I'm the friction between your silk sheets
and the picture you hang on your eyelids
I'm the breath that fogs up your bathroom mirror
and the life that you left behind

I'm all the wonders that you bury
beneath you bed to rust along with
the tired Narnian lions
and Middle Earth'bound hobbits

All your fairy tales are over
and as you descend over her
for the final time
and are close- so close-
You realize

Your fairytale
is coming
to an end

A time to start pondering new wishes
and how close you know you can get
to them before the hours chase you
back to the cot where you started

"Don't steal my motif!"
cried the Indian chief
with a feather tucked into his hair.

"It's mine to command,"
said he, waving his hands,
in discomfiture and in despair.

"The chirping is mine,"
he screeched like an anserine,
stomping his leather-clad feet.

"So leave me my birds,"
the chief then concurred
and danced to his Indian beat.

You don't even know who you are
because you're someone
entirely different
to me

You're a montage
of music and life
experience that
echoes my own
in a slightly
scary way

If I met you
In ways contrary
to our previous meeting
I believe that my heart would overdrive
and catapult me into a serious case of
cardiac arrest that only gazing into your eyes
would even have the possibility of being able to cure

Do you know who you are?
Yes you, reading this,
do you have a clue?

Mr. Mystery...
I'm ready for you.

the memories in the back of my mind
rattle their cages restlessly
but I won't let them escape

i just want my eyelashes against your cheeks.

If I pressed you against a wall
and stole the words
from inside your lips

would you hate me
eternally

If I can tear up at simple words you create
To resemble the shape of my lips
I shudder to think of
What heading your voice
Would do to me....

You choose me?
I'll admit, I'm speechless.
All the pentameter in my head
Is twisted in a labyrinth of speed limit signs
And pause buttons.
Why me?

I'll keep asking
And asking
And asking
For months, years, decades.

For I cannot wrap my limited conciousness
Around the fact
That my feelings are
Returned.

Do you blame me?
If I hadn't tried to help you
You might still be taken.
It wasn't my purpose for you to fall for me
All I wanted was to help out
A fellow feeling......
.....and now I find myself falling,
Falling,
Falling
        D
              O
             ­        W
                             N

I wonder what's for dinner.
I loved that steak we had the other night.
Well, kinda loved. I don't eat much anymore.
Maybe I can finally fit into those Guess jeans since I've lost so much weight.
I mean, it IS picture day tomorrow.
Oh God, what am I going to do with my hair?
I'll curl the top maybe.
She said it looked nice the day I did that.

Ah, can't think about her/it/that.

Do I have any homework left?
I don't think I do....
My planner only lists things due Thursday.
That reminds me, I have to come in early Thursday,
I have to meet with a teacher on the third floor.
That's close to her locker.
Maybe I could say hi.

No, no, no. Concentrate.

Okay, so outfit for tomorrow!
Picture day always comes around so fast.
So I'll wear those jeans- they fit now-
and maybe that white top.
Does it look good?
Maybe I should ask someone.
Her opinion matters the most to me.
What would she think?

No, I'm not going to bother her.

I'm so tired.
Life is just tugging and tugging at me.
I don't even feel like me anymore sometimes.
But I feel more than like myself when I'm around her.
I feel alive.

So just this once, I'll let myself dwell on her a bit.

*It's crazy that it only takes one person to make me feel truly alive.
And that person isn't me.

One day, I'll take off this makeup.

But until then, it's up to you to see through it.

Just when I've figured out the beat that life is tapping out in front of me
The key changes

Everyone thinks they can name me.

Hannah.

Daughter, sister, student.

Niece, neighbor, friend.

But my name, my name, hasn't been foretold
and never will
because my name
is Nobody.

What's yours?

I hate feeling like I'm dropping bombs.
And it's always on someone who doesn't deserve them.

You never asked for me to confuse you or to make you wonder how to put your feelings into words.

And Im so sorry I would ever even deign to pressure you.

Don't associate with me.
I'm toxic.

Contract;

In order for this business relationship to be beneficial to both parties, here is what to expect, and what I'll expect in return.

I expect you to give me attention, especially when I plead that I don't need it. I expect sweet messages sent at random that don't hold any relevancy to what we're experiencing. I expect truth, loyalty, and respect. I expect your time.

