You can take away the physical, but not the emotional.

You only know you're tired when you've started running
Only know how cold you are when the covers are gone
How sad do you get when your friends aren't there?
Do you feel small around all the tall bodies and buildings?
It only occurred to me how much I loved you until you said
**Goodbye

its the afternoon and its the middle of winter
I stare out the window and it looks cold
cold, to me, has always had a physical appearance rather than a feeling
its even a thought
and as I sit here
alone
I think
I think its cold but I wouldn't dare leave my spot
Its warm in my house but cold in my body
I don't have to leave my spot to feel cold
I feel cold
I look cold
because cold, to me, has always had a physical appearance rather than a feeling

Don't be sad if your circle gets smaller.
The smaller the circle gets, the closer the sides are.

Day 1: Blithe
(bl-I-the); happy or joyous
"I'm sorry but I'm rather blithe right now. It was nice to meet you."
Day 7: Convivial
(kon-viv-ve-ul); friendly, lively, or enjoyable
"The room spikes from dull to absolutely convivial just from your precence, darling."
Day 15: Pulchritudinous
(puhl-kri-tood-n-uhs); extreme physical beauty
"You look absolutely pulchritudinous tonight."
Day 16: Love
(luhv); an intense feeling of deep affection
"I love you."
Day 30: Veridical
(vuh-rid-i-kuhl); truthful; veracious
"This isn't how it used to be, if i'm being completely veridical"
Day 45: Simulacrum
(sim-yuh-ley-crum); a slight, unreal, or superficial likeness
"You were just a simulacrum for real love!"
Day 49: Lugubrious
(luh-goo-bre-us); full of sorrow or sadness
"Will the lugubrious feelings ever stop?"
Day 50: goodbye
(good-bi); used to express good wishes when parting
"Goodbye..."

I thought I was stuck
somewhere between yes and no;
stop and go;
do and don't.
I stayed in the middle
surveying where I was.
I can see both ends of the spectrum shining towards me,
making the middle shine brighter than the two together.
Between two ends seemed like a better choice
than either the start or the finish.
At least the view is nice.
I thought I was stuck here
forever undecided because
choosing one thing means leaving the other
until I realized...
maybe I'm not stuck
maybe I just don't want to move
maybe I like where I am
and maybe this is even better than yes or no;
stop and go;
do and don't;
*At least the view is nice.

but it's worth a shot

I'm chasing a feeling
But it's running too fast
He's just candy temptation
He gets paid to love you, don't stress it
Don't hug, just touch
But if you throw a little more he might budge
If you think there's something there when you're the only two in the room
Well, I've got some news for you
There's not much that this boy won't do

Why am I here? I've got better things to do
But I still drive to the same place
It's not impulse that brought me here to you
I'm chasing a feeling
Gotta keep up the pace
Check the check-list
Everything done with?
Said I'm not gonna go back today but its 11:30 p.m.
Lights are dimming
How did I get in here?
I swear I didn't mean to meet you here
Yes, I know I saw you last week...
...and every night since that point
That's not the point
Let's get to the point

I'm chasing a feeling
But it's running too fast
Maybe it's love, maybe it's lust
Maybe I'm allergic to the pollen and dust
Maybe I'm wrong and I should probably leave
He's here every night
He gives everybody what they want
Not because they need it
But because they can have it, so they seek it
Is that why I'm here too?

Give them your love because you can
Turn your thoughts off, they don't belong here
Leave loyalty at the door and kick your inhibitions off at the welcome-mat
No one has any here
The front door changes you.

I had a best friend
the best of all my friends
until she stole what was mine
then it was the end
it really hurt
I made a new best friend
a better best friend than the last
until she left me alone,
on my own to fend
it really hurt
I found a boy
who might like me more than the last two
until he used me
and played me like a toy
it really hurt
when I pass them in the hallway,
we both stare at our feet
because we don't have anything to say
and hopefully we wont again meet
she knows it really hurt
**they all do

Reflections in broken mirrors
through watery eyes.
Maybe it's not the mirror that's broken.
If only I was able to get to the other side.
I'd see tears on a red face
and see pain and hurt and sadness.
There's no sound on the other side.
It's quiet.
The mirror isn't broken and neither are any of the people there.
They're all empty.
They can't help us from the other side.
They just watch.

