The Essential Theriot

Revision

2010-03-31T16:21:00.001-07:00

11th

We are a revision
Eraser flakes stuck in eyelashes
Paper worn thin, faded lines
We are a rough draft
Editors’ marks in red
Slashes through bolded words, dry ink
The two of us are coffee stains on napkins
And tea bags sticky with cold honey
Bread crumbs, magazines, scattered feathers
I like to believe that one man’s trash
Is another’s treasure
And that maybe some polishing,
Some looking to the east
Could be enough

Lucky Penny

2010-03-31T16:18:00.001-07:00

11th

Crisp morning resting on the floor
And bright, cold October peeking through blinds
I won’t forget the cramp in my back, stiff neck
The sounds of breathing from the surrounding rooms
Alice made coffee, her hair rumpled with memories of sleep
There were eggs later, but I can’t remember from where

In a bright cubicle of concrete and domesticated vines
You woke last, ambled out when the rest of us
Sat together under a broad-leafed tree
And I thought the sky cupped your face like a lover’s hands
That kiss in the quiet was my favorite, my lucky penny
Brief, but I felt it closest- your cotton shirt, swollen eyes

This is the first time I decided to love beards;
I see men with them now and want to reach out my fingers

Bone Dry

2010-03-31T16:13:00.000-07:00

11th

I sing that song under my breath
Feeling a movie-scene tremble;
And my foot is tapping
But not for dancing, not to a rhythm-
Unless it’s my nervous breathing
The only preparation and expectation is
To keep back bile
To keep down my dinner

Shattered bones form a cage in my chest
And one of these days
I’ll stop poking my fingers through
Curiosity will abate, sunsets will be easy again
And the murmured song under my breath

1764

2010-03-31T16:12:00.001-07:00

11th

The green emeralds tumble
With dangerous, pointed facets
While birds cry, and watch;

Eighty years of proud masts
And dense, warm sand
Have carved a niche
Now empty, and stone cold

Soft bandages wait, hopefully
Because those torn hands
Crying tears of red, red rubies
Need rest, and soothing

Carnival

2010-03-31T16:10:00.000-07:00

11th

It is very cold out
But the ducks, with heads tucked
Under their downy wings
Look warmer than I feel
And lake reflect reflected with harsh
Orange streetlamp light
The fountain’s splatter and hiss
Is my companion tonight-
Even the criminals don’t come to this park
So tree-less, so intrusively lit

That old circus tune plays a creaking circle
In my mind-
Dun dun-a-dun
A loop
Dun dun-a-dun
A vague warning
Dun dun-a-dun
That doesn’t reach my lips
Dun dun-a-dun
And if it did it would be like
The scattered white feathers under my feet
Dun dun dun-a-dun dun
Or a ghost

Fortune Telling

2010-03-31T16:07:00.000-07:00

11th

Like so many crystal balls
The streetlamps glowed tripled
Against the sky, and out from
Chilled puddles on the ground-
My future too?
I think of a dust cloud
Small and drifting up
From shuffled tarot cards
A memory exposed;
If you shook my bones
Or more appropriately, tossed them
Like fortune telling tiles
A similar smell would drift by
Cold as puddles, and my lying eyes

Face in the Snowstorm

2010-03-31T15:59:00.000-07:00

11th

It’s like I’m a snowstorm--
Each day feels as if my face is subtly different

I wait;
Wearing a future of undetermined moments around my neck
A reassuring, distant consistency

Colors

2010-03-31T15:58:00.001-07:00

11th

You give my stomach epilepsy
And I move in waves of hesitancy
These feelings make a mess of me-
I’m becoming quite unwound

Frozen Lake

2010-02-23T18:14:00.001-08:00

11th

Dirty crescent moons shadow my eyes
And beat like palms beneath thick ice
So tired, and so cold
In this stifling encasement of air
My hands push through;
The swimming of goldfish in a bowl

Forever in Red

2010-02-23T17:58:00.000-08:00

11th

What if they hid forever in a fire hydrant,
And it waits there at every corner
Safely incased in red;
Only freeing itself in jets of cold water
During summertime

Time to Start Writing in Pencil Again

2010-02-23T17:46:00.000-08:00

11th

Your fingers dripped with dark berry juice
Down your hand, leaving a trail to the crease of your arm
It looked like black ink on paper-
I reached out to touch it, but changed my mind

“Twenty times already,” you said;
“Never getting ‘em back.”
And this was a purposeful statement
Punctuated with a purposeful slurp from your glass
There was nothing for me to say

The berry juice would stain your jeans and white shirt
But apparently this wasn’t a concern
Compared to whatever thorn you worried at
In your side;
So I listened, and thought about the smell of lead
And new paper in an office store

Queridos

2010-02-23T17:42:00.000-08:00

11th

After eleven it is hard to tell
who is more tired
I, or the night itself
Both of us sink to fill spaces
Forgotten in daylight, smooth and waxy
Both of us melt and sigh-

The candle flame dances
To a heating unit’s hum
And the maraca footfalls outside my door
Fiesta, siesta; I cannot speak Spanish
But lying in cold sheets I hear the language,
Spoken sweetly by someone I’ve yet to meet

Midnight, and outside looks thick as clay
But nowhere near as pliable
Somewhere a sculptor’s arthritic hands-
old as dirt and just as brown,
Creak; and I breathe to the imagined sound of it
In the trees, and my bones, and the settling night

France

2010-02-23T17:36:00.000-08:00

11th

“This is a weird, crazy world we live in,”
The old man said
And his two companions murmured and laughed
In agreement; that kind of mucus-y rattle
“It reminds me of the first time
I visited France, in front of a small café…”
His sure voice faded behind me
Along with the porch, and flaking pastel paint
I wanted to hear his story and nod
Because it is impossible for me to forget
My own times in Paris;
The ones that haven’t happened yet

Free Ice-Water

2010-02-23T17:34:00.000-08:00

11th

This little plastic cup
The one with red lipstick around the rim
Is its own planet
The chocolate cookie orbits
And I am watching; their God
Almighty drinker, spiller, biter
I am in control of my universe

The man whose pen I’ve borrowed is surrounded by
Chemical equations, Lewis Dot structures, neatly drawn out
And he is master of these spreadsheets
Gracious enough to lend me an instrument of his creations

In our spinning existences
I will forget his face
And the bracelets on my arm today
The flavor of coffee I ordered earlier
But I have words
And so,
I am the almighty God
Of my little universe

