thunderstorms starting, lightning striking.

Thunderstorms started, lightning struck. 

My voice, broken. 

My voice, swelling with tears. 

My voice, gone. 

My cheeks were stained with rivers of salty water. 

My eyes cloudy with blackened tears. 

My body shaking. 

My heart aching. 

Everything in a million pieces. 

Nights became long, and lonely. 

Too lonely to be exact. 

Things got dark. 

Darker than when my eyes were closed. 

My body became weak, and my headed pounded with thoughts of your blue eyes looking at someone else's. 

The only silver lining I had was the silver blade between my fingertips. 

The sharp edges. 

The overwhelming desire to be numb filled me. 

The pain felt great, almost like I was with you again. 

Skin became red, and covered for days. 

When someone's fingertips brushed against my skin, and pain shocked throughout my body-almost like it was on fire. 

Then I realized something. 

You were the silver lining that brought so much pain. 

You were the silver lining that was actually covered in dirt. 

You weren't anything I needed. 

I needed something more. 

I needed myself. 

I needed nights in a full face of makeup. 

I needed nights with music blaring. 

I needed nights with friends. 

I needed nights with laughter and cheeks that hurt. 

I needed night with my own clothes-without your approval. 

I started life over, a found my old self and I'm happy again. 

I started wanting to be myself again. 

I started to wear a real smile, and my happiness. 

I started to realize it all again. 

I realized life isn't about fake love, and half smiles. 

I realized I didn't need a boy. I need a man. 

I realized I need love. 

I realized I need true and not fake. 

I need laughs, and real sleep. 

I needed a lot and I'm slowly gettin there. 

New friends, and everything else. I have it. 

It almost seems like my life is together. 

Honey, never settle for a man who isn't going to want to brush his teeth with you or stops dead in his tracks when he sees you without make up on. 

Who watches in amazement when you're doing your makeup and getting dressed in that all black uniform for work. 

Someone who is proud to call you his. 

Because everyday shouldn't start with 

Thunderstorms starting, and lightning striking. 

Okay.

Okay. Just hear me out real quick. Imma mess I know, and a world you don't know. I am a continuous full baggage claim of all my problems, and I may take on too much sometimes. I have a couple of devils sitting on my shoulder, and angel locked in a cage in the back of my head-all telling me good and bad intentions on how to living a "normal" life. My life isn't ever going to be "normal". I wake up everyday with a struggle, and a new ladder to climb...and what looks like a grain of sand to you, is a couple mountains to me. I know I'm a handful-I told you that. You said you wanted to know, and I let you in and you ran..you've left just like everyone else did when you said you wouldn't. The moment you uttered the words "let me think", my heart sank. There is something about you that I want to know more. I want to see every side of you, get to know your habits, your reasonings, your mannerisms. Something pulls me in and I don't know what, I'm not sure why, and I sure has hell doing know exactly what I'm doing-writing this-but let me tell you a few things. I can be a thunderstorm in a desert, or a tornado in a small town, but I will love you more then you have ever been loved. You know why? Because I know what it is like to not be loved enough, not wanted, not cared for. I know what it is like to be alone. My heart, my mind, my body, and my soul are all for someone special-but I learn new lessons along the way. The night I sat in your living room, kissed your lips, and listened to your voice-I was okay-but, as soon as I left, I knew something wasn't right. What in the hell is so damn wrong with me? I know I'm strong, determined, possibly crazy, beautiful, passionate, and caring..but I also know I am lovable. But I just want to be loved by you. I can't get you out of my head right now..I wait for your name to pop up on my phone, but I know it never will. But just remember you are the one that wanted in. You are the one that wanted to know it all. You are the one who asked. I said no, and you kept asking-so I told you, and you ran...just tell me what I did so damn wrong. I'll just hear you out. Okay.

Two Players, One Winner...Me.

Most games you need two people.

But, oh honey, I don't need you. 

Here is to another year on the calendar of my new "birth-year" starting off like hell, and this one is thanks to you. 

A big, fat, loud, THANK YOU. 

Why don't you shove that crown up your ass a little farther and not tell me how it feels. 

Because, I don't care. 

Hell, I'll help you. 

Maybe I'll twist it around like you did with the knife in my back, or the strings you tied to my wrists. 

You put me in a pretty robe, gave me a lesser horse, and a smaller crown and called me your friend. 

