Words fall asleep on my tongue
Too tired to reach the edge of my lips
So they wake up and head back to my beating heart

I sit here hoping you don’t feel my silence
Because if you happen to be listening
Then I am afraid of what I might tell you

Poems aren't written,
they're found,
Somewhere in your head the words are waiting,
They're sprawled across the floor,
You just need to pick them up,
Make a path with them,
Let your path guide observers,
And if you can't write,
Walk down somebody's else's path first,

I told you I would do anything for you, love
I would climb mountains
I would cross oceans
just to see a smile on your face
Because isn't that what love is

So you asked me for one thing
to be patient
oh how it would be easier to climb a mountain
patience is key
but patience is not something I have the key to

I will do my best to be what you need me to be
please just remember
I am human too
I make mistakes
that sometimes hurt you

Even though you linger
Through my thoughts
I know now,
Finally—
that it is over.
The black and blue XNY watch you bought
Has stopped ticking,
It has died—
Our time is up,
Wont you run along now?
It seems I was never
Worth the ink and paper anyway.

Even though you linger
Through my thoughts
I know now,
Finally—
That it is over.
The Olivetta's ink ribbons
Have dried up
And no longer will those keys strike,
Embedding your ink onto paper.
Our time is up,
Wont you run along now?
It seems you were never
Worth the time of day anyway.

I know now,
Finally—
That it is over.
Run along now,
Run along and don’t look back
I was never worth your time anyway.

The heartbreaking parts
To Hemingway
Are finishing all his books

Does my soul shine with light
Or does it hide deep in the night

My fear ever growing
With my mind not knowing

What will my judges say
Was I night or was I day

Can my mark of death be reversed
Or am I doomed to die cursed

Can I ever be truly saved
If to the darkness I'm enslaved.

I've been sitting here so long i cant tell the difference between ribcages and coffee tables.
And the blood vessels in my eyes are starting to look like my family tree.
Made friends with my shadow that only comes out in the night time and with the dusty books I'll never read because I can't invest myself in things that have a certain end.
I can't let things end because that means the ones who got away have won. And even my shadow has now left me too. My hands turn calloused trying to hold on to ink cartridge people who have run out of time.
Our hands intertwine as if we were a clock, always on the same hour but never on the same page.
Of these books I can never read.
I swallow everything including my pride.
How long have you been afraid?
And why can you read palms of strangers you can't let go but you can't read those ******* books in your closet?
And why can you clean out your junk drawer but you can't wake up with clear conscious?
Why are you blowing your whistle when your lovers have already died?
Your childhood isn't slipping away stop clenching your fists.
Where does lucid dreaming really take you when you can't see straight?
Why won't you stop shaking?
You're afraid that these stories will rewrite your own because you could never get it right the first time around.
If they could get it right your skin wouldn't be stained with regret and emotion
Who's scratching at the walls?
Who's crawling in the attic?
Who's scratching at the surface of this panic?
Who the **** is knocking on your front door and why can't you let anyone in even when you send them an invitation?
Step right up
Guess my fate
Why does it even matter what those books have to say?
And why could I never give myself a break?
Hiding under my covers when my parents turned into earthquakes
Those stories don't matter
The only one that does
Was Christmas Day 2010
When everyone around me finally gave up.

It's not that I'm not
pretty,
that's beside the
point:

My eyes are seen before my
words
My body before my
contributions
My beauty before my
art

I am more than just an
ornament
and Christmas lights for
eyes.