Second Haze

2010-02-23T17:32:00.000-08:00

11th

The grass is so much taller than me
It reaches up to the sky
Like a mirror of my own splayed fingers
But more vibrant
More likely to sink into the lush sky
Purple, deep, singing with songs and leaves
And the lights from civilization
Crushed under the horizon-
It is gentler on my cheek
Lying there like your palms
And warm breath, clouding around my lips
A billowing blanket in the cold
The wind lifts your hair, like music notes
Like silk from Africa
Embers and clove

I am moon-white and heaving
A sail in this sea of grass
You the ship, and creaking mast;
If each grain of sand was individual
Under my eye
It could be an adequate comparison
For the strands you’ve unwound are separate
But whole too; and linked
Beneath my skin
My rushing blood, drums

Hibernating

2010-02-18T17:22:00.000-08:00

11th

We fell through a second;
A snowflake not melting in our palms
But gliding, and sinking into spring
Dew drops that coat batting lashes, coquettish smiles

Above is something grim
A cloud I’d like to ignore,
To lower my eyes from;
But it chokes me with cigarette smoke,
And a sweeter smell
One that curls in the warmth of your pores
I envy these resting places
And that proximity to you

Jack Frost

2010-02-18T17:17:00.000-08:00

11th

You are the purple pinpricks of light
That pop around my eyes
Begging to be connected, or gathered
Held, or cast with dandelion seeds
Savored, or soft with wind for sky

I would want them to fall like snowflakes
On my tongue;
They would taste like sound
Sound like cold
Like ice down my back,
Wintry hands

Disinfected

2010-02-18T17:16:00.000-08:00

11th

On the way back from Goodwill-
Long rows of discarded, forgotten things
Some little treasures and others junk
All smelling like dust and a nameless disinfectant;
The sky looked darkly bruised
Over the oblivious cars dragging away
Bits of the highway

The radio ignored my begging
In fact, the only answer I received was a sudden opening
Of sky; of floodgates- torrential drops
Each one broke my eyes, and
Each one was branded with your name

The Wishing Hour in Eyes

2010-02-18T16:57:00.001-08:00

11th

The smell of you hovers over my skin
Like a sheen of sweat would;
Filling the space between me and the sheets
Despite my place in a darkness that exists
Miles away, I can see the pair of ones in each eyes
Each orb of yours, each window
A scene that rolls before me
Like dusky hills; or a day promising rain

I will fall asleep to the sound of breathing
My chest like water lapping at the shore
In, out, and branching in two
Meeting yours somewhere, maybe
In the place that exists behind closed lids
In a timeless sigh;
Our dreams a pane of smooth glass
That we can press our hands to on either side
A sort of lesson in remembrance; practice
Until we can cross the existing roads here
Travel to the fragrant place
Where our hands twine

Clutching Stars

2010-02-18T16:56:00.001-08:00

11th

I am blinded by the light of days
That once lived inside me,
But have since been freed
I am tangled in the branches
That grew between my lips
And drown in the oceans of my eyes
Yet, yet, there is something
A star, a silver glow to clutch

White, Crimson

2010-02-18T16:54:00.000-08:00

11th

Checkerboards of glass
These pieces are stone
And white as bone-
Prepare to break
Beneath the weighted motion

Pitcher of blood
Is smooth as the sea,
And made of me-
I watch it,
Not trusting the familiar crimson

Unfolding

2010-02-18T16:53:00.000-08:00

11th

We’ve made the moon smile tonight;
It is a comfort to know
That I am not alone in my waiting
She calls my restless spirit
With white eyes, and says
“Hush, hush; everything unfolds
Like petals, and gradual snow.”

Shouldering It

2010-02-18T16:52:00.000-08:00

11th

A constant shoulder- that is what I am
It’s only fair, I suppose
With all the tears of my own I’ve shed
Regardless
These things seem to happen in pairs
Or coins, or playing cards
And for once it would be nice
To have smiles completely unaccompanied
By shadows, and a viable hope

The Something There

2010-02-18T16:48:00.000-08:00

11th

This one’s for you
That song so subtly hinted,
And hummed with a message undisguised
You heard me sigh
Mentioning a someone connected with
The words, the something there

This one’s for you
The poem inspired by both
Lyrics, and your own exquisite mind
The two becoming so confused
In my own head, and I can’t compare the feeling
Because you wouldn’t understand, the something there

Ring of Leaves

2010-01-03T13:23:00.001-08:00

rediscovered

Those cliché lullabies don’t fit your fingers
Awkward rings;
And common words slip past your gaze
Bland and faded billboards on the highway

I’d compose a new song,
A silver band of leaves
Instead of my past’s chipped plastic,
And yours

M.D

2010-01-01T17:21:00.000-08:00

11th

The clock continues to tick, while the paper fills
With throbbing stanzas; 11:11 haunts me
And you are the echo of that wish
An unfulfilled irony, a scab I pick

Grocery Shopping

2010-01-01T17:19:00.000-08:00

11th

These are the things I hold in my mind:
A sweater draped across the back of my chair
Jeans on the floor

I watch you sleep
Steady breath and only the smallest
Fluttering of eyelashes

Despite the creamy daylight
I can feel the darkness
It is a second skin of yours
Settling, waiting for your eyes to open
So they can harden into that customary
Glass prison; but for now you are quiet

Shoes in a pile near the door,
Your watch and wallet on my dresser
Sitting innocently on an Austin novel.
I check off each item like a grocery list

A Press of Lips

2010-01-01T17:17:00.001-08:00

11th

Each kiss is a distinct
Embodiment of you
A gentle press of lips-
Pressure built, your teeth catching hold
And squeezing sharply
The white hot flash of pain
Burning my mouth
I could gasp, but instead
Inexplicably I shudder
Once again your lips are gently
Lingering, carefully lifting up the threads
That can unravel me
With a gentle press of lips

Chess Piece

2010-01-01T17:16:00.001-08:00

11th

If I thought my lungs could handle
This hot intensity, this passion
I would breathe you in
Feel you in my hair and
On my skin
You are every drop of sweat
You are every shudder in the darkness
You are the cloud of wood smoke settling
Into the fibers of my pillow
And am I the block of wood you carve,
Into a chess piece?
A pawn you can gently hold, and guide
I need your laughter, and
Fear it.

Curious Sand Murals

2010-01-01T17:11:00.000-08:00

11th grade

I’d love to draw your lips in the sand
And then lay in it, the surf at my feet
Lapping my calves like curious hands

Later on my hair would still be wet;
I’d kiss the hollow at your throat,
And your breath would dry it

Five months until the summer time
Freedom, heat, and running fast to somewhere-
Join me, please?