Wait, what side am I on?

if I woke up and fell in love with
you more and more
each day, how
will I wake up
and have to just.... stop?

All the stuff is gone, tangible,
but the memories still stand in the corner like he once did
A room of love and hurt and laughter
Boxes hold belongings
and the walls hold in the voices and whispers of admiration
They bounce back and forth off the paper thinness that holds this place together
All the stuff is gone, tangible
The whole room is empty
yet it’s full and I can't box up memories

I wonder why he always looks at me like I'm the world.
He stares at me like he's the sky looking down on the world he reigns over.
He looks down at me and I look up at him; my cloud.
Something I quite cant get a hold of; my cloud, coming and going as he wants and I just watch him go, knowing he is so much more than a little earth-dweller like me could ever obtain.
He could have the world, he watches down on me like I'm just that, and I wonder if a little earth-dweller like me could ever give him a little piece of it.
I'd give him a little piece of the world, but he is my world and I'd never take a piece of him unless he let me have it.

It wasn't committed by knife, or battle axe, or saw
Yet the softest words cut the deepest and left it bleeding raw

It wasn't committed by pistol, or shotgun, or even a rifle
Yet bullets are often shaped like the sweetest words you can stifle

It wasn't committed with poison, and chemicals, and bleach
Yet it's the simplest words that taste like the worst kind of speech

It wasn't committed by natures course, or time, or heavens plan
No, this ****** was committed on my heart by a **lying man

She's a constellation among the stars and yet she wonders why she's alone
Her glimmering parts make up one hell of a beautiful whole
She looks across the night expanse at the other burning orbs
They look brighter than her and closer together, part of something
What she doesn't see is herself and how the other stars burn bright with jealousy at the beautifully crafted constellation that she is
Each star craves to be part of a constellation so they burn bright for her, for the cluster who doesn't know how she shines to them

I don't need a mirror
to see myself
with you

Most hate the feeling of being scared
because...why be scared
when there's an option not to?
You could be happy, laughing, smiling
so why would you want to be shaking, nervous, afraid?
I like scary movies
because for people like me
we're empty
any feeling is better than none
even if I'm shaking, nervous, afraid

And I know it would hurt,
but a writer needs inspiration
*and I need something to write about

I've got scars on my arms and legs
even one on my neck
they all hurt

There's a story I wear as a bracelet
its permanent, burnt into my skin
it hurt

I wear a story like a pair of pants
words in my back pockets and they're heavy
they hurt

I've even got a tale on my neck
its a choker necklace that's too tight
it hurts

Back seat of a car, happiness on my face, just coming from the city.
It's daytime; sunny and warm so I've got the window down.
My head partially sticks out as my hair flies all around and I can barely see.
As we pass the cemetery, I do see now because we are coming to a stop sign and the wind comes to a halt.
One woman sits by herself on a stone bench.
She is alone, but she is admiring the nice day, same as anyone else.
She stares at the sun before it gets too bright for her eyes and she looks back down again.
She is far away from me and I wish my vision was good enough to see her better.
She sits peacefully as she stares at the graves, maybe one in particular.
I wish I could see if she was crying or if she was holding it together.
As my car picks up speed, I watch her until my head can't turn to face her anymore.
I think about her for the next minute, wondering if she too thinks this is a beautiful day or if she despises this date in particular.
Different lives are occurring outside of our own that we are unaware of.
I'm unaware of what this woman is going through and she is unaware that she sparked this interest inside my head.
She is still unaware who I am and that she inspired this poem.
**Thank you ma'am. I hope you're doing okay.