't let me.

The tears fall for what feels like a thousand years.
I stand, watching them fall to the ground at my feet.
The pain in this head is unbearable.
The Thoughts, The Dreams, The Nightmares
That I enjoy without control.
In my sleeping head I look at pools of my own blood and scream.
Yet I come back to the conscious world with a smile on my face.

I'm surprised to find
That my lips and body don't
Ting
When I move.
Considering my face is made of Porcelain
Or glass
Or clay.
Anything fragile.

Its a mask.
A somewhat happy looking one
That's been shattered.
Glued.
Shattered.
Taped.
Shattered.
Remade.
Broken and stolen.

I'm done hiding.

As I lay crying,
The tears burn like acid.
Worse than holding my arm over
A candle flame
As I have done many times before.

It hurts to know that you've cried for me;
Because of me.
It feels good,
Hurting to pay you back
For things I've done.

That was last night.
Now my mind burns,
Wondering
If it will ever be the same.
If we are okay.

My mind burns more
Than my tears.

It hurts to burn
Like the witch...
No.

Like the ***** I am.

I had a dream that you looked
Into my eyes.
And stroked my cheek with your fingertips.
Ever so gently.

And the world around us fell.

This math, I don't need.
This history, I don't need.
I want my life to center in art, writing,
Literature.
I read, I write,
And I capture the word in one precise moment that will never be seen again.
A lost time.
In one snapshot.
I hate these numbers.
And I hate the history that has corroded our world.

I want something else.
I don't need this place.

I had somewhere I wanted to go.
I would fit there.
But I can't.

Right now, music would help.
Melting into it and draining the world of its color.
Black and white.
No more thoughts, just the beat.
Other people's words.
And just noise.
No more thinking.

There is a voice inside of you
That whispers all day long.
"I know that this is right for me,
I know that this is wrong."
No teacher, preacher, parent, friend,
Or wise man could decide
Whats right for you- just listen to
The voice that speaks inside.

~Shel Silverstein

With a single embrace,
A single kiss,
A single stroke
And I melt.
My heart goes out to you,
Belongs to you.
I want to make you happy.
So I gave you my personal set of keys.

When we collide,
Connect when we are alone,
I can feel the beads
Rolling down your body,
Making you wet and slippery.
Your skin warm,
Burning.
And all I can think of
Is how cold I feel.
Chills from how you touch me
Encasing my body.

Fire and Ice.

All I can say is... *Opposites Attract

ohbutitisfair.wearenoweven.besidesivegivenyoulessthanyouvegivenme­

A promise is a promise.
No matter how old or how silly it seems.
-
Promise me...
Tell me if you ever stop loving me.

Or else it will hurt more when I find out.
-
Promises are meant to be fulfilled.
Even if pain is caused.
-
Promise me...
Tell me when you are in pain.

I know how much it can hurt.
Better than anyone, I think.
-
And these promises are mine.
And yours.
I trust you.
Keep them.
-
Promise me...

If I ever say I need time alone again,
Don't leave me.

It only makes me cry more to see you walk away.

I am not normal.
It's as simple as that.
I like both girls and boys,
I enjoy classic literature as well as others.

I am simply not normal.
It's as true as the smile that this poem brings to both me and the reader.
I am mismatched,
I wear mo-hawks to school and buzz my hair off.

I am strange.
As easy as ABC.
I take pride in my differences,
And I respect others who are like me as well.

We are all strange.
We are all not normal.


It's as simple as that.

I've been thinking...
I need answers.
Reasons.
It may be true that you open up around me, but...
You still seem closed off.
I know there's more.
I can see it.
It makes me think you don't trust me.

I tell you a lot.
I've cried in front of you.
And I've revealed my biggest secret
That I thought you'd reject me for.

I need a reason not to think so.
A reason to believe that you aren't
S.l.o.w.l.y backing away.
Abandoning me.

You say "I love you" often enough,
But that's not what I need.
I need a random confession of whatever is bothering you.
Just let it out!
I need you to stop worrying and feel worried about for once!
Because I do worry.

I used to do this
And I've healed tremendously.
It might have been worse
Considering I would tell friends out of nowhere
"I want to **** myself"
But I still let it out.

Even if its not as bad for you,
Or if it is,
It helps to be heard.
And I've given you multiple reasons to speak.

I am not afraid
To be real.
Just as long as I have Kestrel
To do it for me.
My alter-ego,
My twin,
My alias.
My name to most is unknown,
But they still know it.
They still know me,
*Kestrel

Roses are red,
Violets are Blue.
I am going to bed.

*Will you come, too?

I know its bothering you still.
No reason why it wouldn't.
The elephant in the room.
I worry constantly,
And I wonder how you're doing,
But I don't want to pry.

But if it ever comes to mind,
You can talk to me.
Maybe it'll help.
And maybe I can be a shoulder to cry on
For once.

You can trust me
With anything.

A girl who danced and loved pink,
A girl who easily made friends,

A girl who changed at age 8.
Pink to black.
Koolaid to bitter tea.
Forgot about God because he was never there for her.

Suicide seemed a miracle then.
A solution for everything.
A girl who was sad but kept it hidden
From the ones who cared,
Hiding behind neon colors and pigtails.

Slowly coming out of her shell.
A girl who was judged.
People feared her, and for her.
They even told her.
Emo,
Goth,
Freak.
She learned these as compliments
And realized people are just ignorant.
They didn't understand what the words meant.

Either way, she hid again.

She is still trying to hide
Behind her colors and smiles.

*I* Am still trying to hide behind my colors and smiles.

strengthisknowingyourplaceintheworld

You unknowingly reach to me.
Feel the energy in your fingertips when you touch me.

I can feel it, too.

It feels warm,
Cold,
Fuzzy,
Pressurized.
It makes me shiver.

You've done it.
You've accomplished the next step.
You have the sight,
Now you have the touch.

**I can teach you more.

A young girl, looking for an adventure,
A silly soul not wanting to curse her.
A mind to die, inevitable at least,
Whom oft creates her inner manic beast.
To loves and lost ones, she spoke so dearly,
And told her stories to relate so nearly.
A premonition shows only in mind,
The world as is, not entirely kind.
The closest ones in their own little worlds,
And blind to Mother Earths kin, sprouting curls.
So tightly she held to wisdom she earned.
Preparing to lose the words she had learned.
Of ways she influenced, words recorded,
Then dying soon, angels wings worn and sordid.

amazinghowonewordcanmakemesway