Claude Monet

2010-01-01T17:09:00.000-08:00

11th

The green stop light glowed
Through a spattering of hesitant raindrops;
Like leprechaun eyes, or old coins
I know that I’d rather be feeling your face, teeth
And this little piece of my hair smells like you
Maybe the darkness between lampposts
Does as well.

Sleigh bells ring in the distance
Of somewhere, I’m sure
Not here; this, instead, is rain slick tires
And my own heart-
Thud, breath, thud
The wind sounds like a kettle.

I am not in love yet
And this, this beautiful normalcy
Is better than any present I could open-
The way you taste like coffee
And blanket me in clean detergent, soap;
A scent of distant spring

Alexandra

2010-01-01T17:04:00.000-08:00

11th

Her jean-clad legs were stretched out
On the rosy concrete; ankles crossed, and
I don’t know how the position was comfortable
In those heels
The pages of the book in her jeweled hand
Were yellowed;
I imagined from a thrift-store paperback stack
“What are you reading?”
The cawing birds seemed more eager to answer
But eventually her halting speech warmed

Most words I recognize,
But she impressed me;
And then our talk of not understanding
Our attachment to the material

Green, green eyes
That seemed used to being startled

The car that pulled up was thumping-
Inside, the man smiling
And I did not like his face
Her hair whipped behind her;
Goodbye.
I wonder how long he’d kept her waiting.

A Bowl Made of Broken Glass

2010-01-01T17:03:00.000-08:00

11th grade

An apology would not be big enough
From me, for us, to you
Two bowls that are sitting in the sun,
Side by side yet empty
Do not have much to give
Besides welcome company

I wanted to be your flame
Heat, and light in the darkness
But the reflected warmth was uncertain;
A candle instead of the sun…
God knows I needed something too

An unfurled flower, a breath held
Winter winds blew my hair
And thoughts blew my mind
Out of nowhere, out of the ice
Broke a waterfall, crystal blue
Flooding me, and I’m beginning to understand
The meaning of “overflow”

So powerful- I am afraid, I admit
Of myself, and you, and of him
It’s like I was a piece of colored glass on the sidewalk;
Thank you for holding it in your palm,
Despite the broken edges
Now there is a chance that other bits
Here and there- green, yellow, violet
Will come together; freely offered glue
Without hesitation, and I am surprised

Outside my window is sunlight
Though the sky is grey as London nights-
The trees look only brighter by comparison

Seventeen Pebbles

2010-01-01T17:00:00.000-08:00

11th

Each year is a stone in my hand
A pebble, inconsequential as a single
Swamp-light flame
But still bright in my eyes-
And smooth

Each has passed through water
Whether pong, or raging river
And they change in color as
The pile grows
One at a time I can fit them in my palm
And one at a time,
I remember

Cause, Effect

2010-01-01T16:58:00.001-08:00

11th

This is the center of my loneliness:
Before him it was simply grey
But now, it is the absence of color
Before him it was longing
For breath on my skin;
Now it is the empty air
He does not occupy

At the Earth's Neck

2010-01-01T16:51:00.000-08:00

11th

I am in a scourge of dusty flame
I am in a dry and fragrant dessert
The flowers unfold; turn their petals to the sun
Just as you unfolded me
And heat, and wind

The city is at my back
A jeweled brooch of light and sound
On the Earth’s breast-
It is heaving, the people with her
And I am feeling smooth skin
On her neck; mountains
And forest, green, and mist

Your eyes are dusty flame

Warm Mountain Tunes

2010-01-01T16:47:00.000-08:00

11th

The smell of leather, cinnamon, and clove fell around me
Like waves, warm and strong
The sound of it blood pounding in my ears
His hands were big, completely closed over mine

This summer could have been any summer
In any hot and muggy place
We were just one drop in a torrent of August rain
And the anonymity of it thrilled me-
The anonymity of him;
I did not even know his name

He knew mine, somehow
And spoke it in a constant drumming
Water on tin roofs, on the tops of cars
I touched his face; my own lingering whispers
Brushing his lips, and eyelashes
With thoughts as butterflies

“Look at the moon,” he said
And it was very close, leering
A clandestine watchmen, a shield, like the body
Angled over mine

His breath was sweet,
And it seemed to bloom flowers, birth vines
That circled my wrists and bound me
Bound me to him, fingers on fingers
Chest to heaving chest

Crickets hummed, and through branches
I could hear cars
A zooming vibrato over asphalt and dirt
The highway we’d taken earlier, singing the mountain tunes
Making up words to the only songs we could
Catch through static

Imagery

2010-01-01T16:45:00.000-08:00

11th

Its funny how
With the setting sun behind
Them, that clump of trees,
Looks just like spilled ink
On top of pale blue, and white
Gold in the afternoon despite
The darkness

Liar, Liar

2010-01-01T16:43:00.000-08:00

11th

You are undeserving of my affection
Cruel, callous, you've disregarded all of it
And left me in a burning state
Of vulnerability;
Yes, I am bitter.

Do not for one second think that I
Will forgive, that I will give in-
That I am telling the truth

Quiet, Waiting

2010-01-01T16:40:00.002-08:00

11th grade

I can’t tell what kind of crazy you are-
If the heat in your eyes is passion,
Or insanity; when your fingers twitch,
Tap erratically and snap
Is it from energy and thought,
The need to move
Or to rend, break, destroy?
I seem to find peace in your bearing,
But is this quiet or waiting?
I almost don’t want to know.

Bob Dylan

2010-01-01T16:40:00.001-08:00

11th grade

He hides a secret behind his lips,
A melody’s smoky reflection
Lives in his eyes

Don’t you taste like chocolate?
Don’t you smell like trees?

I am surrounded by the loud pitch
Of his silver soul
The waves of his words
That touch, and urge me on
Don’t you feel like cotton?
Don’t you watch like hawks?

