If you were ever to worry that no one would be there,
I would.

And even if you didn't, you've said it yourself, I'm pushy.
I'll be there whether you invite me or not.

But what always bothered me is that everything just always seemed different in our friendship.

Why is it different when we are together? Why do the regular old motions invoke different emotions?

My love for you is digital,
Resides within my phone...
To look back on our messages
Is to no more be alone.

pressed petals
stained with ink and memories;
he left.

Do you mean to tell me
That you never recieved the letter
That I sent?

This is life.

How we get though it

is how we will become

stronger

Not even a question anymore
Just wondering

Do the vibrations
That are concocted
From deep within the
Silk that nestles
In my esophagus

Do they reach
Your diamond implanted
Drums of sound
That can translate
Every woolen word
Into reality?

I can't believe it.
How could someone like you
Want to choose someone like me?!

What have I done
To corrupt your mind?
Poison. Enchantments?

Help me understand
What it is I've done to you
So that I can properly apologize
For compelling your so recently broken heart
To come and mesh with mine.

I've been broken so long
And it feels like you could fix me
I've wanted you since I met you
But why do I feel so guilty now.....

A tree,
It stands.

Ruler of its own universe woven through thickets of golden brown branches and emerald green leaflets.

Refuge for all and for none, offering solace from the cruel, hot sun.

Holding its arms in a triumphant stance, letting its leaves dance in the wind to their own tune of rustling and clapping.

A tree,
It feels.

It starts slowly at first- a slow seep, an unintelligible infection....

The glistening Mercury winds it's way through the veins that keep the being ruler of all and slowly infiltrates all the secret chambers hidden in knotholes centuries old.

Black like coal, white like fire, none can tell its appearance from anything but extraordinary and yet the tree does nothing. It waits.

A tree,
It wilts.

Ruler of the universe, it hands it's legacy off to the many saplings it has taught how to breathe from the grounds below it.

Refuge for none but itself, the emerald leaves lose their sheen and fall to the ground like a dancer who has twisted her appendage.

Reaching its arms towards the ground in a silent last prayer-last words- it caresses the faces of its children in the soil, giving a sweet silent goodbye.

A tree,
Crying tears of dripping silver onto its children below.

Then it is no more.

Mercury--evil--has won.

A stump.

But it's legacy lives on.

A sapling grows....and who knows.....the cycle begins again.

Give me the keys to your heart and let me ignite you.

Who's gonna drive you home tonight?

I don't drop things.

Not friends, names, or pasts.

Most importantly, memories.

Answer me.

Was it about me?

if petals droop too far
without sustenance
what harm will slicing them do
if it brings back their shine later?

you're the rarest emerald i've ever seen
but i prefer pearls

It's funny. They say with progression comes ease of life. However, this has not proved to be true.
Straight A's? Check. But a 97 on a test tanks my average since it's currently at 100.
Working out every day? Covered. But now that I've lost so much weight my clothes don't fit.
Internships? Got them. But the work they're taking leaves me exhausted and unable to maintain the idea of finding a job right now because I haven't the time.

Success is great. But don't ever let them tell you that there isn't a bad side. Even relatively.

I just want an 85 to feel like a victory again, one day of working out to be enough to go out and get ice cream for, to be able to make money for myself.

But god, why does swimming feel like drowning?

I am who you long to see
Yet who you will never cease to be

I am what you envy most
But I am more dead than a ghost

I am little, small and weak
Yet I do more, much more than speak

In my eyes I hold the key
But to get it, you must first unsee

For days of cold when lights grow dim
I am yours- I am him.

I don't like being left
under the bed
no thoughts
no memories
no love

...not a drop....

It's dusty down here.

But there is that moment.

You know, when feet come stomping into the room like a herd of elephants- there are only two- and the noise is so deafening until they stop in front of the table. The table that holds the radio.

Then the silence.
Oh, the silence is even worse.

But then....the fingers reach up like the ****** down in hell and press the triangular button that speaks of hope and peace.

They press play.

And I am no longer dust.

The feet skip around the bed, dancing to the beat and screaming the lyrics until they are worn with love.

The air picks me up, and I am no longer dust.

I, too, can dance.

If we were truly together
would it feel like all the roses
you ever gave me in these past six months
were so dusty that if you sighed a single breath as
you do every morning when you wake and I'm not there-
would it feel like that dust would fly higher than you ever had
into a vortex, a cyclone, a twister that devoured all you are and ever were?

Press'd as drying flowers be
with saturation's sound,
be livelier than ever he
did dance or jump or bound.

Forc'd as oft as running bears
that heft their berry claim,
do love and run with anon scares
and seek the pow'r to maim.

You're not displaying sentiments of sadness and deepened emotion simply because you wish that I, through hearing them, may feel a sense of calm and clarity over what has been done.
No.
You're speaking this ******* so that you feel less guilty, that you lessen the pain on yourself, knowing that you've said I'm sorry to the person who calls themself victim.
You ease your conscience whichever way you see fit.
And I'll ease mine.

Darling?

Darling?

Darling?

I love you, I swear it.
I'm not upset, I swear it.
I'm safe, I swear it.