In return, you can expect being loved until you wish you had never met me in the first place, being attentively looked after but not to the point of clinginess. You'll be privy to poems, songs, and ideas penned about you frequently, and you'll never be alone. Your heart will be mine to guard and to keep not as my own but as ours. And know this; I will never leave.

Terms for this agreement are thus; time will be made for the other party. I will not have to experience a breakup over the phone because you won't make time to see me after six months of what I thought was love. We won't have to make excuses about how we're still hanging in there; if things don't work, they don't work.

And finally, we must agree to be mutually exclusive.

Under these conditions- which are for the most part immobile but are open to suggestion- and these conditions only will this business agreement be not only agreed upon but maintained. Any breach of this contract will result in...well.

Term to end: hopefully, never.

Just sign the dotted line, here.

____________X

she follows me everywhere
does what I do
says what I say
brews what I brew

she wears what I wear
and eats what I eat
plays what I play
and meets who I meet

she cries when I cry
and talks how I talk
she drinks what I drink
and walks where I walk

but to think what i think
is not her cup of tea
her name is depression
and her target is me

not too old
only slightly worn
smells of plumeria

so why am I so uncomfortable in it?

How didn't I get here is the real question.
How didn't I become the person I am?
How didn't I lay down my life for you?
And how haven't I given up yet?

I've never been in love*
But I had thought that I could learn

You didn't understand, did you?

My jaded lips cannot speak quicksilver like they used to.
Broken hearts are much better at writing.

I meant falling, falling,
Into the light that your eyes capture
When you read my raw emotions
Falling into an emotion I swear I thought had died in me
Falling for a figment that, for all I know, could vanish any moment.

Understand?

We're all nobodies, the lot of us,
trying to hold on, to brush off all the rust.
Silent screams, empty stares
Losing hope in all we've tried to trust.

We are invisible
Broken skin and broken hearts
hoping someday someone sees us
Nobodies
Nothing to share and nothing to prove
everything to shoot and nothing to lose
All alone with our thoughts and our knives,
will no one become someone?
It's taking over our lives.

We're all no ones, the lot of us,
living in a world we can't control.
Holding in, holding back
Hearts broken, battered, beaten, black as coal.

Maybe if we united
Our burdens could one day be light
but this inferno has never ignited
and we don't feel strong enough to fight

We are invisible
Broken skin and broken hearts
hoping someday someone sees us
Nobodies
Nothing to share and nothing to prove
everything to shoot and nothing to lose
All alone with our thoughts and our knives,
will no one become someone?
It's taking over our lives.

We're all nobodies, no ones, the lot of us.

Who are you?

We all go by the surname no one

There are so many of us!

So why are we all so alone?

White fences, blue skies,
and laughs.

So many laughs.

Popcorn, angels,
and Korean.

So much Korean.

They say living in the past can destroy you, that dwelling on what you've lost can shred your very being.

But what if it's a good past?

We learn from history so that it doesn't repeat itself.
But we also learn how to relive the good moments.

I'm not afraid
Not now
Not ever
Yet

She's not a cowboy
So I can't call her my partner
But what can I call her
When all we feel like
Is machines

Twisted gears and mangled fears
Push up on us faded years
And hopefully there'll be no tears
When the truth breaks out
For a final
Last
Hurrah

I'm sorry, no I'm not sorry*

I'll never ever apologize
For loving you
As much as I did
Even though I don't anymore

Who can bedrudge
My having
Human feelings?

No one.

Shouldn't it hurt
more than it does?
It almost feels as if nothing has changed...

Bye.
I'll miss you
and I love you
-obviously-
but the lack in communication this brings
was already here
has been here
for months now...

I'd like to feel something, please.
May I have a plate of happiness to start, extra sentiment on the side?
And after that, perhaps a steaming mug of anger, completed with some frothing frustration to top it off.
And for dessert, well, I suppose I don't really get to choose; a cold bowl of depression will end the meal..and back to numb, I'll be.
Until it starts all over again.

As I lay sleeping
my heart runs its course
and in days of passing
will fly like a horse.

But knowing not its loss
of life through its' thoughts,
knowing not it's embossed
wherever it trots,

My mind and heart
will surely live unafraid
for numbness is art
and has no need for aid.

An ode to not being alone
to having someone there
to tell your deepest darkest
thoughts that emanate from
the innermost abyss of your
soul sainted being.