You blinded me, and I thought I found another forever friend.

Oops, was I well mistaken. 

You found your so called Prince, over a faintly lit screen and a wireless telephone. 

You asked for your courts approval, it was given, and you blew a gasket. 

All hell broke loose. 

Let's play. 

I may look as if I'm a tiny mouse. 

A mouse your horse is afraid of, honey. 

That crown, is filled with air, that comes out of your ass, which you also blow up other people's asses. 

So, please do your court a favor and stick your nose in the air a little higher. 

Soon, no one will be there to hold your soap box up, and all you'll have is an empty bag of chips. 

Enough of my time, tears, money, laughs, and cares have been spent upon you. 

I'm done. 

A weight is gone. 

I'm happy. 

My life is loud again. 

I can scream and shout, without being summoned to a corner. 

When your Prince shows to just be a Jester, don't come crawling back. 

Cause you can't, honey. 

That bridge burned along time ago, and that path is a burning hell. 

Most games need two people. 

But, oh honey, I don't need you. 

I win. 

Middle Of A Memory.

You left me in the middle of a memory.
A heart filled, tear stained memory.
As my tires hit the 20 minuet long road from your house to mine.
I knew.
I knew it was over.
The relationship, memories, and everything yet to come.

It was all left behind me.
There you were: on your couch.
Blank stare on your face.
Three words are all your lips formed: "I don't know."
A couple pictures and my heart filled words ripped to shreads.
They found a new home in a black bag.
That's where I would be found too.

A black bag, a black room, a black hole.
Soon it started becoming brighter again; and then all of a sudden it was blinding.
Your number scrolled across my screen, like it never left.
You came back.
I believe all of your apologizes.
I'm trying so damn hard to understand.
We've both changed over the past three and half months.
I'm glad you're getting better.
I am too, I know you're happy for me.
But damn.
Damn did I miss you.
Damn am I confused.
Damn do I want it all back.
I never stopped loving you.
I never stopped wanting you.
And you told me the same.

Now you tell me you need me, and need my help.
You say you do and don't want a new and reformed relationship.
I just want to be here for you.
Even if it is just as a friend.

I wish.
I wish I could just be your drug.
Your rock.
I wish we could start over.
Continue on, though.
I wish my head would stop spinning.
Tears would quit knotting in the back of my throat.
I wish I could figure this out.
Figure us.
Figure me.
I wish we could just be done.
Skip the trial.

But I vow to you.
I vow to you that I will be here every step of them way.
No matter how much your words hurt.
No matter how bad I want you.
No matter how much I cry.
No matter how long it takes.
I will wait. I will be here.
I never stopped loving you.
I just can't seem to get that through your head.
I love you.

I love you, S.
Forever and for always.
But for now.
But for now.

A god damn memory I don't want is all you are.
A stupid little memory in the back of your mind is all I am.
As we figure this out.
You figure it out.

You left me in the middle of a memory.
A heart filled, tear stained memory.

Locked Up

Locked up.
Stuck.
Captured.
What is captured, you ask?
My world.
My thoughts, and feelings.
My love for myself.
My hopes and dreams.
All of it, held hostage.

It's all held hostage by not being.
Being accepted, and pressured.
Not pressured by drugs and such.
Not pressured by sex or lust.
Pressured by my own world.
Pressured by my own life.
Pressured by my own worries.

It is honestly lonely.
How is pressure lonely?
It is because I don't have anyone there.
Anyone to help hold this pressure up.
My shoulders, they aren't broad or strong enough.

Wait.
What am I doing?

I'm tired.
Tired of living this way.
Stuck, Captured, and Locked up.
My heart, shoudlers, and hands are tired.
Tired of holding that rock, or the umbrealla in the calm of the storm.

I'm just a little lost, but I will eventually get there.
Why? How?
With you next to me.

a confusing interruption

A confusing interruption.
That's what you are.
I was wonderfully happy until your name appeared.
You just waltzed right in without a warning.
Scrawled across my screen; that single letter, not even your name.
It hurt too much.
Why did you deserve your name, of all things, to be written in my phone, if I couldn't be written into your life?
Be the goal you worked towards and wanted.
Like you promised.

But that didn't matter.
It didn't for the last 2 and a half months.
All that mattered was the new girl, and how you felt.
I was shit to you.
I wasn't even worth the mud on the bottom of your boots.