Opening Night

2010-01-01T16:35:00.000-08:00

11th grade

Your seat will be empty tonight
I know this, yet
Still I’ll search

From the stage my eyes
Will rove, and blink
Against the bright fluorescents
Imagining your white, white teeth
Reflecting the spotlight’s glow

I wouldn’t care if you had flowers,
As long as “sorry” was
On your tongue;
A kiss on your lips

But the mahogany floor,
Mahogany as your skin
Will never know your step
And the gold curtain will never
Be watched by the flecks in your eyes
Just like your heart will never
Settle in my palm

Your seat will be occupied tonight
By a stranger
Applauding with hands I do not know
In an empty, monotonous beat

My Song Does Not Exist

2010-01-01T16:32:00.000-08:00

11th grade

Once upon a time I loved that song
And the boy who hummed it in his sleep
The way his softest sigh could whisper notes;
They would stain the sheets

Now I cannot play that song
Because it reminds me of the boy who’s woken up
With different lyrics coating his tongue; sugar,
And an unwelcome melody

Raining

2010-01-01T16:27:00.000-08:00

11th grade

Moments, glass, snow
Taking with them the last semblance of sanity
My dove wings, hawk wings
Flapping in the fractured air
And lightning without thunder
I’m starting to think only you
Can bring the rain

Chocolate Eyes

2010-01-01T16:25:00.001-08:00

11th grade

I saw your eyes break like glass windows
The liquid inside dripping colored down your cheeks
And I couldn’t help but lift
A shaking finger
To catch a drop of you on my skin
Had it not fell, and absorbed into rich soil
I’d have tasted it; you
Warm like chocolate; you
Me- breaking like glass windows

In the Morning

2010-01-01T16:23:00.001-08:00

11th grade

Restless; I am so restless
I want to pull down the dawn
Like rumpled covers
Or discarded clothes-
Each cloud a cotton trail
Pants, blouse, hidden lace
The sky would be a morning lover
So endless, after all
It seems to wink at me
An invitation to slip off my shoes

Dancing in Stormy Blue Skies

2010-01-01T16:19:00.000-08:00

11th grade

If I could wrap myself
In cool grey storm clouds
I would be comforted;
An observer, watching
The sunlit leaves and smiles
Drifting and changing like wind

Apart I would find truth
Feel it, sprinkle it like salt
Upon the earth, and people
Who wander like I once did
And feel the same shuddering
In their chalky bones

Because observing is safe
Like a crackling flame;
My skin is tired of being burned
And maybe, by watching
I can help you play a different tune

A great vibrating, humming
In the trees and swaying grass
I will dance in the blue sky
Gleeful and elated because
For once, I freed myself

Climbing Upwards

2010-01-01T16:13:00.000-08:00

11th grade

Climbing tree branches
To the very top
I reach
As far as my fingers
Will stretch
And grasp a star

Climbing the sky
To the very top
I breathe
Fresh berries and pine
And watch
The steady moon

Joe's Solo

2010-01-01T16:09:00.000-08:00

summer before 11th

The nighttime is like a helping hand
It’s holding me, shielding me
Protecting me from the light
I want somewhere to hide
Somewhere inside
Somewhere to escape from this bitter reality

Sometimes I wish I could be a little kid again
Staring at everything outside
Searching for the wonder and beauty of life
Not yet exposed to the pain
Oh, how brilliant to just exist
With Popsicle stains on my lips
And a song so easy and off tune
To not judge or be judged
I want to be a kid again,
Just playing in the sun

I think it’s these eyes to blame
A constant headache in my brain
No sleeping in my bed
So maybe I’ll just walk instead
Wander in this wakeful slumber

Sometimes I wish I could be a little kid again
Just passing through with a super hero cape
Believing every truth to be a truth
Not a lying smile to make it through the day
With cookie crumbs on my shirt
And wonder in my heart
I want to be a kid again,
Just playing in the sun

I think instead of an adventure
I’d like a little rest
God, I’m so tired of burning my eyes on the sun
Naptime, playtime, time to be a kid again
….Pretending he can fly

Redundant Mind

2010-01-01T15:22:00.000-08:00

rediscovered; 10th-summer before 11th?

Redundancy is my language now
Thanks to you,
The lingering effects of your words.
It’s amazing how bright they are;
Simple black text that cuts
And makes me want to take it back;
Rewind the hot days,
And lose your address.
But I can’t, I can’t
And you can’t seem to remember.

Holding On To Clouds

2010-01-01T15:19:00.000-08:00

rediscovered; 10th-summer before 11th?

You are floating, on a cloud
I’m with you or
Maybe I’m floating and you
Are holding on
To me, that cloud
Incandescent eastern sky

Babble

2009-12-31T16:12:00.000-08:00

rediscovered; 10th-summer before 11th?

When did the empty babble become shallow writings on bathroom walls?
Don’t bother with self-inflicted sadism
The monstrous masochism
So ironically unknown
Whistling and bells snapping at our heels
Their intention
So bottomless, so brainless
Society, molested by the influx of rot
Charading as brilliance
Genius, such a fallacy
The make believe hides yourself from yourself
From the foggy, cracking mirror
Reflecting out and suggesting in

Clam Shells

2009-12-23T14:44:00.001-08:00

11th grade

My words are short
And so is
The breath
To
Write them-
Gasping, I cling to
The faint and
Pearly dawn;
Breath…

Olive Siren

2009-12-23T14:42:00.000-08:00

11th grade

Lilac hubris
Drifting tendrils
Of smoke, and pewter
I ride
Shuddering waves
Into future, and past
Copper coins
Clattering down
Around us, through us
Choking us
Why forget, cloaked remembrance
I try
Passing it
Insubstantial thought, and eyes
Olive siren

Puppet Strings

2009-12-23T14:33:00.000-08:00

11th

Diabolical puppet master
Is it your sick hobby to pull the strings?
Your strange fetish to watch me dance?
These threads are not as strong;
Not like I imagined
And despite the terrifying pleasure
Your laughter brings
Each tug is unraveling me
And soon I’ll be nothing
But a pile of cotton on the floor

Holding On To Clouds

2009-12-23T14:32:00.001-08:00

summer before 11th

You are floating, on a cloud
I’m with you or
Maybe I’m floating and you
Are holding on
To me, that cloud
Incandescent eastern sky

Paving Possibility

2009-12-23T14:30:00.000-08:00

summer before 11th

Your name is stuck in my throat
Covered with sugar, and blood, and possibility
I wish I could form this road
With my hands
Shape the dirt and gravel,
Black sticky tar
And softly I would blow it dry,
Singing your name all the while
My lips coated with sugar, and blood
Paving this path in possibility

Midnight Shine

2009-12-23T14:28:00.000-08:00

summer before 11th

Why should I stifle this light?
Where is a surface to reflect its glow?
Or maybe too long in the dark
And needing batteries;
Where do I go
From here and there
In the gathering shadows
And midnight shine

