her relationships always end in fire
it's nothing to admire
passion is a weak foundation for love.

it wears down easily and burns too quick
volatile personalities that should not mix
like a match and wood.

i have seen her way
dark feelings held at bay
great when good and awful when bad.

Beautiful fire can take away a breath
but I'd rather have a cold death
than a hot one.

our relationship is a bittersweet memory
beginning and middle sweet like honey
the end, suffocating like hazy smoke
now even the sweetest parts make me choke

my heart aches
when i think of your face
but only because of the could've beens.

what could have been if you'd liked me back
what could have been if we had dated
what could have been if you loved me.

i ache and mourn those could've beens
because my heart thinks they should've been
but they weren't.

Perhaps I will be a cynic
When I do not believe in his false intimacy
Her love for him like ecstasy
She is a child of but seventeen
Teen idle with low self-esteem
I am the voice of reason in this friendship
Full of hope that she need not jump ship
From a relationship too early sprung
Of quickly-gained feelings and false pretenses of love.

Perhaps I am a cynic
But I have seen love fail others constantly
Name my mother my brother and my friend for three
My head is full of romantic notions
But I have little time for a poorly brewed love potion
Love never lasts forever, does it?

Perhaps I was a cynic
I wondered if love could be true
When I look at you
I can believe it.

It should not hurt.
My throat should not burn so ardently
Eyes furiously watery
When I see you with her.

I know not of your intricacies
Of your family
Of your history
And yet my heart has claimed you
A person to whom I would stay true
If given the chance.

This pain is not logical.
I side with my brain over heart
Yet it overrides that part
When I think of your hair
The color of sand
The shape of your hand
Which would fit so perfectly over mine.

It should not hurt so
But I am not whole
My mind is confused
And my heart is in control.

sometimes my problems feel so big
like they'll just about swallow me up
but sitting among the sycamore trees
makes me feel like i'm good enough

i can tell the trees all my secrets
whisper them into the bark
the leaves and the branches won't tell on me
even after the forest gets dark

the forest is filled with magic
a quiet magic most cannot see
i hope that the power residing here
also has a home in me.

i miss the me i was last week
no, more than weeks
i miss when i was so happy i could barely speak
in my favorite town with my chosen family
i'll move on from memory, eventually.

i miss the me that had a plan
a future, a focus
it slipped through my fingers like sand
i'll figure it out, eventually
but right now i'm mourning what i never got to see.

i miss the me that had you
it's national girlfriend day
did you know that too?
i'm not a girlfriend anymore
i'm not your girlfriend anymore
seeing everyone's posts makes me feel a little sore.

i'll get over it, eventually.

hiding in the darkness of closed eyelids
on the brink of spilling off of my tongue
i was once as naive as those silly kids
but from errors come consequences.

i forgive myself, i think
desire for some semblance of relief.
but i am on the brink
i know not how to forget.

for once i wish my memory was not so tightly wound
like a coil to never be unbound
i wish to move on
but i am scared that my mistakes follow me.

i wish i understood
the physics of your smile
how forces of motion
push the corners up
against gravity.

if i knew
maybe i could produce such a smile
or at the very least
get to see light refracting
in your blue eyes.

i despise being pigeon-holed.
seeing myself through the circular looking glass
having one singular personality trait
based solely on my physicalities and class.

cute.
that's my descriptor
has been since I was a child
but I would walk miles to escape that word.

i am as multi-faceted as a kaleidoscope
i need no rope from another to pull myself
from the ashes of my failures

do not question my abilities because I have the eyes of a doe
or the body of woman.

i can move mountains with my hands and create worlds with my fingertips
hours of song can escape my lips
riddles and mathematic equations lay not in my hips
but in my mind.

i despise being pidgeon-holed
for my worth does not equate to my weight
and the space I'm allotted on this Earth does not count my appearance as a deciding factor
my strength as a human being does not relate to my gender
so you need not distract her
for she has goals ranging up to the sky
and down to the bottom of the sea
I am a woman and I will be free
of being pidgeon-holed.

growing out my bangs and my hair
so i can feel less aware
of the empty spot next to me
where you used to be

losing weight, lucky me
numbers i always wanted to see
at least i'll put space between you
and the me you knew

the new me in the mirror
she sees things a little clearer
without your fingerprints on her skin
almost out of the mess you left her in

If he is the Sun
I am a lizard on a desert rock
Basking in his glow
Will he bathe me always in his light
Warming me for life
Or will he leave me to an eternal night?

And if he is the Sun
Am I an Icarus?
If I get too close will he scald me
Or will he be merciful that god he
Will he let me fly beside him
He, the Sun, the most heavenly body

If he is the Sun
Perhaps I am the Moon
Recycling his light, his spark
Using it to cast my own into the night
Could the Sun love the Moon?
If he is the Sun, I hope he might

i want to know what it is to be
fully enamored with a person
to breathe them in completely
to be totally enveloped
in their being.

I thought you were the Sun
And I, Icarus
Your warmth burned so sweet
Till I became undone

You are so human
With failings and flaws
I failed to see
Blinded by your gaze on me

You were a false God
And I, your most devout worshiper
Sang your praises and thought you sang mine
Now I just mourn all my wasted time.