Life for me became better, and brighter.
After I left the dark depths of my purple sheets we once shared.
The blackened room your laugh used to fill.
And the hole in my heart that you had filled only temporarily.

Things began to change, and so did I.
I stared to go out with friends, become a social butterfly.
Believe it or not, I tried drinking.
It didn't last long, a couple sips, and I couldn't bare the taste.
The burn. The horrible smell.
I've been to a couple parties here and there.
And as bad as it sounds, I slept in a couple beds that didn't belong to me.
I drove to Moscow for a couple dumb reasons.
Had
I've spent too much time staying up late, and worrying about how contoured my cheeks were.
But I needed something to fill the void.
The void of you being gone, and me being alone.reL
You had her.
You had someone to hold at night, to love and joke with.
You had someone to share everything we used to do together with.
You had her lips to kiss.
You had her hand to hold.
You had her to call baby.
You had it all.

I had memories that are fading and I'm not so sure are real anymore or not.
I had that pit of my stomach in knots.
I had restless nights filled with empty wishes and full tears.
I had everything you didn't, because you had her.

I look back now and realize that maybe things were meant to be with us apart.
Maybe things just were right at the wrong time.
Maybe this was just a test.
Maybe you were just a confusing interruption.

You did teach me some valuable lessons, and showed happier ways.
You made me believe I was beautiful for just a few short six months.
You also taught me I'm strong enough to get through anything that comes my way, even if the wrong people are around.

You still cross my mind.
Maybe it's certain words that are said.
Maybe it's a picture your mom posts on Facebook.
It could be a truck that is the same color, or make.
It could be the way someone's laugh sounds like yours or the mention of the same name.
Maybe it's something I'm doing that brings back a memory.
Maybe it's these purple sheets I love so dearly that you have a pillowcase that belongs to them.

Who knows what it is.
Maybe it's a mystery.
Maybe it is because you are thinking about me and the reason I'm loosing sleep at night is because you're dreaming of me.

All I know, is you still cross my mind.
And I don't know if I crossed yours because your single, and you missed me.
Maybe because I am the one for you.
But right now, I know that if you ever needed anything or anyone, I'd be there in a heartbeat.
No matter how much I swear I hate you when I'm crying.
How I blame things on you.
How I hate something now because of you.
How my heart is still mending its self together piece,
by piece,
by piece.
How my life and world was flipped upside down because of you, after I got everything glued back together and arranged on the shelves again.

But.
But, no matter what.
You.
S, You.
You will always be a confusing interruption.

A confusing interruption.
That's what you are.

Upside down and inside out.

Upside down and inside out.
Upside down is a new direction.
Inside out is a new direction.
New directions without you.
I headed North, home for 20 minuets.
Tear filled eyes, hoarse throat.
You locked me out.
Goodbye.

July 5th, 2:48 A.M.

The first hour was the worst.
I cried, sweating, on the cold bathroom floor.
The floor colder than your heart you claimed is gold.
I thought was gold.

July 5th, 3:48 A.M.

I was finally able to lay in bed without you.
My cheeks torn apart my tears and snot.
The inside of my t-shirt filled with mascara stains.

July 5th, 4:48 A.M.

Days passed without you.
Along with hours, seconds, and deep breathes.
I slowly began eating.
I began listening.
I began drying my tears and tearing myself away from the purple sheet we used once to share.

July 12th, 12:01 P.M.

I drive away from your house for the last time.
Dirt flying from behind the spinning tires.
Music thumping from speakers.
My life behind me.
Everything good I once knew in my rear view mirror.
Along with the new piece of gold plated copper you'll share your bed with.
You'll kiss, love, and adventure with.
But remember I'll forever be the first passenger in the brand new truck.

July 23rd, 3:46 P.M.

I have now began to understand happiness.
My upside down, inside out life is almost falling into place.
New adventures, new people.
An upside down view of the world is my new vice.
My vice without you.
withOUT you. Damn it feels good to say that.

August 13th, 12:30 P.M.

My best friend is home.
I'm happy.
Our tires hit the road to the city that is sleepless.
The city you promised to take me to.
The songs show up on the radio, online or not.
Our songs.
Trucks fly by, my four wheels dying to beat theirs.
Trucks of same brand, same color, same make, same model.
But the same people will never fill yours.
And that is okay.