An Ember Left

2009-12-23T14:26:00.000-08:00

summer before 11th

You could see it in my eyes
If you thought to look
Bright and obvious, I’m sure
The way my skin tingles,
A visible companion
To a simple brushing hand

So easily you could control me
What kind of freedom is there
To gain? Not a key
Existing I could hold
Nothing made of you

At least
Lean a little closer
And tell me;
Are you filled?
I want to know the inside colors
What’s behind your eyelids
When you sleep, dreaming
I would create the distant suns
If possible an ocean
On a silver platter
If it only meant a word
Of comfort, just something small
A grain of sand to cling to
Cradled in my empty palms

Is this fitting, these words?
As grazing as they can be
I know much more would turn
Inconstant, a fool’s rambling

After all
I don’t have much more
Then that
And an ember

Changing Color

2009-11-17T20:33:00.000-08:00

summer before 11th

I’m tired of hiding
In bathrooms, and crying
On the floor
Over things I can’t control
Your skinny arms
Felt strong, around me
Surprising in a hug
So abrupt
I inhaled; your smell is warm
Like your eyes when
They change color

Upwards

2009-11-10T18:10:00.000-08:00

11th grade.

Climbing tree branches
To the very top
I reach
As far as my fingers
Will stretch
And grasp a star

Climbing the sky
To the very top
I breathe
Fresh berries and pine
And watch
The steady moon

Dancing in Stormy Blue Skies

2009-11-10T18:07:00.000-08:00

11th grade.

If I could wrap myself
In cool grey storm clouds
I would be comforted;
An observer, watching
The sunlit leaves and smiles
Drifting and changing like wind

Apart I would find truth
Feel it, sprinkle it like salt
Upon the earth, and people
Who wander like I once did
And feel the same shuddering
In their chalky bones

Because observing is safe
Like a crackling flame;
My skin is tired of being burned
And maybe, by watching
I can help them play a different tune

A great vibrating, humming
In the trees and swaying grass
I will dance in the blue sky
Gleeful and elated because
For once, I freed myself

Ending October

2009-11-05T18:04:00.000-08:00

11th grade.

The heavy darkness pounds
My expectant shoulders;
Wooden steps are smooth under my feet
And I feel the smoky grey murmurs rattle in my ears
Like toy soldiers

Pulled into the mess of bodies
I try to meet your eyes-
Red, elated, and filling me with nighttime
Your arms drape around my shoulders and I
Move with your hips and music notes
Trying to breathe the pigments of your skin

Spinning, spinning, spinning
I want to fly
But instead we collapse,
The palm of your hand a painter’s pallet
Washing me in reds and violet water
That pulls us away
I rejoice in the current, and your steps

With your fingers on mine and our smiles so close
I feel drenched in honey
You, everything about you
Is rich and bronze- voice, disposition, gait
I could easily submerge myself;
Drown with bliss in my eyes
But your hair is soft and dark as the sky around us,
So instead I’m lifted
My heart encouraging my words with
Hesitant flutters
Drumming like nervous fingers on a table

It’s almost a dance again
The spinning, spinning
In and around my head
Your lips are breathing me in;
I feel like a dandelion you picked-
Please make a wish,
Blowing pieces of me to the wind.
I’m against you, tasting honey
And it’s like I’ve began to fly.

Forty Miles

2009-11-05T18:03:00.000-08:00

11th grade.

The distant sun whispers
Promises of golden rock,
And an ever-constant dawn.
Stretch your soul to fill the spaces
Left by agony.
Invite the people in to watch with you;
Lift up your melodic voices-
Unified, to fill the spaces
Left by lonely silence.

Song of Autumn

2009-11-05T18:01:00.000-08:00

11th grade.

In the silence of azure oceans
You and I feed each other strings
Of raw pumpkin
Seasoning the meat with autumn kisses
Riding the waves of change
And the heartbeats of smiling pines-
Like us, nodding proudly to the crisp air
Feeling the youthful wind wave a greeting
Our fall parade flags

Hark! Steal phrases from the dusty books
In mausoleums,
Hurrah and hurray to the aburgine fields
And dance a “wild abandon” to gourd-skin drums
Find us there, opening pumpkin seeds with our teeth
Sit down a while- we’ve got pecan wine
That will last out nap ‘till winter.

The Tap on My Window

2009-09-20T12:19:00.000-07:00

11th grade.

When the wax has dried, puddled and low;
Waiting, I intertwine my fingers
Feeling the empty air between,
Echoed in the whisper of my lips
Such caramel tones, smooth-
Resting my hands on my knees,
I imagine yours

A tap on the window and I,
I welcome the wine soaked darkness
The moon riding her back
Just as I too would explore;
Your shoulder blades like handles, or wings
And the stars I would find as well
Freckles on your neck and hips

Would the ocean roar in our ears, white and strong?
Solidity is long gone as I climb the oak tree of your stomach
Twirl my hand in leaves
And stare across distant deserts
The ground below me where things grow

I am lost in the forest your kisses create
I am plucking an apricot and biting its skin,
Sweet juice coating my tongue

I am writhing in the warm soil your rhythm upturns
Curling my toes in the crumbling earth
Beside the root and rock

And then, in the glow of falling comets,
I am dancing.

Remembering Flower Chains

2009-09-20T12:02:00.000-07:00

11th grade.

Eyes like honey make me remember
A past of faded ribbons,
Tied around a treasured stack of envelopes;
Soft from use, caressing fingers, nighttime sighs

Glowing skin brings me back to candlelight,
Wavering like hesitant words
Setting silk on fire
In an unbalanced imagery of matter,
Over mind.

You are the symphony I stir into my tea
The red cherries of my cheeks
I feel you behind my eyes,
Like an exhausted migraine,
Melting chocolate on my tongue

You are ocean, droplet, sweating glass
You are pasture, blade, flower chain-
Binding my wrists
And pulling me away from sleep

Threadbare

2009-09-20T12:01:00.000-07:00

11th grade.

The resigned elastic pop and brush-burned hands,
Seem so lazy in comparison.
Your shoes in a cloud of smoke
Looking as lost as I feel tonight-
Reminds me why I’m here,
And why I never intended in the first place…

I compose a sonnet on your breast
Violent as the pillagers of innocent towns,
Raping my eyes;
And my hands are virgins,
My fingers the wind in trees.

The language is false, the sighs lie
And so do we;
In the agony we anticipate
Living in bitterness like my tongue
And your tongue, branches
Barbed wire;
So lazy in comparison

That’s all we are
A consecrated lack of effort;
Piles and piles of threadbare towels absorbing
Stagnant water, yellowed tile
But choked with the scent of air freshener

We go on.

