May this scream turn to a melody
to force your fires outward.
May the explosions that crawl up your throat,
into your mouth, your eyes, your hands,
emerge through your fingertips to create,
not destroy.

It is how you speak. I know your language.
The power you wield can't break the skin, and your voice,
trapped under someone else's rocks.

Let yourself be color and light.
Think your thoughts, it's okay.
Scream until your soul can sing again,
then let your fingers dance through the melody,
not along the sharp edge of darkness.

We are here. You're not alone.
Speak, we will listen.

Why do I write poetry:
Many nights I have slept
With words of yours wrapped all around me
And now every time I lay
Those words whisper to me.
I must write to maintain my sanity.

Why do I write poetry:
Sometimes when I see sunset all I can think of is how you were the light of my eyes and when you left the sun set and it has never dawned since then
And I must write; ode to its remembrance

Why do I write poetry:
Sometimes I get really confused as to where I'm going except that no road will be taking me to you and the brown of the earth is the closest I'll get to have a souvenir of you
And I must write about the brown eyes I no longer wake up to

Why do I write poetry:
Every time you spoke there was a quiet all around while your words etched themselves on my fragile heart
And now there is only chaos left
And I must write to give my heart the silence to reminisce about your voice

Why do I write poetry:
I removed pieces of me to make you a home and now it only aches where my heart should be
And I must write to distract and empty myself of whatever is left

Why do I write poetry:
This is a world where please stay is followed only by a sorry as their response
And I must write because paper never cringes when I confess about my love

You are so unseemly.
My breath is hot.
All around is the smell of pleasant times.
I want to break things.

The garden is broken.
All I ever want is so hot I am melting.
It seems time for pleasentries.
Things want me breathing, loudly.

Lighting rod between my teeth
You are static electricity built up in the clouds
I'm just waiting for shock to set in

We will leave you in the midst
of a poetic truce, as you spill
experiences into our open palms.

Writing to make sense of what
has happened, nestling your
deepest secrets in our fingertips.

Our roots so deep in our poetry,
if you tried to unearth us, we would
shriek louder than banshee's.

Unravel our words, enter the
labyrinth of our minds, there are
sunsets in our stomachs, and
December runs through our veins.

We are the stars to your blank skies,
the pause between each ragged breath,
the tragedy suffocating the air.

We are the pause before the applause.
We are rarity's like Haley's comet
making you scramble for a telescope.

Only crows writhing with broken
necks are more twisted than the life
stories resting under our tongues.

We are poets, engraved in history,
fluent in all that is artistic and worldly.

Poetry a warm blanket we remain
hidden in on a cold winter morning.
Reality is a cold floor that our
bare feet are too scared to touch.

*By JannaLee Perry and Rapunzel