I'm better- can you believe that?

We say I love you over the phone in an echoing tone
Over and over and over again.

It is only now that I realize it's for each and every day we cannot talk, so that not a day goes by without being filled with one. And I smile at this realization.

And I hope you do too. You're beautiful with a smile and without.

But seeing that smile gives me so much hope, angel.

And I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I'm feeling like a hole in the wall
empty but patchable
ripped yet repairable
dead.

There's so much to a name
-would a rose by any other smell as sweet?-
but lately I wonder
about mine.

What does it mean?
And more importantly,
who is she?

I swear, I am more myself yesterday than today's current phase, but I cant remember yesterday to be able to tell myself how to feel alive again.
I don't feel dead.
I just don't feel me.

But who even
am I?

*Hello, I'm Nobody. Who are you?

they
d i  s   p    e     r      s       e
like paint dropped into a glass
of melted ice
and try to enjoin once again
but are u n a b l e

they
tolerate
what they think they deserve
which isn't much
and push to give more
of themselves away

they
plop
like coins into a fountain
only asking for a wish
but not expecting one
in return

she was starstruck
until the black hole consumed her

What does it mean exactly?
Well, I'll tell you.

It is the quickening of my breath when we hug
The whisper of your words in my ear
Your scent that clings to the shoulders of my shirts
The echo of your voice bouncing in my ears
The feel of your arms
The memories of your sweetness
The joys of the future yet to come.

That is what you mean to me.

I'm enamored.
Are you?

I'm not saying I can make you happy.

But I can try.

Why are Sleep and I no longer friends?

We used to spend so much time together, used to be so close, wasting hours in idle chatter about meaningless and skewed ideas and figments of our imaginations.

But now, when I come knocking at her door, there is no response. It's like she's ****** at me, for reasons I can't understand. But it's not unlike her to leave me alone to the tortures of my Mind when I need her most.

While I lay and wait to hear from Sleep, Mind weasels his way into my conciousness, sitting down and pretending to feel sorry for the thoughts he has created within me.

And that's where it all starts.

Example; last night.

Remember? Hannah, do you remember?

Do you remember when you had it all within your grasp and you said NO to spare someone else's feelings...but didn't spare your own?

Do you recall the two hours of waiting between words that would make the suicidal feelings within me rise from a puddle to a tsunami?

Do you recollect the pulse that assaulted your eardrums as you tried to block me out, but couldn't?

Do you?

He taunts me thus until an ungodly hour until he finally allows Sleep to enter, and I am too tired to socialize with her.*

Someone, please tell me why.

Why does my mind hate me, why do I shake more than smile, why do I cry more than laugh...

And why can't I ever get it right? Why do I always hurt everyone I know? Why can't I make myself as happy as I wish I could by making others?

And God, why can't I have just one little sliver of happiness? For just an hour? A minute? A nanosecond?

How little do I deserve?

I wish I had a one and only.
Like, the one and only to rule all one and only's.
A best friend. Someone to love.
Someone to tell everything to,
Someone to hold and who will hold me.
I wish I may, I wish I might.

I wish I had the gift of inclusion.
Like, inclusion into all groups and areas ever.
A free entry card. An easy pass.
Somewhere to call home,
Somewhere to feel free to be me.
I wish I may, I wish I might.

I wish I had the heart they say I do.
Like, the heart to trump all hearts.
A caring heart. A selfless heart.
Some way to stop hurting,
Some way to stop thinking.
I wish I may, I wish I might.

My mind
Likes to deceive me

I find someone
truly someone

And they're shattered from me
by a gas smaller than I can see

Shattered into a reality
I've been avoiding my whole life

Dear young, hopeless Cherie
How shall I hope to survive?

How did I not realize?





How was it not clear?




If we dwell on the past, we repeat the past.
If we just sit in silence, the car radio isn't going to turn back on.




We have to reach a hand out to fix it, to help the music blare, to make sure it doesn't fade.
Within ourselves.


There is none who can fix a society- it takes a village to raise a child, so doesn't it fit?- but we can all fix ourselves.

Together.



We each have our own bubble. Though we can push each other's into unwanted territory, no one can pop our bubbles but ourselves.


I'm not about to let my bubble or anyone else's pop over the past.


Perhaps ours have to float a little farther from each other's than we would have liked. We can still wave hi from afar, as we are carried on different tempos through our journeys of life.


We cannot learn from the past if we are still living it.



We can only inflate our bubbles with music.



And never let it fade.

I'm alright.
quick breath
Really, I'm all good.
quicker breath
I am fine, right...?
quickest breath

I'm a ****.
shoulders hunch
I'm a leech.
thoughts bunch
I'm a child.
head crunch

I'm so tired.
slow breath
I need sleep, a life, friends.
slower breath
I'm alright.
*quick breath

It's so easy.
Press me.
Just one bit of pressure, and the past, the words, the memories, are all deleted.
Even if it's only temporary.
Why doesn't life have a backspace button?
Why can't I erase those terrible moments from my mind, why must they come up at moments when they will affect me in the worst possible way?
Can't I erase them?
Just one?
ERASING isn't the act of cowardice towards what you've done in the past.
Really, it isn't.
ERASING is about strength.
Knowing you have to forgive before you can forget.
Using all your willpower to wipe the slate clean, make yourself new.
ERASING can be powerful.
But sometimes, I find, it's easier to erase other people
Rather than myself.

our friendship is always there
prone to love and prone to tear
but our friendship is always there
and time is not eternal.