August 15th, 6:08 P.M.
I'm home.
We are home, my friends and I.
My life for the past month has been a mess.
But I realized that of course it is.
My world got flipped upside down, and everything was turned over.
But this is a good kind of over.
I've met new people.
I've seen new things.
I've heard new noises.
And I didn't do with you.
No more tears.
No more fingers to lace together.
No more midnight love sessions.
No more weekend adventures.
With you.

August 19th, 2:12 A.M.
Adventures, and experiences have been commenced.
Life has began.
Smiles are genuine.
Laughs are loud and full again.
My nightmares are dreams again.
Midnight adventures sessions are coming to ends until the next day.
And I don't need YOU.

It's been 44 days.
23 hours.
40 minuets.
38 seconds since I've been without you.
And I've never felt so free.
I've never felt not trapped.
I'm me. I'm the music thumpin', hippie-vibin', cat lovin', loud laughin', girl you once fell in love with and you can't have her back.

I'm happy.
I'm in love win life.
I'm in love with myself.
I knew I could count on you for something.
Something, I just wasn't sure what.
I figured it out.
I could count on you to confirm people always leave, the only love you'll ever need is from yourself, and that life is a ride, you just gotta know how to hang on.

Thank you.
I'll forever be thankful for what you do for me, don't get me wrong.
But I'm really thankful for having you to teach me what the difference is between a boy and a man.
And I don't owe you anything.

August 19th, 2:24 A.M.

Im happy living my life.

Upside down and inside out.

4:27 AM

I lay in my bed, 4:27 AM.
Sheets tangled around me.
Country love music in the background.
4:27 AM.
I've stressed about the dirty kitchen, the bills, and things needed for the house.
I lay here thinking about how you're asleep, alone, 20 minuets away in your bed.
4:27 AM.
I lay here thinking what if I don't make it? What if I can't finish college or never find the right career?
What if I can never be the best mom, and only put in effort like my mom until my oldest is just barely 19?
What if I never have enough money to support us?
What if you find someone else?
4:27 AM.
What I am doing with my life right now is okay, but am I going to get through?
I don't want to be alone in this bed anymore.
I want to roll over and have you here.
I want to feel your breath on my neck, shallow and warm.
Your arm around me, when I lay wide awake thinking about how my life is crashing.
Instead of laying here, 4:27 AM with tear filled eyes, my body shaking from stress, and my throat in a know.
4:27 AM.
I love you, and will never be able to express it enough. I want to be able to spend the rest of my life with you, until 4:27 AM on my last day.
The way I catch you staring, and how I can block out the cat calls with your simple smile.
The adventures in the pick up, or the sheets.
4:27 AM.
I don't want to be here, in 4:27 AM, alone.
Anymore.
I lay here.
I lay in my bed, 4:35 AM.

Seven. Seven words.

Seven.
Seven words came rolling off of your lips.
Words that everyone seems to say, and have never seemed to remember saying.
For some silly reason, I believe you.
I then begin to imagine what these words are defined by.
What they consist of. What you mean.

I want them.
Want is the key word here.
I want them to consist of this:
  A house of a thousands smiles.
  A front door that opens into a perfect fantasy.
  A lowered living room, with a deck all around.
  A kitchen with home-cooked, loved-filled meals.
  An upstairs, with a view into our everyday life.
  A private getaway; Ours.
  A beautiful glass barrier, with a view and a glass deck.
  A bed, our bed, set away, in its own cove.
  French doors, entering into our own.
  Double walk in closets, with mirrored doors unlocking them.
  A glass door entering into the place we wash our worries away...together.
  This isn't all I want with you, though.

Yes, I want a big house.
But, not all to ourselves.
I want a house filled with the patter of little feet.
Smudges of little finger prints, and giggles of little voices.
The early morning wake up calls of laughter and kisses.
The morning rush of breakfast, clothes, lunches and an SUV of booster seats.
The nightly wind-down of dinner, baths, spelling tests, and goodnight kisses and prayers.

A life of our own definition of perfection.
I want to change my name, and start a new story.
Our story.
Our life.
Out adventure.

I want to be able to tell our kids about the silly adventures.
Late nights, your dirty FJ, and muddy jeans.
The nights in, the cuddles, and the inside jokes.
The feeling of us running the town at 2 AM on late night runs until the roads stopped...gravel and all.
Our wedding, how we met, and our first fight.

