knew he was there when the

ornaments vibrated.



looked down the garden,

saw him. we have waited

half a year, and now the forecast

is bad. he said.



i was filming john and mary

for a friend. it is his title.



this verse is named,

mary and john.



sbm.

I wrote this poem because you never did

you were my friend and I loved you for everything you were
the tears you cried because you were insecure, not beautiful enough
the smiles you smiled because you could even enjoy the little things in life
the fights we had because we were always oh so stubborn..

we always found a way back to each other, that was our friendship
it was like a mountain and believe me at one point we did reach the top
but also at that point we were starting to fall down and we fell hard..

you were the one who always cared about me even when I didn't
but you also were the one who always was jealous at the things I had
most times because of me you never felt good enough that must hurt..
and I know I made some bad decisions and you didn't deserve my choices

but I wont ever forgive you for stabbing me, our friendship in the back
for leaving me when I needed you the most all because you were scared

she always was afraid, never had the guts to chase her own dreams
always lived up to the expectations from her mother, she was weak

you dropped out of school and started to gain weight, we could see
we drank more alcohol and let go of the stress and anger we felt..

both we had ways to deal with our problems, this was the end my dear

and I can still see you dancing in my room singing all the lyrics wrong
and I can still see you laying down in the grass counting the stars
and I can still hear you say how you would never leave me alone....

so this friendship was broken and so was a piece of my heart...
I hate you believe me I do but still you have my favorite memories..

actually
*******
im not sorry
*******
*******
*******

each day , each day.



a boy told me there is something

different each day.



i speak of the back lane, the

memory, a ritual as paper

and string, sounds like a

simple thing. yet it has



been different each day.



shall i write of it, or simply

take photographs?



sbm.

I remember the day you came into school with fresh slits on your wrists

You had written your world into your own flesh and skin.

Those lines created the pages by which I used to write down our story.

Those cuts displayed every flaw our relationship ever endured.


And I will always remember the day you kissed me

Telling me, begging me not to worry about you.

Telling me the drawings of blood were "nothing"

Telling me you loved me.


To this day, I am left overflowing with questions.

Did it hurt?

Did it make you feel free?

Did it make you feel alive?

Did it make you feel?

But more than anything, I want to know why you chose me.



And my god, I wish this was some poetic analogy for something beautifully tragic.

I wish this was some secret I was too afraid to utter.

But it's not.

And I wish that I had never seen such a horrific sight

Because those scars were not beautiful to me.

They weren't something to be romanticized

They weren't something to be loved.

Because every inch of your punctured skin was a nightmare for me.

I relive that moment every day of my life.

That image forever trapped within the confines of my skull.


And I will always remember the day you left me.

Again and again we fell together.

I held my pain in so deep it created canyons in the breaks on my heart.

But you.

You wore your pain like a badge of honor

You paraded your scars like they were trophies

But they were more than that.

They were a scare tactic that was suffocating me

A plot to force out every ounce of my love for you

A way to blackmail me into staying with you.




And my god I loved you.

And I could have loved you until the day I died.





But I couldn't see past it.

I Couldn't see past the traumatic illustration set before me

past the illustration that stopped my heart beating in my chest.



And I will never forget the day you walked up to me and showed me a display

Of my initials carved into the skin of your forearm.

I want to be your 911 and your favourite childhood blanket and I want to be your goodnight instead of your goodbye.
I want to be your favorite pair of shoes and the air beside you so that I'm always next to you and I know you're comfortable.  
I want to be my parents' "I knew she could do it" instead of their "she's not trying hard enough."
I want to be my friends' safety net and not their other 24hour emergency hotline-dial-me-when-you-need-me. I am not temporary.
I want to be a girl who smiles because the world engraved laugh lines in her gentle face and not a happy pill trapped mistake.

But I will never be those things.
I will never be those things because, in your eyes I will be the last cigarette in every pack that smells and tastes so good, but hurts your chest in the most unforgivable way.
But I will never be, for you.

If you're keeping watch,
then I'll trade you shifts now.
I've been awake for hours. Almost light out.
Sleep is the distant, departed pal who
                                   never comes around.
'Cuz I've got a skull
that's filled up with dead ends,
false starts and last tries and lost friends.
I'll be awake so I guess it's useless
                                    standing guard for me.

Who's standing guard for me?

Ran out of cards to play.
Folded at the table
          this apartment stays small.
The ceiling's falling in
                                              again;
all that I can say is that
           it's alright
   though these nights
       will close tight
'round my neck, it's what I'm expecting these days.


When you change your mind,
you know where to find me:
locked up inside or on dim streets,
out after drinks and sifting through memories
                                   I just can't let go.
The sounds of the night
are drowned out by your voice--
--circles my head like halos of streetlights
outside the liquor store on the corner
                                    where they know my name.

Just don't forget my name.

Game's up, my hand is laid.
Folded at the table
          this neighborhood stays small.
Sidewalks' destinations
                                              are the
same. All I can say is that:
           it's alright
    though these nights
        will close tight
'round my neck, it's all I know anyway.

It's a weird feeling, being in love and lonely all at the same time
To put your whole heart into something you can't see
You know long distance relationships are tough
But what's hard is looking across the room at the eyes you love
And feeling every inch like they were miles
Seeing your cheeks turn to stone when I try to make you laugh
Feeling every could-be-kiss like a character from a book
Reading their stories
Making my heart race
Leaving my lips as dry, chapped, cracked as they always are
I sweat in my sleep from your body heat
While my veins freeze over from the warmth of your affection
I keep looking at the thermostat because I don't want to be cold anymore
But we're already sitting in our own *** sweat at eighty two degrees
And I can't make you care enough to smile anymore
But apparently I'm trying hard enough to get you to stay
Or more accurately hard enough for you not to leave
Leaving is hard work anyway
And feeling loved is nice
I imagine
At least that's what I've heard.