Loving arms last forever
Except when they don’t…
We’ll always stay together
Except when you won’t…

Our love is a river
That never runs dry
Except when we wither
And aridly die.
Our faith is the wind
That boosts us high
Except when we spiral
Down from the sky.

To stay with you
Is my only goal
Except when you break
This young heart you stole.
I like to think life is mine alone,
That I have grasped it, EXCEPT
You’re gone, nowhere to be found
So vicious tears I’ve wept.

When you wish for more
More than you're given
More than you'll ever get...

When you dare to contemplate a life with more
You're definitely sure
To drown.

Now I feel guilty.

I'm having trouble wording everything right now, I'm sorry.

No, YOU'RE my life.

There's just so much...so much else people expect from me.

My parents, my friends, my teachers, colleges.

Juggling it will be hard....and I want to make sure you get the attention you deserve.

And I'm just saying, it won't be easy.

*Can't promise things won't be broken, but I swear that I'll never leave.

always is there one stuck in my eye
distorting my vision
causing pain
requiring the time for removal
but by the time i've eradicated it
-it sometimes takes ages-
there's another to take its place
why is there an endless supply?

Can't keep my eyes from melting
Those tears that they've been smelting
Because loneliness is pelting
Poor young, forsaken me

Can't keep my eyes from wondering
Why silence is now thundering
Between us and its sundering
Poor young forsaken me

Can't keep my eyes from missing
Those lips that I've been kissing
But now they keep on enlisting
Poor young forsaken me

Enlisting me to cry and
Enlisting me to try

Because if he's not here beside me
Then I might as well have
Died.

the orbs that haunt
Your very being
And will hunt your soul
In the recesses of your dream land
Until they open
And close
Silently and swiftly
And you are once more captive

Trying to write a fable
really questions who you are.

How can I write a story based on morals
That I have not yet mastered myself?

What to write.
Be honest.
Wear your seatbelt.
Elbows off the table.
Honor your parents, watch your sister carefully,
practice piano for an hour a day, go to church every sunday.

Morals are really just should's.

You should take the garbage out.
You should always obey your elders.
You should only speak when spoken to.
You should.

Oh, should I now?

It is the deeper stuff in life
that defies our understanding
and can turn the coldest of days
into a fable day.

Morals and shoulds.
Do's and don't's.

Tell me, what are your morals?
Are they questionable?
Are they repostable?

And most importantly......
are they realistic?

Write me a fable.

I basically feel single.

Perpetually.

Who knew.

Hold on to these swiftly wisping hands, the fading fingertips
Don't let them go.

Keep a grip on these crying eyes, this swimming mind
Don't let them sink.

For fear to be immortalized
takes time, yet within my time
lives blaze and wish I'd run and hide
but frozen feet shan't climb.

When interactions numb the heart
and stiff water traps the soul,
thine own protections thou shalt start
with thy unprotected soul.

They are so fleeting,
You know, the memories.
The ones of him as we talked about our lives, moaned about homework, philosophized about our futures.
The ones of him smiling as we sat in the same room for the first time, not knowing that the two of us were about to be in for the biggest fall of our lives.
It was a fall. Two, actually.
I fell for him.
He fell for me.
In the cold of the fall, we both fell.
The feelings seem fleeting; but yet we forget---
There is always a key to that file cabinet in the back of my brain, as there is one to his. There will always be a way to revive what seems stretched through limited contact, through busy times, through musicals and businesses.
There will always be time.
And there will always be us.

Falling like the rain
Shattered shards of glass
Wiping 'way the pain
Broken by the class.

Steaming like the fire
Stoked by your friends
That dims when need is dire
And leaves you at the end.

It's so funny how things you once think
will be your demise if you so much as think
Because then they'll be gone in just one moment
And you'll be subject to torment.

So how is it that you are able
to connect every twisted cable
within me like a piece of art
and heal, somehow, my broken heart?

It is a truth universally known
That love can turn a mind to stone,
prone to forget and to move away
from those who'd make your heart ok...

So feel me, love me, hold my hand
Help my heart begin to stand
Up to the feelings that it misses
and surrender itself up to your kisses.

Why can't I find the words
To fight for what
I want

Or even say it right?

Because it isn't a "what".

It's a "who".

I had you convinced.

And if you don't admit it,
You're kidding yourself.

I want to manipulate feelings, he says

I want to make them feel things, to make them cry, to make them die*, he says

He wants to make scenes in front of fire hydrants and dance to the sound of wild hoofbeats

He wants to make them cry, in awe of the beauty screened before them, the sunset awash in an inhuman glow

He wants to make them die inside as the heroine is killed, but dramatically makes her comeback all through the means of a tilted lens

He wants to make them feel things

And he, of all people, alone, has the power.