I want to share it all.
But.
But.
But, I want to share it all with our kids.
I want them to look at us, and set goals to be like mommy and daddy.
I want to be able to say the word.
Daddy.
And know my kids will never choke on the world when their lips form it, like mine did.

I want everyone to look at us and wonder if we are still kids.
I want to have everyone be jealous we are still in love at the beginning of every day and a little more each night.

Your tan skin.
Blue eyes.
Bright smile, and full laugh.
The way you care about us, and put us first.
Everything about you.
Your pajama pants, and arms around me.
You.
Your lips.

Those seven. 
Six simple words.
Six words roll off your lips.

"I want to take you with me."

Six.

Screws & Blood.

"Screws fall out all the time.
The world is an imperfect place."
The Breakfast Club//1985

Well if screws fall out all the time and the world is supposed to be an imperfect place,
The bucket that sits in the corner of the old man's garage on 5th street,
Must be full of my screws for my world.
Maybe my heart is in there too.

Honestly, Probably.
More then likely.
It's being poked and prodded.
Pried open, and bleeding.
My blood dries in the cracks and crevices.
Not the cracks and crevices of the bucket, or the screws.
The cracks and crevices of my hands.

I have lived in a world upside down.
Here, let me describe it:
Like a snow-globe that sits on the shelf around Christmas time.
Like a snow-globe that is shaken 365 times a day.
Like a snow-globe that has greasy fingerprints on it.
Like a snow-globe that no one cares about, or wants to clean.

I live in a world of constant confusion.
Hate.
Low self-esteem.
Embarrassment.
Laughing stock.
& so much more.

I am not like the girls on magazine covers.
My house is almost constantly filled.
Filled with what, you may ask?
Filled with yelling.
Tears.
Hatred.
Anxiety.
Tension.
Annoyance.
And more tears.

I am not the perfect person in your eyes.
Yet, you want me to be.
You want to be just like me and I don't want that.
I am supposed to be the one that wants to be like you.
And that's the last thing I want.
I don't want to drive my children crazy.
I don't want to kick them out.
I don't want to make them stressed.
Or feel like they were cut from the wrong piece of ugly cloth.

Because.
Because myself, I.
I cannot physically cut the cloth and make me, you.
I hate myself because of you.
I hate my body because of you.
I hate my world because of you.
I hate me.

I know how to tie a smile on my face,
and laugh like I mean it.
You have made me vulnerable.
Vulnerable to myself.
To guys.
To everyone.
It has wrecked me.

I want to pull my hair out.
I want to scream.
Cry.
Feel pain.

But I also want to feel loved.
Laugh.
Free.
Happy.
And I can't do that because you're holding me back.

My heart is in a bucket full of screws,
Along with all the good memories of us.
Right now, all your doing is slowly deleting each good one with a bad one.
My hands covered in dried blood.

"The world is an imperfect place.
Screws fall out all the time."
The Breakfast Club//1985

Something Valuable

I learned something valuable yesterday.
Yesterday while I was on the phone with the boy who I want to believe I am madly in love with.
I learned something, that kind of hit me in the heart.
I have to quit.
Quit living life like a burden.
Quit thinking the worst on myself.
Quit thinking I am a pain to everyone.
Just quit.
I have to live life.

Live life.

I have to enjoy every day.
Every single damn day.
I have to embrace the rain.
The sun.
The wet grass.
Or maybe when I slip and fall on a couple wet leaves.
I just have to embrace everything.

Embrace it.

I can’t think that every day is something meant to be normal.
Normal isn’t what I do.
It hasn’t been since the beginning.
Most days are an adventure.
The rest of those days?
The rest of those days are the breaks home between road trip, hikes, and exploring.

I have to be me.

I have to be that girl.
The girl who everyone notices.
But in a good way.
The girl from next door.
The girl from the corner of the library.
Because no matter how many people I believe hate me, twice as many want to be like me.
I realized that to some people, I am the one they want to live like.
The girl who is carefree.
The girl who has her head stuck in the clouds.
The girl who loves.
The girl who laughs and cries.
The girl who doesn’t do anything out of spite.

The girl who is free.

You cant live life like a clock.
Doing the same thing every day.
Going around in circles, perfectly.
Because, honey.
Honey time is a silly thing.
Its there to keep us on track, but not to live our lives for us.
Time is a secret shadow.
Time is a wonder element.
Time is a dream.
You are in charge.
You control time.
Time lasts forever.
You don’t.
Live life like the clock is broken.
Like the numbers are jumbled.
Like the hands go every direction.
Like midnight doesn’t exists.