Silver Branches

2009-09-20T12:00:00.000-07:00

11th grade.

The wind is sorrowful on my tongue,
Bitter and sweet as wine;
Dripping new from silver branches.

My Cold Remnants

2009-09-20T11:59:00.000-07:00

11th grade.

The pavement is wet with rain and god-knows what else;
Reflecting artificial light, white and neon.
Where is the moon?
Maybe she hides from the debauchery,
Shielding her faint eyes.
I search and search-
My silver shoes look like plastic,
And I feel the same way.
The moon is real, and I miss her purity.

Glass window panes are dotted with drops of water,
And they glow with the world’s reflection
Imitation stars I press my tired head against,
Cold.
But stars are burning flame,
As far from me as passion.

I sleep and dream of heat,
And my hat on the ground is a planet;
The center in a solar system of cigarette butts
Broken glass and the remnants
Of god-knows what else.

Minus Ten Minutes at Midnight

2009-09-20T11:58:00.000-07:00

11th grade.

Stuck until eleven,
I’m pulled up and down
Suction-cupped in a cloudy brass elevator.
You didn’t drive tonight,
But the one with the thick sideburns
Who chain-smokes, and
I don’t trust his eyes.

The paperback has turned sweaty
In my hand,
Clutching it with no intention to buy;
Unopened, because I shy away
The words bigger than mine and more terrifying-
I’d crack it and crack too.

Go with him, if you want
With his yellow sweat-stained shirt
And leering lips.
I could live in the quiet here
Dancing only in my head
Running without moving from your stars
And park benches,
The fake life more preferable.

Meth-Lab Fireworks

2009-09-20T11:57:00.000-07:00

11th grade.

They’re like meth-lab fireworks,
The words you utter
Explosions from your mouth to eyes
I cannot hide my body’s shudder
Shaking down my wasted thighs
A cocaine trail that’s rainbow bright
Golden coins you toss and spin
Until the night corrodes the day and
Reminds us where the stars begin

Little lights behind my eyes
Bursts of unchecked purple, grey
Loosing words down toilet drains
The things I don’t know how to say
Are you real and are you gone?
Or are you fake and ever-present?
I can’t decide, my head is boggled
Blinded by incandescence

No Road

2009-09-20T11:56:00.001-07:00

11th grade.

Tonight’s a night for love
Like moonlight, in the shadows
Unrequited as a song
That’s left silent
Lyrics lost, empty
Without the hope of even one
Note, hit exact as a shooting star
Instead it’s more like tripping
Head over heels, I’ve lost my feet
Nothing left but to crawl;
Why bother trying to walk,
When there’s no road

Melting Autumn Stars

2009-07-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

summer after 10th

A silence profound,
Yet smooth in its simplicity.
I sit beneath an ink-drenched sky
Trying to catch the frozen stars in my fist
Music plays throughout my mind
An inward tune I’m humming with

You remind me of those hopscotch days
Ring around the rosy and a summer.
Sunset.
Wind.
Chimes, my voice joins in.
Lifting the curious fingers away from desert sand,
Into something more like pudding
And less like grief.

Take a walk;
Watch the collecting bells with me
A symphony of fire and flaking paint
Red under your fingernails
I want to remember,
Sitting here in the yellow midnight fall;
I caught a melting star in my fist

Yes, Captain

2009-07-07T21:30:00.001-07:00

summer after 10th

The desert sand is hot
Burning with the same heat as fear;
Threatening to consume the steady soul
But with a love,
Stronger than the sea
Beating in your heart
It’s possible to look toward
The endless sky, unyielding blue
And find hope
Stronger than the sea

Morning Haiku

2009-07-07T21:29:00.000-07:00

my first haiku; summer after 10th

Little birds at dawn
Lift the sun back to the clouds
Flying high and free

Someday Flight

2009-07-07T21:28:00.002-07:00

Rediscovered; I have absolutely no idea. Sometime between 9th and 10th.

You have to close your eyes to see the stars
Because this town isn’t very bright these days
In tones of sepia and grey;
I imagine the sun in your hair

What if we could fly?
We’d find the colors in the sky
And maybe things would change a little

I pretend to see what isn’t there
Do you understand the story?
Hopefully you’ll know the rain as well as me

One day we’ll see

Global Warming

2009-07-07T21:28:00.001-07:00

Recently rediscovered corniness; 10th grade.

People talk of global warming
Everyone’s unclear
Why are all the ice-caps melting?
Is doomsday almost here?

I don’t know much about increasing heat
Or if cold winters are no more
But there are of a few things
That I’m completely sure

When I wake up I yawn a lot
And can’t get out of bed
I’m clumsy, and if I stand too fast
I’ll surely hit my head

The dew on the grass outside is wet
And that grass is green;
Everyday occurrences,
The likes of these I’ve seen

And though I’m not sure about science
Problems great and small
I do know two truths for sure
More honest than them all

The clear sky on a sunny day
Is a bright and piercing blue
And so often as my heart beats,
It’s beating just for you

Shadow in the Glade

2009-07-07T21:26:00.000-07:00

Recently re-discovered; written in 9th.

A shadow,
It crept along
Behind me
Through me
A soft velvet shadow
Like a cloud of roses
Welcoming me
Warming me

A dark, poisoned shadow
Its venom seeped through the air
Around me
Over me
I ran from the shadow
Over mountains
Through great oceans
Across the world
Around the universe

The dark shadow became just the past
Something to fear only in dreams
A small blotch on my memory
A small blotch in my heart
I was safe from the shadow
In a green haven I rested
Soft grass, for months
Soft grass, for years

The shadow found me
Unexpected on a sunny day
It stared
It smiled
It beckoned
Welcoming me
Poisoning me

And gladly
I welcomed it back

Electronic Insides

2009-06-10T11:19:00.000-07:00

Summer after 10th grade.

When I see you I feel sick
But not from harm or foul
Something about your grin,
Thrown back arm
Makes my lungs press pause;
I don’t remember trading
Steaming insides for
Electronics
But there you go-
Regardless only counts in love.

Why is it that I push and push
But carry away just this
Feeling of stupidity?
Sometimes, I think maybe
My mind regrets me
And I agree,
Wholeheartedly-
But wait;
How can that be correct,
That whole
When something, astronomical, agonizing
Is missing? Missing?

Hmm, this electronic stuff
Could possibly work
If I could trade my heart
For a microwave, toaster
Something equally harmless

Fast forward, rewind, pause.

