This is For YouThis is for the boy with the cracks on his hands and a splintering face,
the lovely girl feeling not-so-lovely anymore-
the boy with his hands locked high over his head,
unlock them. Unlock doubt and inhibitions-
For the girl who said THIS IS MY FIRST SCAR.
like she wanted more to come-
For the man who knew that if there ever was a time to seize the day,
that time was here and now and never. That time was her
snow-white blouse against her snow-white skin and her fingers
trickling down his spine-
I see the world through your hands, your fingertips, your pores.
I saw you dancing on the spouting gravel,
entwined in roots and feet and H2O.
You were a defiant stare and an intervention,
you had a silken voice: purling, purging,
stealing lines from famous songs. On tip-toes
and backbone, you stretched and reached and
cried like you had no remorse
-or too much of it.
Call her drunk, she likes thatYou could call her drunk, call her sober or three hundred doves,
dying, bird flu intoxicated and drowning in the deep end of the pool,
chlorinated. You could call her drunk, but she wouldnt understand your words,
and youd be slurring again. Shes talking fine. Shes twenty rubber bands,
snapping all at once.
You could call her drunk, but you cant remember her number.
You could call her drunk but shes just a little tipsy at this hour, too wild
to be wasting away. You can see her wasting away, but now there are three
of her and you dont remember if she chugged the bottle
or if it was you.
It doesnt really make a difference.
this is the sound of stars
screaming like fireworks, and
mangled promises spilling
through trainwreck teeth. this
is the sound of lungs filling
with air and girls with brown
eyes and the whisperwhisper
of sheets on skin.
i have never heard a more eloquent silence.
this is not me, this is
the purple-blue of midwest
sunsets and the hope found
between quintessential smiles
and blinding neon lights. this
is the amount of air between
worlds and words and the freckles
on your left shoulder. this is not me.
but i promise you, someday i will be incredible.
you are filled with delicate bones
and inchoate dreams, and maybe
someday you will turn your suppressed
screams into more then just an escape
route. maybe someday you will finally
see your elegant imperfections and
enchanting eyes and you will realize that
you are beautiful.
Circles.My life is running in
circles, and that scares me
I've noticed that
if I try walking in the light, my
shadow will grow and scare
but if I try going into the
dark, I am scared that no one
will notice me.
I'm not sure which I prefer.
I don't know if I like things
like dream catchers or cameras
because dream catchers only
bring good dreams, and sometimes
I want the wrong person
to love me in my dreams
only hold memories, there's no
future or present, only
Rainbows used to be
beautiful, but now they only
hurt my eyes because
I know they're illusions, but I still
get the urge to run after it, to
find a pot of gold, so I'll
settle for the thunder and lightning
because those are real
and why would I chase
Sometimes, I lock myself
into my room and scream into my head
because if I don't force it, I never
think about things because
you've ruined my mind and
it only sees bad things now
and I naturally avoid it.
I've tried to freeze myself