I am.

The sun sets and rises for you.
For you, my dear.
The moon and stars are bright.
They shine for you.
Yes, you my dear.

You have to attack every day.
Attack it with energy.
With a carefree attitude.
Don’t let what happened in the past happen today.

I learned that no matter how mean she is.
How much he said he loved you.
Or how the way you guys laughed together.
That is what you have to live off of.
Analyze evry situation, and throw away the worst.
Hang those good moments on the wall.

Find you.

Find the Christina Yang.
Audrey Hepburn.
Meredith Stephens.
Taylor Swift.
Marvin Gaye.
The next door neightbor.
Find them in you
Embrace it.
Live it.
Slay the day.

You have to quit living life in the mud.
Pick up the mud.
Throw it.
Start a mud fight with the one you love.
Kiss in the end.
Wake up the next day, and remember.
Remember there is no such thing as midnight.
Take the long home.
Find a lookout.
Kiss the sand.
Yell at the top of your lungs.
Chinese fire drill in the middle of the day.
Pay for someone’s coffee.
Because when you realize.
Realize life is simple.
You make the rules.

I learned something valuable yesterday.

I ask myself

I ask myself everyday.
I ask myself everyday if you hate me.
I ask myself everyday if you love me.
I ask myself everyday if you would really want to.
Want to spend the rest of your life with me.
I strongly doubt it.
I strongly doubt you love me.

I wouldn't be surprised if those 5 hurtful words spilled from your lips so easily.
Maybe the stream from your fingers.
Maybe it will be after you make sure I am in your car.
Maybe it will be over a candle light dinner.
Maybe it will be after I thought you loved me.
Maybe it will be tonight.

Shaking.
Listening to the world around me.
Everyone around me, I wonder if it is you.
In reality I know it isn't.
You don't love me that much.
Not as much as I thought you did.

I thought you really in love with me.
But in reality I do believe that I am just an object.
I don't think I what you are looking for.
I cant be what you are looking for.
I cant be true, I cant be real.
An objet to keep you stable, an object to pre occupy you.
Something.

I am not a person.

I sit here, with tears held in the corners of my eyes.
Your love bite on my neck.
Your favorite band playing in the background.

I wonder if you hate me.
I feel you do, sometimes.
You'll never know how much you keep me grounded.

It's no longer your hands that caress my face, but my tears.
These tears are filled with pain and fear.
I wish you were the one.
I cannot grasp how I feel.
My thoughts are confused.

I feel like a burden on you.
I feel like I am holding you back for living your life.
I am slowing you down, and you won't admit it.

I am not a person.

I am not the girl you dated before me.
I am not the girl you wanted before you met me.
I am not wild like her.
I am not one to live life high.
I am not one to burn my sorrows away with a lighter.
I am not the one to show my body in ways she did.

I don't have the natural look.
I don't have long brown hair like she does.
I don't know how to do the things you used too.
I feel as if I need to know.
I feel as if I should know.
I feel as if I should for you to love me.

I am not a hippie, nor a weed smoker.
I do not want to travel from festival to festival.
I don't live on the beach, paint my face with funny colors.
I don't drink, nor want too.
I don't want to black out the important years of my life.
But I do want to love you.

Right now.
Right now at this moment in time.
This specific moment in time, I hate my life.
I hate the way I have to turn to you.
I hate the way I feel disguarded from you.
I hate the way you make me feel wrong most of the time.
I hate the way I feel as if I stress you out.
I feel like you hate me.
You hate the depressed me.
You hate my habits, and my fears.
You hate my worries.

I swear you hate me.
You don't love me.
I am just an object.
An object you can leave love bites, and touches on.
Something you play with in your spare time.
A form of habit you cannot quit.

I am not a person.

I know the old you is different from the you I know now.
But that old you shines through.
The way you hold on and can't let go of old habits.
The way you do things when you're bored.
The way you talk about your past.
I know you miss those people.
I know you miss the old house.
I know you miss the way you used to live.
I know yet, you don't.

I thought you loved me.
I think you don't and your'e just using me.
I can't say anything to you without feeling that I am will be in trouble.
I cannot let go.
I don't want to let go of you.
I can't.