I think I’m calling Apple
In the morning-
If your face gives me any sleep

Falling Notes

2009-06-10T11:08:00.000-07:00

Summer after 10th grade.

The music, a wash of red
On the watercolor hill;
He is alone
In a wind like sugar
Playing to the cotton sky
The notes melt warmly on his lips
Making him remember
And then a sound- crunching leaves
Feet in morning grass
And inclination of his head;
The first thing he sees is hair
So fresh, in his mind like dew
Or maybe tears

The silence is a tornado;
Background music, now
An orchestra of memory
His calloused hand is outstretched,
Welcoming; but still
All he can see is
Her hair in the wind
Purple twilight falling,
Like strummed chords and snow

Classic Postcards and Red Wine

2009-06-10T11:07:00.000-07:00

Summer after 10th.

You turn me into just another old cliché;
In my mind the scene is black and white-
Gloved hands gripping a classic hat.
Nervously, we’re meeting on a dock
Or, perhaps, beneath the Eifel Tower
Depending on the film;
A red carnation on your pinstriped breast
But still, I knew you anyway
Just on sight;
A certain taste in the air,
And a smile that was easy to imagine.

A bottle of wine; candles glowing yellow
On the china plates
I’d use my salad fork for chicken
While a piano man, playing softly in the back
Would urge us to dance
A waltz long forgotten
By pounding modern lights

Humphrey Bogart knew how to play the game,
A sly cigarette in parted lips
And Ingrid Bergman had the prettiest eyes,
Even without color.

There’s a stack of postcards on my bookshelf
Sealed for another three or ten
Despite the odds and circumstance,
I’m such the idealistic dreamer
And you, you could be the flower in my hair

Because on a day like this,
We’d be counting clouds
And reading poems to the birds
I’d probably even hold your hand,
If you decided to squeeze back

The gold glow behind the trees reminds me
Of just how much I’m missing.
I can only think in words
That sound like old clichés
The classic postcards under my pillow
Make me dream the taste of red wine in black and white

Measuring Distance

2009-06-10T11:04:00.001-07:00

Summer after 10th.

I can easily appreciate the imagery
Of a creamy envelope scrawled across
With spirals of black ink
And a postage stamp, closed
In an invisible pair of lips
Still warm, maybe
From my parting sigh
But more so, I think
I would appreciate the imagery
Of an oceanless beach
A quick, dry hop from here to there
And your hand in my hand;
Not pressed against a cold, dividing glass

Traces

2009-06-10T10:57:00.000-07:00

Summer after 10th.

I would if I could;
Trace your smile with my fingertips
Feel your lips moving in a whisper
A song maybe,
Flickering on my skin
Like a flame
Burning in a breathe, a breathe, a breathe
Gathering velvet in the corners of my mind
I’m searching the mirror of your eyes
Blinking, blinking
Just a little hope- I would if I could

Vocal Vegetation

2009-06-10T10:56:00.000-07:00

Summer after 10th.

The creaking cadence of your voice
Your lips, whispering, wood
Playing tricks in a forest,
The concrete, the couch
Such a close-range headache;
Unnecessary touches,
When ferns grow between your teeth

It Wouldn’t Hurt

2009-06-04T17:10:00.000-07:00

Summer after 10th.

Today I feel so heavy
My shoulders aching under the weight of my head
Skin, too tight for my body
An unpleasant smell in my nose
Sometimes I wonder if the constant holding on,
My arms wrapped double around my waist
Trying to keep it inside;
But my fingers are sore

What if I could fly?
Had wings to bring me through the clouds
Arms outstretched and freedom flowing
Through my fingertips

Thoughts, maybe they’re too polluted
And I’m choking in my sleep
A little flying, yes;
It wouldn’t hurt
Not at all
Not like the weight of my mind
No, not at all.

Before the Breakup

2009-06-04T17:09:00.000-07:00

10th grade; This title is accurate- I found the poem tonight. It was something I'd written about three weeks before my ex and I broke up. I never got the chance to give it to him.

Maybe this will pull us closer,
Instead of keeping us apart
Though I don’t think that’s really possible;
You’re so deep inside my heart.

Just remember everything I do,
I try because I care
I just want to make you happy
Since in that happiness I share

Life sure isn’t perfect
The contrary is a lie
People have their ups and downs
They yell, and scream, and cry

But I’ve had a realization
And it’s made things pretty clear
All the bad times that we suffer
Make us appreciate what’s dear

I know romance without a flaw
Isn’t very real at all
And the true test of a love
Is picking the pieces, broken in a fall

The glue we have is stronger than the trails we will endure
It’s made from love and kindness
From a passion true and sure

So even if we argue,
Feel disappointed, have a fight
I know what we’ve got is bigger
Then any darkness in our light

I’m confident and have no fear
We’ll safely pass on through
Despite the pain that life can bring-
As long as I have you

Lament

2009-06-04T12:34:00.001-07:00

10th grade; this piece of fiction here was almost a sonnet...

I can hear the sound of distant bells
Golden in the early morning air
Footsteps on the sand and waves and shells
‘Moment that’s both singular and rare
Captures me with breath from parted lips,
Voice as clear as any green springtime
Feet so used to walking wood on ships
Finally a ‘couple days are mine
Hand in hand we make the sunshine last
Trying to extend the velvet night
Lingering is thoughts of skin and past
Hands intertwined are warm and tight
I wait, knowledge of that siren call
From the ocean thick with salty brine
Vulnerable as a porc’lin doll
Is that heart belonging, yours and mine
But despite the pain we say farewells
Morning’s bittersweet like golden bells

The Passing of Time

2009-06-04T10:18:00.001-07:00

10th grade

The days are catching up to me;
Bitter in their repetition,
And stagnant in their change.
It's been so long, so quickly.
Just look at whats been left behind.
Hard.
So hard to believe.

Nervous and Pretending

2009-06-02T19:15:00.001-07:00

10th grade

The water of the gene pool is murky
Almost making me wish I’d been born with a boat, to cross.
Still, even with an impenetrable chromosome wall
I can’t help but want to wrap my fingers in your curls.
So soon, and I’m lost in your presence
Worrying that the fumbled words will come out wrong;
And if I look too long-
Would I be making myself clear?
Already, my face is hot and flushed against your chest
A little smile when you told me goodbye.
I just wish it wasn’t so misplaced
Things stuttering, just like the air I breathe in
Sharing it with you;
The disbelieving heart in my chest
Hopefully not too far down my sleeve,
Not yet.
The thought makes me nervous,
Sweating between my shoulder blades.

