Voicemail

Listen, I know I once wished to kill myself just so I could be reincarnated

and come back as your left lung to finally feel a type of breathing

that didn’t hurt, but I am done being the seconds between lightning and thunder.

I am done being the debris after the tornado.

I know it’s getting late and the stars are starting to wish upon themselves,

but before all is said and done, I just wanted to tell you-

I am the storm itself.

My mother once told me that skies are just a reflection of the ocean

but I am no longer a reflection of what you did to me.

I used to believe that on his bad days God or whoever’s up there

would switch the clouds and the seas around just to get a change of scenery

and for a few seconds the water would get to feel

all the pain the sky goes through at not being able to touch the ground

but here I am, telling you

that I am fine

and I don’t want you to feel what I feel anymore

because water doesn’t have the right to touch the skies it once tried to drown.

So I hope you memorize the sound of this dial tone after I hang up

because if you ever hurt another woman the way you hurt me,

that’s the only thing you’ll ever hear when you try to call her back. 

suicide hotline

Hello I can’t sleep, I’ve fallen in love with all the monsters inside my head

because they’re the only ones in my life who have cared enough to stay.

The other night I read about an old woman who died crushed beneath

a pile of her deceased husband’s suits and ties

and was only discovered three months later

by which time all the moths had flocked to eat holes in the clothing.

Don’t let that happen to me, please.

Don’t let me die crushed beneath this sadness

Waiting for all the monsters inside my head to flock like vultures

at the chance of finally being able to be let out.

Hello I can’t sleep either and this is why I do this job.

Listening to strangers on the other end sob.

I have monsters inside my head too; sometimes they sound just like you.

They whisper that everything is hopeless

and there’s no way out.

But they’re beautiful too.

As are you.

Because no matter what happens tonight or from now on,

they’ve found something they love and that, that is enough,

to help them stay.

Princess and the Frog

Princess, one day fuck will only be a swear word in your vocabulary

and someone will make love to you the way you deserve.

There is a difference between making and taking.

and there is a difference between a man who will kiss you like a promise

that he intends to keep

and a man who will kiss you like a promise that he will break

the same way he snaps a heart in half without wishing on the longest piece

of the one bone that’s left intact inside it.

Princess, one day that same heart will be the one you don’t cross

and hope to die on, but the one you choose to live on.

Wait for the ghosts that haunt you not with bad memories

but with so many good ones that they fill your brain with confetti

made up of all the most beautiful experiences you’ve ever had.

And let ‘em shower down on you til you understand that partying

doesn’t always have to involve parting ways

with everything you hold near and dear.

Sometimes the prince is disguised as the frog.

Sometimes, princess, you learn more from the crash landings

than the seatbelts.

So the next time you open your mouth to another

wait to make sure there’s a poem inside.

Loving him when he doesn't love himself

You don't notice at first. You're too busy getting lost in his eyes to realize how distant they are from yours. His words seem sincere, so you pay no mind to the hollow echo hovering around them after they have left his lips. His kisses set fire to your mouth, concealing the coldness of his body. His hands squeeze yours like he is trying to get rid of any space in between your fingers in hopes of finally feeling close to someone again. You compliment him and he thanks you, but his thanks lacks all depth, as if telling him he looks nice that day is a progressive as shouting into an empty void of self-consciousness. You'll sit there and scratch his back while he dozes off, his head of scruffy hair tenderly perched upon your chest, and you'll hear him quietly mumble in his sleep. Maybe it's easier for him to be honest with his eyes closed. He'll push you away and then pull you back just as quickly, knowing that although you might not be perfect he still needs you just as badly as you need him. Some days his smile will set a fire in your heart, while other days his harsh words slap you across the face and you find it hard to breathe. His eyes are hungry for someone. For hope, for attention, for love. But if his eyes are a ringing telephone then nobody seems to be home at the moment, Or at any moment. Your fingertips gently trace over his scarred knuckles, and you know that each scar holds a meaning, a story, but you are too afraid to ask how they ended. 

