Bound.

Unpaint my skin,
I am nothing but a meer wooden child.

The lull and tranquility of this nostalgia
Is nothing but a carefree twine wrapped around the dark of my heart.

Me finding you.

this is nothing more than the silly fluttering of an equally silly heart.

this is my tongue tripping on the truth and my trembling fingers clawing at my arm trying to get rid of the heart bleeding on it. this is my teeth clacking together and my emotions knockknockknocking against my ribs so i might please let them out to play.

this is my words getting abandoned in the silences and the pauses swallowing the tension whole. this is using your moss green eyes as a northern star when i’m getting lost in possibilities, using your smile as the curve i rest in when the world’s too much to bear.

this is fighting my own spine to stand up straight when your voice is unwinding my nerves and using my vertebrae as your personal game of jenga. this is allowing you to take small pieces at a time, eroding at my walls until i’m crumpling like origami on your front porch, unwinding to lay helplessly at your feet.

this is day dreaming about nights with you and instead spending them painting your laughter on my ceiling. this is wondering what your mouth tastes like and how your arms feel and if my pulse will pattern yours or if together ours will make a brand new symphony to dance to.

this is burning my past to make room for our future, finally finding something worth believing in. this is waiting for years and being rewarded with your soft kisses at dawn, your finely-framed fingers on my shoulders, your cheek leaning against mine.

this is hope bleeding into faith.
this is wishes turning into reality.
this is me finally finding you.
this is me loving you.

Throwing stones.

I wish to be the woman who does not say too much but lets you say everything. I wish I could be silent and still like the waters of a pond, and you, you would be the kid who sits on the edge of it throwing stones on my surface, making noise inside of me.

Trapped.

So I’ve been meaning to tell you how much you mean to me, but the words just escape me whenever you’re around. I figured I’d give it a try now, despite the fact you may not take the time to read this. I feel like maybe you deserve to have it written anyways. It’s nice to know that someone took the time, right? So here it goes. Don’t make fun if it’s not exactly right. I’ve never exactly had a way with words. Or getting things right, for that matter. But here goes nothing.
You remind me of the weirdest things. You remind me of being a kid and having nothing to worry over except if I made Santa’s good list, or if my mom was going to let me have dessert that night. You remind me of those perfect fall days when it is not either too cold or too warm; it’s the perfect temperature inbetween them and the sun is shining down and you feel like you’re invincible and can do anything. You remind me of those smiles that people capture on camera that actually aren’t fake. I guess I’m trying to say that you remind me of those simple times, perfect moments, and just something real. I know, it’s pretty cheesy, but at this point I don’t care if I sound lame. You’re pretty lame yourself, and you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.
You’re one of those people I could tell anything to. And it’s not because I know it’ll be kept secret– though it will be. It’s because you’re one of the few people I know that actually care. It’s a really rare thing to find a listener in a world full of people who seem to only want to talk talk talk, and are not really saying anything. But I’ve managed to find you among all of the noise, and for that I’m glad. It’s not a one-sided thing, though, so don’t thing that. I love listening to you talk just as much as love the fact that you listen. To be totally honest, you’ve got me all caught up in your words. I guess I’m caught up with you in general, though. And maybe it sounds kind of crazy, but I think you’re the first guy I could really imagine spending the rest of my life with. I’m not saying I think I’m going to marry you or last forever or any of hat kind of stuff. I’m just saying that I think I could spend the rest of my life with you if I wanted, and I’d be just fine with that. You’re the one person I don’t think I’d ever really get tired of. You’re the one guy I wouldn’t feel like I’m missing out on something even better if I was with. Usually in these kind of things, I feel trapped. And maybe I still am trapped. But I’m just fine being trapped if it’s with you.
❤

I am yours.

“You are the words that I type, the thoughts in my head, the sign in my throat. I am yours. Every piece of me belongs to you, is because of you. Every dream, every smile, every laugh, every moment is you and belongs soley to you. I never believed in this. I never believed in true happiness or certainly not true love. I never believed it possible I would fall asleep every night with this wild grin on my face; I never believed the nightmares would stop. I never believed that every tear to fill my eye would be happy. I was cynical, was. Now I am beautiful and not because I wasn’t before, it was there, I suppose… sleeping, rather waiting… to come to life, waiting for you your warmth and your depth. It needed to take root in something other than sadness, other than anxiety, other than hopelessness. Then you found me and I came alive, I am yours and you are mine.”

❤
Quote unkown.

Truly.

“Truly, to tell lies is not honorable;
but when the truth entails tremendous ruin,
To speak dishonorably is pardonable.”

Happiness.

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that was’t supposed to let us down probably will. You’ll have your heart broken, probably more than once, and it’s harder every time. You’ll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when someone broke yours. You’ll fight with your best friend and maybe even fall in love with them. You’ll blame a new love for things an old one did. You’ll cry because time is passing too fast and eventually lose someone close to you. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you’ve never been hurt because every 60 seconds you spend angry or upset is a minute of happiness you’ll never get back.

Only Aquaintances

My friends have been murdered
by porn and computer
games; they won’t play
catch outside anymore,
But they’ll juggle their balls
while grinding their orcs
or elves or whatever the hell
these kids RP as these days.
They’re being raped as we speak,
willfully, smudging an ass
on the screen like it’s a photo-
copier, looking for that perfect
MySpace shot, pleading us
to rim them with comments.
My friends: they’re out smoking pot,
which is fine, but when the pans
start sizzlin’, you should turn
down the heat just a notch.
They’re frying bigger fish, they say,
while I’m out casting my net,
solo, whistling a tune only
the birds understand. The bees
Are calling them: my friends—the girls
and their pregnancy scares; the guys,
still unaware of the use of a condom
Or abstinence: my friends—they’re drinking
every night just to sleep
and think it’s the only true
way to party! 1999 called me
Yesterday; I wanted nostalgia and memories,
but my friends—my Goddamn friends—
drive drunk down the lane; now
I only see them in the obituaries.

Of Skeletons and Burning

I want to shave myself down. To peel the layers back and discover some kind of ethereal beauty that has never been seen before. There is too much baggage on my frame, I feel I may break beneath beauty’s burden. I want to break my mirrors and slice my body into a million shards of glimmering filth and dice it over and over again until I have reached my ribs. Maybe then, mirrors would know how to whisper beauty in my ears and grace my eyes with joy. But mirrors cannot do the hidden justice; their glass is not sharp enough to cut through.

I just want to tear my layers off; bathe in a bath of boiling chemicals and watch myself disintegrate with my swirling reflection gazing back. I want to find the underneath just past the in between and just before my core. My core seems to be divided by a barrier of steel, shielded from the elements in the eyes. Is a bomb enough to blow it down? Would I find my insides imploding with the explosion or would I instead see my soul splattered to the ground as passerby step unknowingly upon it.

Please don’t tread on my soul.

There is something inches beneath my skin aching to escape and stretch it’s wings. I don’t know if it’s an eagle or a dove, but either is better than an earthbound enigma that cannot find the sky. There was got to be something more than letting the earth take you along for the ride; I don’t want to encompassed. I need to see the sun and the moon on my own terms.

I’ve always had a desire for destruction. There is a fire in my veins and a burning on my skin that your waters cannot quench. I will find a little fuel and shower myself in it until I am nothing more than a pile of ashes at your feet and the wind takes me away in a single breath.

Just Like That.

I was thinking that
I was this
really happy girl
and that I could finally
do anything again
only to realize that all
it ever took to
make my soul bleed
again
was a single thing
that tore on the edges
of my scar that I
had protected so harshly
just so I would
never break again but
it did and it’s the same
all over
again.