I can hear the annoyance.
I can feel the tension.
I can see the confusion and pity.

Yet you make me feel like I am not a human being.

I am waiting for those five words.
Those five words of hurt.
Those five words.

I don't know if it will be a serious encounter, or one out of spite.
But I do know, I am scared.
I am scared to actually speak the way I feel in front of you or even to you.
I am scared that one day you'll tell me to stop.
You won't hold me anymore.
You won't touch me.
You won't kiss me.
That is when I know it's coming to a screeching halt.
I no longer know what to say, nor how to describe the way I am feeling.
I just want you to know I feel like a burden to you.
I can't help that I am fucked up.
I just can't.
I do know that either you do kind of love me, or you're really good at lying and pretending.

Just remember that I am not pretending nor lying.

I ask myself everday.
I ask myself everyday if you hate me.
I ask myself everyday if you love me.
I ask myself everyday if you would really want to.
Want to spend the rest of your life with me.
I strongly doubt it.
I strongly doubt you love me.

But Damn, am I glad it is.

I never thought it would be this.
But damn, am I glad it is.
This precious.
This perfect.
This bright.
This.

I never thought I would feel this way.
I never thought it could be this way.
I never thought I wouldn't understand.
I don't understand.

Maybe I am not good at what I am doing.
Not good at holding your hand.
Not good at standing by you.
Not good at giving a love that is clear to see.
Not good at giving you what you need.

But.
But I can promise you something.
Something that I will put everything into this.
That no matter what, I am going to love you at the end of everyday.
That every kiss has more meaning than last.
That you are the reason I continue.
That you are what I have searched for.
That I wake up everyday with your name on my lips.
That every moment you catch me looking at you is because I found something more to fall into love with.

The way your blue eyes shine.
Your jaw line forms perfectly down your neck.
Your hands hold me.
Your soft lips feel against my old cracked ones.
Your words are tender.
Your actions are soft.
You.

You.

I want to wake up next to you every morning.
I want to run my small hands through your hair.
I want to lay my lips on yours.
To think about the good times to come.
To think about the good times that have passed.
To let go of my bad past.
To wonder what it would be like in the future.
To take a look at all the precious moments we created.
To solve our problems.

I can't help but love the way you hate it when I kiss your neck.
How you wont let go of me when we lay next to each other.
And your laugh.
I can't help but love the way you smile every time I walk into the room.
Or the way you kiss me in the middle of my sentences.
And your slender build.
I can't help but want to kiss you when you say something sweet,
Or when we sit in silence.
To remember every moment.

Then again there are some things you have to remember.
You have to remember that I need affection.
My mentality, to my discovering, functions off of the feeling.
Feeling of being wanted, and touched.
You have to remember when I have attack and say something.
I didn't mean it.
It was something inside me.
A monster I don't know how to control-something that creates a buzz I can't clear away.
You have to remember that the things I hear.
Things I hear mean more then the average person.
Its my crazy mind I am trying not to lose control of.
You have to remember that I get scared.
I get scared you're going to stop.
You're going to realize you can't tame the monster inside of me-even though you want to.
You have to remember that I am head over heels for you.
I've never felt this way about someone.
You're the first-and right now I want this feeling to last.

You.
You are the one I want to tame the monster inside of me.
The one I want to understand my fucked up life.
The one who promises to try.
The one I don't want to stop.
The one I want head over heels for me.
You.

You're the beat I have stuck in my head.
The rain drops on my window.
The words stuck on my tongue.
The questions in my head.

You're the smile on the edge of my lips.
The gleam in my eye.
The late nights,
The laughs.
The missing piece.
The piece I finally found.

It's you boy.

I never thought it would be this.
But damn, I glad it is.

you && rain.

My thoughts are consumed with you.
The 100th floor of an apartment building.
Seattle, Washington.
The rain pouring.
Slowly reaching down the windows.
Your hands in my hair.
You kiss me slowly.
Time moves fast around us.
It's been a year and a half now.

The late nights of watching you play video games.
Your dog curled up next to the bed.
The late nights of watching movies.
The late nights of kisses.
The late nights of cuddling.
The late nights of talking.
The late nights of crying and wiping tears away.
The late nights of my skin against yours.

The way you always walk me to my car after class.
The way you hold my hand and swing our arms.
The way you kiss me after I climb into your car.
The way you pick me up and rest me against a wall.
The way you watch movies with such intention.