You've never felt love before. Never seen it, never believed in it. And although you stay skeptical, you know in your heart that you love him. Your brain is screaming at you to tell him. Your heart strings are pulling you closer and closer until there is no more room to pull. You want to tell him. But you can't. You're afraid. You are afraid to tell this boy you love him because you know that he does not love himself. Your mama always told you- "There is no such thing as being either a lover or a fighter. You can only be both. Because is it even love, really, if you don't have to fight for it?"  You will fight for this boy. You will show him you love him without ever telling him in hopes that one day he will be able to look at himself in the mirror and tell himself that he is worthy. He is important. He is loved. And the day he can look himself in the eye and say, "I love you", well, that's the day that you'll do the same. 

S.A.

Its not that I'm afraid. Its knowing that my mother held me in her arms less than 10 times before she gave me up. Its knowing that she came to visit me one day at the agency and walked out knowing she wasn't coming back- but I didn't know. Its knowing her heart had been broken so many times she started a relationship with drugs and renewed her vows every night. Its the experience of being given to a new family and not knowing anything about where you came from. Its the constant fights between mother and daughter, ending in breathless gasps of hurtful words and frustration. Its the memories of the tear-stained cheeks and muffled screams into my pillow so no one can hear me letting out the recollection of being unwanted. Its the tentative strokes of the razor on my hot skin after I take a shower, because why not hurt myself physically as bad as I was hurt mentally? Its watching every single one of my close friends slowly fade into just another person in the crowd. Its remembering the names of all the boys I have loved, and then remembering all the ways they told me I wasn't good enough. Its the way I look into a mirror and I see nothing. Its realizing that its easier to block out the feelings instead of letting people in; because people only come into your life to mess it up, and then they leave. Its not that I'm afraid of love. It's that I no longer know how to.

It

it is the way my breath catches in my throat when i see you walking that walk, a confident aura concealing your mind from anyone who speaks harshly of you. 
it is the way my stomach flutters when your blue eyes catch mine, and i see the curiosity and excitement you have for this world hidden deep within your irises.
it is the way your smell intoxicates me, leaving me desperately trying to inhale your scent in hopes i can breathe in just a little bit more of that attention that i crave so intensely. 
it is the way i stumble when your fingertips brush over the spots you just kissed and you laugh softly because you know what you do to me.
it is the way that last fast kiss after a long deep one leaves me the most breathless out of them all.
it is the way you pull me close in a protective hug, leaving no space in-between us for doubt to creep through. 
it is the way my heart skips a beat when i hear a car drive past my house, and my young naive mind silently hopes that its you coming to whisk me away from reality.
it is the way your smile makes me smile, and mine stays on long after yours has been replaced by the vacant look of a troubled mind and an empty heart. 
i'm not sure what it is,
i don't have a clue where it will lead me,
and i'm almost positive i will not survive it.
the only thing i know for sure right now
is that i'm completely in love with the feeling of it.

there.

                   she                                                                                he
                    never                                                                     always
                         knew                                                             knew
                              what                                                    what
                                    to                                                to
                                      say                                        say
                                            so                               but
                                               she                      was
                                                   stood        never
                                                             there
                                                        to        waiting
                                                  pick                    for
                                               up                               his
                                           all                                       words
                                        of                                               to
                                    the                                                      mend
                            broken                                                              her
                        pieces.                                                                      heart.

i need to sleep.
i need to put my weary body and mind to rest.
but every time i close my eyes,
i am greeted with images of you.

you when we were happy.
you before it all fell apart.
you when you wanted me.
you when we were Us.

but keeping my eyes open is not much better.
for when they are open, i am greeted by images of you as well.
the only difference is that when my eyes are open,
tears take that chance to run down my cheeks and join together with my memories.

crystal blue eyes like the Peyto Lake, soaking up the sunshine and making me shake
voice that hooks you like a siren call, one little song and then you fall
lips speak words soft and sweet, charmingly sweeping me off my feet
everything about you's like an addicting drug- your smile, your laugh, your kisses, your hugs. 

driving around town or staying at home, when I'm with you I feel less alone
the confident aura you portray helps keep the negative thoughts away
I never second guess my thoughts, never feel bad about my fears
minutes with you feel like seconds, days without you feel like years.

touching you is electrifying, sending shocks up my spine,
and wherever you walk you radiate happiness and good times.
talking to you is exhilarating, guys like you are hard to find,
and honestly, I'd be crazy not to call you mine.

