I sent it
At three AM
On one of those nights
Where silence gets violent
And I'm alone in my head.

I told you about the
Tiny pink pills
And how
If I took eight
I would sleep forever.
I gushed that
They were hidden
Under the toothpaste slathered
Countertop
In my bathroom.

I told you I loved you
But that
You weren't enough to stop me anymore.

I did actually consider it.
It was one of those nights.
But at some point,
As I laid on top of my comforter
And shivered under the fan,
I realized that
You weren't going to wake up
And convince me out of it.

I also thought
About how my mom was
A light sleeper.
How the floorboards would sound like
Orchestras
And the cabinet
Would be the symbals
To her.

I fell asleep
Numb,
But naturally numb,
And woke up wondering
What you would say.

You didn't say anything.

We tight rope walk
down our double edged sword
we wage war like the Gods
atop Olympus
We cultivate life
like the farmer tends to his crops
We are that of
flesh
blood
heart
emotion
strength
weakness
grit
and steel
We crack the earth
with our footsteps
and call it industry
A species of slaves
who enslave each other
because it is all we know
dark times pass above us
like thunder clouds
but in moments
we produce unthinkable greatness
like forks of lightning
across the black canvas
of the night sky

i seldom remember
what i remembered
before I could remember

remember december
the snowdrifts, remember
you skated down memory lane

my memory failed me
my lifetime defeats me
forget about leaving alive

remember?

He is frozen in time,
At a place where everything moves slowly,
Snow flakes falling round his heart.
He doesn't move to stop the pattern,
Stuck between past and future
There is a place where it all makes sense,
Somewhere he lost himself.

A quiet, solemn voice passed over the fallen leaves,
creating an unusual high pitched whistle.
The sound could be heard from all over the land,
and it entranced many of the listeners.

At first, all that could be heard was a single pitch,
no variant could be made out.
Then a slow, intense melody could be made out.
It painted a picture of a farm somewhere in France.

The melodic etude's tempo soon raced with urgency.
The yelps of young children and women could be heard,
covered up with the melancholic sounds of gunfire
being gunned through the dreadful, gray air.

The deep drumming of the bass and low brass
signified sounds of heavy artillery colliding with the earthen ground.
The rapid succession of chords and key changes
slowed the scene down to almost a standstill.

And almost as fast as it had begun,
it ended with a somber, low pitched note.
The whistling from the leaves discontinued,
and the memories of World War II was lost.

Hey guys!

This isn't really a poem, more like a message to all of you. I've been on this site for a while now, and I've never felt liked my writing really meant anything until I started writing here. You guys have really encouraged and inspired me so much.

Anyways, in my language arts class we have this project.

We have to put together a book of poetry that represents us.  I would like to use you guys in it. You guys are the most talented poets I know,  and I would be honored to be able to use your poetry in my book. If you'd be okay with me using your poetry, please let me know! Part of the project is also to include a bio of the writer. So if I use your poem(s), I need a little short paragraph about you. What you like, what you do, things like that. So.. yeah, thats pretty much it. I am really excited to hear back from you!
Thanks a million,
MJ