When are you coming back?

Before it's too late,


                                                         ­  because nothing's worse than
                                                            ­                                                  too
                                                                ­                                                     late.

I wrote a poem of love.
I wrote of you. I tried. But the words would not come.
I am not a poet.
This is not my poem of love.
Rather words written and meanings lost.
You are my poem of love.
I write you with every breath.

You* think you're boring.
I* think you're the most exciting person in the world.
You think you're ugly.
I think you're the most gorgeous person on the planet.
You think you're stupid.
I think you're a genius.
You think you have flaws.
I think you're more perfect than anything I've ever seen.
You think you're not good enough.
I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.
No matter what you think, I'll always think you're amazing.

i am less than human.
i am a creature that breathes just as they do,
but i am less than them.

i love to believe that i'd fit in
and be a real human some day,
but the little scars on my wrists and legs
move up and become more visible,
screaming
     "here i am"
     "come see"
     "look at how well i can hate"

i am less than human,
where i am a museum of
lazy little razors.

i overheard someone describe me today
an ugly word
a guilty word
****
they think they can define me by a couple bad nights
with this word
this *****, disgusting word
****
i thought i could trust
thought word wouldn't spread
until the word on everyone's lips was
****
people who i thought cared
who know me better than this
to realize i'm not just some
****
what i don't understand is
why everyone has the time to talk
about what ***** have been between my legs
yet they don't have time to learn
the thoughts between my ears
or the hurt between my ribs

I think you are so pretty
No I'm not saying that to get your number
And to slither down your pants
So I could feel loved for a night

I just want to let you know
That Photoshop the is poison to the image called your heart
Super models in magazines have it all wrong,
No matter how much you touch it up
I can still see that girl at the senior prom
Waiting on the door step
Waiting for the object called man
Because all of the movies teach you that you can live without one

I know you are an angel,
Drifting through life
Like dandelions drifting through the Colorado air.
Somehow without anyone constantly reminding you
That your parents telling you that you are a princess
Isn't just an empty complement
It is their hearts having a waltz with yours
Trying to forget the rusty anchors that are holding the real you in check.
You keep forgetting to let it go.

Let it go
Let it go like the cigarette burns
That swell your personality into madness
It drives you to the point
Where you see what the bullies at school call you

Ugly
Ugly is written in five languages is still called ugly
But you can't see that ugly is just a word.

I'm not saying that you should be women that don't need no men
Because no one likes those people
I'm saying that I'll be waiting for you,
When you want someone to hold your hand
While you watch romantic comedy
Or when you want someone to just hold you
I will be that prince charming that comes to the rescue
Even if you are that girl that is sitting on that porch.