Angel

My mother is my Angel
Of that I know for sure.

Through her seldom smiles 
That last for miles
to the tears she never cries.

My mother is my Angel 
And I am by her side

From "Wake up" in the morning
To "I love you" late at night
I've found my secret Haven 
in Angel's words just like starlight

Angel always seems to listen
Even when I think she's not

I've learned to be forgiving
I've learned to follow dreams
I've learned so much from Angel
I've never fully seen

I have always admired

My angel for her strength
 But mostly for her loving words 
that get me through the day.

My Mother 
My Angel dear
Don't you ever leave me
My own life to steer

before and after

then.

i was the one in the crowd who always stuck out. i was the brightest star, glistening and shining, soaking up the attention from the people below me. i was an 11:11 wish come true, a four leaf clover, a time capsule from your childhood. i was fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies from your mother's kitchen. i was lazy Sunday mornings, and sweet nothings whispered into ears by lovers in hushed corners of the room. i was the little things that meant everything but seemed like nothing at all.

now.

i am an eclipse. the shadow of the one that got away. i am the love song you play over and over at 2 am, wondering where it all went wrong. i exist only in "remember when"s and "used to be"s. i am memories recalled in drunken states of mind, and late night poems by underrated authors. i am broken promises, and forgotten prom dates. i am everything wanted to be lost, and nothing that will ever be found.

At Your Disposal

I've never had confidence issues. I've never had any reason to doubt myself, or a reason to make me think I’m anything less than beautiful.

But then you came along. 

You made me believe I was something special, and for those few weeks I truly felt like it. And when you left, you didn't just take our memories and our story that was only in the prologue.  You took along my confidence, my self-assurance, and any hope I had that love could ever exist between two people.

I was a tall standing redwood and you chopped me down, cutting my branches of life into little pieces that you used to kindle the next fire you start in another girl’s heart.  My love was at your disposal, and you washed me down the drain to flow among the tears that ran down my face. 

Every word that you say is another bitter reminder that I am no longer your She, and you are no longer my He. I wanted so badly to go back and figure out what I did wrong, so maybe I could fix the broken shell of my heart. I had built up a wall so sturdy, so strong, and you had bulldozed right through it with your smile. 

One day, I may forgive you for the pain you have caused me. But I will never forget. 

Descending beauty

A dark staircase, only leading down. 

Despite my mind telling me no, my brain says yes. 

So I descend, into the deep cold dark. 

I'm so far down now, I can't see anything. 

The light from which I came, vanished. 

The only way forward, is to continue down. 

Only darkness laying ahead, alone in the dark. 

My mind keeps playing tricks on me, making every step as terrifying as the last. 

But my heart keeps pushing onward, leading me into the unknown. 

Sometimes I stumble, but my heart helps me right back up. 

Suddenly a light appears, from out of the deep dark. 

After spending so much time in the dark, the light is blinding. 

But despite my mind's warnings, my heart tells me to keep looking. 

Looking at you, my light. 

The prettiest thing I've ever seen, the only way for me to get back up.

People ask why I write. 
They ask how I do it, and what it means to me. 
My answer is always simple. Easy.
"I write because I love it." 

Watching words come together and form a sentence is beautiful. 
Seeing those symbols meet in a meaningful harmony, telling a story enriched with emotion. 
The words tumbling over each other like roaring waves,
then laying out smoothly onto the beach of recycled bamboo paper.