They can reach their fingers
like filtering lights through
the crevices of what's left
of the scattered rubble that
used to live in my mind
and be able to understand
who I am and what I am.

Thanks to them, I'm not
alone, nor will I ever be
simply because I know
that as long as they have
eyes and as long as they
can read, I'll always
be heard, always

Why do you darken my door once again?
What is it I've done
to deserve
this
e m  p   t    y    
s      p       a        c         e          ?

To spite you,
I'll welcome you.

To scold you,
I'll embrace your cold.

shiver, shiver

Here you come again,
lancing at my dreams,
my hopes,
my visions,
all of which I want to capture on paper,
but all of which you turn out
like horses from a stable
into the wilderness beyond
the reach of my pen.

Desperate.
It is not your namesake, no;
neither is it mine.

It does not belong to the man who searches for wisdom,
to the girl who bleeds her fingers on typewriter keys.

O, desperation, make me a statue
that others may look upon my emptiness
and feel
whole.

When rain hits my skin
that's already drenched in self loathing

I feel less like myself and more
like the girl I wish I was

loved and adored and simply covered
in warm wet kisses

maybe I just need to fall in love
with a real rainstorm

instead of the ones that fall
from the depths of my eyes

how could thy beauty
with effervesce and grace
possibly destroy the thoughts
have i for that warm face?

how terrified the pigeons be
when spikes their nests impale,
but love, at once, they do impart
instead of bringing bale.

In thine own garden lives thy key
to unwarranted blessings;
yet chart thy days and scour thy nights
for skeins of love's great testings.

For yon and hither lives do mingle,
twain they do traverse,
but forget, do not their minds of iron;
twas the blessing that baned the curse.

It wasn't your fault, so don't act like it was.
It isn't your problem, so don't act like it is.

And I'm not yours anymore...but don't automatically assume I hate you.

Old ways, schmold ways....

You forget yourself, darling.

I know not of your ways, do you remember those five days? And then silence?

I don't know well enough to know old  as I should when it applies to you.

They buried thee in roses,
of a soft and lilting hue,
of petals soft and trimmings long,
and virtue pure and true.

Thy faces bore the markings
of a girl buried in rock,
the 'witching cause of scorching pasts
and thoughts that led to shock.

Far be it from the minds of old
to push the past down yon,
to wish away the learnèd pulse
that rules your life begone.

So treasurèd be love itself,
the will to live be strong,
'tis hard enough to kiss the weeds
when they've torn up your song.

Another day older, another day bolder.
But they never mentioned
it'd be this much colder.

We're only getting older
and the air's just getting colder,
but we march shoulder to shoulder
into what our lives may bring.

We're only getting younger,
with new, incessant hunger;
and now we start to wonder
of what our lives may bring.

Once, in the ashen groves, where my heart once lay.
Once, on the faint outline of a thunderstorm that smells of electricity and bristles with indignation.
Once, inside the pulsating walls that are the safeguard to my heart.
Once.
And then no more.

Maybe he will finally understand
Why saying I Love You
Took me five months

One day I'll understand this feeling
I'm alone in a room of my family, but I'm not alone.

I have myself, don't I?
I'm always there for me, aren't I?

I ask myself this on a daily basis when my friends seem to care more about me than I do myself.

Once I'm gone, maybe things will change.

"she needs something stronger than that..."
from psychiatrist to psychiatrist.

"it's from your side of the family..."
from parent to parent.

"Remember me?"*
from my mind.

I guess I'm just awkward.
They're always taken, aren't they?
Taken or uninterested.

And I always end up hurt even if it's not their intention.
Why?

I'm just too much
For anyone to love.

And that's only because
I'm so ready to love someone
So ready
But every time I find
Him or her
Each time I think
That I've found
THE one

They're taken.
Taken or uninterested.

Maybe you weren't skinny enough.
Maybe you talked too much.
Maybe you wore too much perfume.

Maybe you were never home on time, were a lousy cook, never made the bed, and liked ***** a little too much.

Maybe you weren't eloquent or quick enough, maybe you didn't have the willpower to stand up for yourself.

Or-did you ever consider-?

Maybe you were too perfect.

I can't believe you didn't stay.
Don't you miss the body
You never touched?

Perhaps there was a reason.

A single outcast
Blown into the cold pushiness of a stranger foe
Leaves in the fresh snow