But I still want the chance,
To wrap my fingers in your curls.
I’m fabulous at pretending.

Solidity

2009-06-02T19:12:00.000-07:00

10th grade

I don’t think you’ll ever understand the astronomical effect.
After all, wasn’t I just fleeting?
Warm winter in cold, cold spring
I left my mark;
It’s you who’s unprepared to look.
Time is slippery,
Such a sneaky snake;
Reminding me of someone else,
More ways than the obvious.
Was I your shoulder or your sleeve?
Tears and snot are a product of the same
Such a thin line between the was and is.
You’re like sand under my feet;
What happened to the stone?
I’ve forgotten the feeling of solidity.
How’s the color of your grass now?
Green, maybe, like you expected.
The paint is still wet on the blades behind my fence,
Shifting colors I can barely recognize.
You said it was you, not me
And I finally believe it;
The truth of it, a plastic baby in the cake.
What happened to innocence?
A rubber ball under our feet;
We used to play so many games.

Scent

2009-06-02T19:09:00.000-07:00

10th grade

Two people
Equal beating hearts
Playing a game of withered words
Such a waste, really
When you’re so alive
I think it’s time to move on;
Otherwise
It would be clinging
To a mere idea
Or maybe
A scent

Aching Now

2009-06-02T19:03:00.000-07:00

10th grade

Those inconsequential minutes,
I remember them so well
Single frames in time that simply explode now
Your face in my hands
I can still feel the soft skin’s texture;
I close my eyes now
The softness of your hair may as well be in my fingers

“My kiss, right here forever,” you said.
I know the truth now
The voice that made my hearts flutter,
Makes it break now

I’m finding ways to cope,
Life so different now
So far away, but I wonder where you are now
It’s certainly a change,
A brand new game,
Terrified to remember now
Aching, at the thought of forgetting

La La Life

2009-06-02T19:01:00.000-07:00

10th grade; intended song; something Backseat Goodbye would sing.

The sun is shining through my window
It smiled and said to steal some gas,
Take you on a long, long ride
I liked the idea of your hair in the wind
The sunglasses I always borrow
So I stole you away, too, and stole us some time

Lala life, I gotta love it
Lala life, we're living it
Lala love, you gotta see it in my eyes

The moon is shining on the dash
Telling me to grab your hand,
Take you dancing in the long, long grass
I liked the idea of your hair in my hands
Those pretty eyes behind the sunglasses
So I stole you away, and stole myself a kiss

Lala life, I gotta love it
Lala life, we're living it
Lala love, you gotta see it in my eyes

Maybe this could be a permanent change
The two of us, hands swingin’ in between
Sliding through the nighttime
Somewhere between the sun and the moon

Lala life, I gotta love it
Lala life, we're living it
Lala love, you gotta see it in my eyes

Over the Ironic Sea

2009-06-02T19:00:00.000-07:00

10th grade.

Grab your boats, men
And we’ll set sail
In our quaint little canoes of conformity
Over blue waves of stifled speech;
White crystal crests of oppression

Whole-heartedly we embrace
The brisk wind of settling
Exits crumbling at our feet,
We dance on freedom’s grave

There- in the distance!
An island,
Where we can tie our wrists like a puppet
Wooden and whittled down
To something sociably pleasing

We can only smile at the thought,
Of ignoring the world around
Focusing instead on the perfectly-petty
Oblivious of lighting and blood

A safe little box is so lovely
Oh, our destination, we’re here!
Minds have been shrunk to a peanut
Free thinking, unfathomable
Not stolen- surrendered
In a crisp exchange for shining lies
And a handful of false hopes;
That we gleefully clutch to our chest

Innocent hearts, blindly beating
Not even aware of what we’ve given up

Questions

2009-06-02T18:59:00.000-07:00

Rediscovered in 10th grade; written sometime in 7th.

It was enigma
An unsolvable problem,
Of epic proportions
The question hung in the sky
Seemingly ringed by flames
Shining like fire
It was the same question that thumped,
In everyone’s mind
Like a steady bass
A constant drumming in our hearts
The very air was vibrating
With the force of it
Who would decide the outcome?
How would it all end?
Eyes that had once been empty
Filled with thought and wonder.

Woodsmoke

2009-04-13T21:11:00.000-07:00

10th grade.

A little nausea never hurt anyone
At least, it hasn't me
The unfamiliar fingertips
Grazing knuckles on my skin
Taking turns we kneaded necks
Reclining chest, hair and hands
Firelight's heat pulsing on my side,
And that cold breeze shifting my skirt
Your chin next to my cheek,
My cheek next to your hair
It's been such a long, long time
Wood-smoke and tobacco
One flavored puff
The smell still in my hair
I breathe it in and feel
The warmth, the beating of your heart
Against my skull
And it's like I could have just stayed
My hands on your knees
Sparks scattering in the sky
Words peppering the air, a muffled laugh
Easily I could have stretched a little higher
And kissed you, just like that
Upside down
Your knuckles still grazing my neck

Private Tour of the Art Building

2009-04-13T21:10:00.002-07:00

10th grade.

It was instantaneous
One glace that turned into a stare-
A slouchy pose that still held grace,
A slender hand, slender cigarette
Curls that were a backdrop to chance
Fate carried on a nimble tread

I rode my pretense like a board
Luckily, you set sail too
The sky unfolded and you asked my name
An endearment, sugar on your lips

Unraveling banter back and forth
Chivalry that took me by surprise
Maybe, maybe your direction was a pretense too

You skipped down the step and made me tremble
You slid down the banister and stole my heart
Unwittingly, one swift motion
I wanted that goodbye to be hello

Rebellion

2009-04-13T21:10:00.001-07:00

10th grade.

You could be my rebellion.
I also wouldn't mind
If, perhaps, you were something more
But then again, with who we are
Rebellion would be more fitting
Suitable, even
The contradiction there is laughable
So is the impossible thought of you,
Being my rebellion

A Whispered Happy Birthday

2009-04-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

10th grade.

I woke up,
Hearing the silence of a forgotten song
One that would have been sung
In your soft, unsteady tremble
How my morning would have been

Another year to look forward to
Lacking the sweet embrace I’ve come to hate
It haunts my ears throughout the day
Echoing, a ghost behind the others’
Joyful voices that just aren’t enough

How do I blame you,
Without giving away the credit
It’s an impossibility and a plague
The forgotten song under my skin
Just a whispered “happy birthday” and your name