Writing is going to other places when your current location isn't pleasant.
It's standing under an umbrella in the pouring rain.
It's your first kiss, your last kiss, and all the kisses in between. 
It is love, and it is loss.

But most importantly, writing is my passion. 
It's a never-ending fire in my heart and sole that can only be kindled by a pencil and a piece of paper.
It's my way of letting out my frustration.
It's my way of telling my secrets to someone who will never tell.


So the next time someone asks me why I write, my answer will not change. 
"I write, because I love it."

His passion flaring like a comet, setting ablaze to his eyes.
Each word he speaks full of life.
His every thought sparks interest in my heart.
His every theory immerses my head with speculation.

I love the way he gets excited over the tiniest details.
I love the way he views life in his own way.
I love the way he doesn't quite fit in with the crowd,
yet he sticks out in the most sensational way.

A mind so complex, so interesting, so stupendous.
A mind far too wonderful to depict in any form of writing or art.
Yet this mind, though it understands so much,
cannot seem to comprehend how beautiful it truly is.

Yes, this mind might quite possibly be mad-
crazily, extraordinarily insane.
But it has been said that the ones who are considered crazy,
are the best kind of people to be with.

"It's like a light bulb in a dark room.
Once the light goes out, darkness takes over.
For light needs a source of power, 
but darkness does not."

But there is one light that doesn't seem to need anything,
and it lights the way for others constantly, all day and all night.
It provides heat, warmth, security and hope, helping people get through each day.
It represents a reminder that no matter how hard today is, 
you'll always have tomorrow to fix it.

Well my darling, I have some news for you.
No matter how hard my day is, how sad or mad I get,
I will always have you to look forward to,
for you are my sunshine. 

My prince

late nights have turned into lonely nights.
happy mornings have turned into boring mornings.
cute texts that make me smile have disappeared.

no one to cheer me up when i'm feeling down
no one to make the clouds go away
no one to get a smile out of my frown
no one to provide all those happy days

i know one day we will meet again
and a kiss might take place
but for now, and until then,
i will wait for my prince, sleeping quietly in my glass case.

It was ours.

Listening to songs
Memories flooding back
Pounding in my head
Aching in my heart

I know I shouldn't miss you
Because the feeling has never been mutual
But you were my something special
and I don't think I'll ever let those moments go

From texts in the morning,
to hugs in the afternoon,
to movie marathons at night.
All of the cuteness, happiness, silliness
It was ours.

I know you don't care,
I know you don't remember.
But that doesn't mean,
that I have to be like that too.

We never knew.

Love poems are quite useless honestly,
because no single poem can describe everyone's love.
Every case of love is different,
and most cannot be fathomed into a paragraph on a piece of paper.

But still we waste away our romantic thoughts
to be read by unknown people- many of which have never even experienced love yet.
We think that we know so much about this four lettered word
but then it hits us like a storm, in the heart and soul.
And that's when we realize- we never knew what we were getting ourselves into.

We never knew what we were getting into.

No One

no one ever notices
the dark eyes hidden behind the wide smile
the falter in her 'confident' words
the flatness of her loud laugh
no one ever notices
her disappearance every few days
her constant long sleeved shirts
her empty hands at the lunch table
no one ever notices
so she doesn't think they care
so she thinks she's alone
so she doesn't change
no one ever notices
until she voices up
until she gets caught
until its too late
no one ever notices.



dedicated to Sophi, rest in peace baby girl<3    3-21-13

Point of Views

life is very... one sided.
because you can only see it from your own point of view.
but what happens when you get tired of your point of view?
what happens when you meet someone whose mind is so fascinating
and so enchanting
that you wish the entire WORLD could see things the way that person does?
what happens when you realize that life is all about getting out of your comfort zone?
getting out of your own skin? metaphorically, of course.
if people could put their emotions on hold
long enough to see things from another person's point of view,
how many fights, how much war, do you think could be avoided?
think about it- if we could see, what others see,
would there really be a need for chaos?