I wonder if God
    sees our numbered
breaths, how many
     have been & how
many are left,
millions of digits
    shifting above
our heads;
the old woman
 on the park bench
        with just 500 left. 
The jogger with 100
   between now &
        tonight when he
will exhale
     for a final time.
I should scale mountains,
         stare at the sun
  make my amount
  count, every last one.

To be loved brings joy beyond measure
Though to love is the most precious treasure.
Which is why what all of us yearn to do
Is find the one we can give our heart to.
One whom to us is so precious and dear,
That we dare to love without any fear.
The one we love with all our heart and soul,
One whose love in return makes us feel whole.

You open my door, you shelter me from harm
You line my path with petals, fragrant like silk
You hold my hand, you keep me nice and warm
You put cream in my coffee instead of milk.

You tell me nice things, just when I need to hear
You compliment me in every single way
You kissed  me on my lips at the start of the year
and keep your resolution up every breaking day.

You smile and it lights up my world it is so true
You came to me with promises which you keep
Cupid definitely shot the arrow the day I met you
you look after me when I'm awake and asleep.

In fact you never leave my side do you, not that I mind
You never judge me or step out of line.
You are thoughtful, though irritating but you are kind
I am not complaining however, you are my valentine.

I miss being a kid
when words on a paper
was second nature,
And whenever I would rhyme
I could blow people's minds
But now I can't find the words
to pass the time,
Small talk.

Don't ask how the weather is.
It's great,
Because Mother Nature doesn't **** up,
unlike what you might think,
Louisiana,
California,
Thailand,
Natural Disaster.

That's what we want to claim to be,
But we're products of society,
culture,
and we root for to children to stop,
to grow up,
realize your dreams aren't what they seem,
Backup plans.

I never had any,
Now I don't have a go to,
because I was told I would go nowhere,
with paper and pen,
Poetry.

I miss being a kid.

Hey you.

Yes you. Fourteen year old blonde girl with her eyes on the floor and the world in her hand.

Why are you looking around an empty room waiting for something beautiful to happen?

Don’t you know how brilliant you are?

You don’t have the perspective to know that one day you will rule the world.

You will fall in love again, and he still won’t love you back. Not the way you wanted him to.

You will glue yourself back together so many times that you’ll forget what it feels like to not have cracks in you.

You’ll be lonely more often than you’ll be in good company.

Music will begin to feel like oxygen instead of a vapid hobby.

Thicken your skin kiddo, but never be afraid to sob when Fields of Gold plays on the radio.

Look around the room every chance you get and listen to the sound a family makes.

Don’t let him take away the one thing you’ve ever been good at.

Go ahead. Curl up into your little corner of the world and cry for a bit. Nobody said it would be easy.

But stop for a second.

Stop running around like the world is ending.

Look in the mirror.

Really look.

Memorize the mascara tracks down your cheeks and the look in your eyes that says “There must be something better than this.”

Keep it in your back pocket when you’re out ruling the world.

So that one day, when a fourteen year old blonde girl with the world in the palm of her hand comes to you with tears in her big eyes.

You can say,

“Baby, don’t you know how brilliant you are?

Take a look around the room, and make something beautiful happen.”

My car rumbled
Outside your house
Last night

Searching for
The bedroom light
Through your curtain

Knowing your car
Was cold behind
The garage door

Unsure of why
I decided
To drop by

Perhaps I believed
You would feel me
Looking in

Maybe I thought
You were merely a dream
Nonexistent

Wondering if we
Really continued
To live separate lives

I was back
In Bloomington
Last night

Loudly playing
Your favorite
Rock rhyme

Swore I could smell
Your e-cig
From the driver's side

Maybe I stopped by
Bloomington
To beckon you

Thinking I was
A siren
Able to lure you

Perhaps I accomplished
Whatever I
Set out to

Sang my
Sweet song
Led you to doom

But I don't think my call
Seeped through
Your bedroom walls

Either I
Was too quiet
Or you were
Preoccupied