I think about things.
I think about our future.
I think about the way you care.
I think about what we both want to do.
I think about how I wouldn't care if we were stuck.
Stuck in a little apartment.
With drafty windows and lopsided floors.
A drippy sink, and 4 flights of stairs.
I think about no matter what, I would be happy with you.

You put my words at a stop and a smile on my face.
You make me feel wanted.
You make me feel loved.
You make me feel important.

The thought of you consumes my mind.
The thought of your hands.
The thought of your blue eyes.
The thought of your soft skin, and sandy blonde hair.
The thought of your big heart, passions and dreams.
The thought of all the times you slowly grab my hand while we are driving.
The thought of all the times I would slowly move away from you in, and you'd pull me in.

A lot of things consume my mind.
But I am happy that it is you.
I am safe around you.
I can cry and be myself.
I can have an attack.
I can love and sleep.
I can scream and eat.
I can be me.
I've never had someone I can do this around.
I've never had someone and now I have you.

You calm me when I am upset.
You care when I am scared.
You feel when I cannot.
You pull me in, instead of pushing me away.

When your lips touch my hardened heart, it slowly begins to open.
When you're around.

My thoughts are consumed with you.
The 100th floor of an apartment building.
Seattle, Washington.
The rain pouring.

It isnt the fact.

It isn't the fact.
It's the fact.
The fact that it's new.
The fact that you.
You are new.
It isn't the fact that I don't trust you.
It isn't the fact that I don't know.
It's the fact that I am scared.
The fact that maybe I don't trust myself.
The fact that my past is filled with a lot of colors.
You know when you look back on a memory and that one specific color is there.
Maybe a red.
Maybe a blue.
Maybe a purple.
Maybe it was a brown.
Or a grey.
Or a black.
You don't know where or why this color is so prominent.
It's just there.
Maybe it was a shirt you were wearing.
Maybe it was the color of the sky that day.
Maybe it was the toenail polish your mama had on that day.
Maybe it was the color of your lens in your sunglasses.
Or Maybe it was that specific black.
The specific black you see when you close your eyes.
I feel like it's different for everyone.
But for me this black was scary.
It wasn't because I couldn't see.
It was because I could hear.
Hear the words.
Hear the sorrow.
Hear the pain.
But this wasn't when I was so young I could still my mom's toes without have yo actually look.
This was the time where I could paint my own toes.
This was the time where I had trouble with life.
The acne.
The puberty.
The growing up.
But most of all it was the words.
The words that came from lips that should be stitched shut.
The words that pinned me to my mattress.
But it wasn't just words.
It was silent tears that shadowed my cheek bones.
It was silent tears that helped me see.
Helped me see that black.
That black that is different.
Different for everyone when they escape.
When they try to escape those nightmares.
Those memories you don't want to look back on but can't help.
It was the click of the door lock.
The lock symbolized so many things.
It symbolized that I was helpless.
It symbolized there was nothing I could do.
It symbolized screams.
It symbolized drunken movements.
It symbolized flashbacks.
It symbolized fear.
But it symbolized protection.
You did it for me.
But it symbolizes trust issues.
Trust issues of others.
Not just all the others.
But others who aren't my mother.
Others who are like this man.
This man you protected me from
This man's son who targeted me.
Targeted me the way he targeted her.
So you're wondering.
Wondering what does this have to do with me.
Wondering why.
Wondering what.
What do I mean.
I mean that words spoken from lips that are sober can be worse than words spoken from drunken ones.
I want you to be happy.
I want you to understand.
Every time my tounge forms this story, I shake inside.
I want to cry but I can't.
I want to scream but they are silent.
I feel alone.
I feel frightened.
Because what if I speak my mind?
If I speak my mind is what happened to her going to happen to me.
Will I be treated the same way.
Will I be listened to the way she wanted to be.
Will I be trusted that way she thought she was by the little hands and little feet.
Will I?
This black holds memories of fear.
But protection.
So when words from you.
Words from you of an offer to others.
Other people.
Others you would spend 6 hours with in a car.
Others you would experience this concert with.
Others other than me.
I get nervous.
I get scared.
But it's all because it's new to me.
Its new because my past makes my future.
Because I feel as if I can trust you.
Because I feel you would understand.
This blackness was full of other women for him.
But she pretended she didn't know.
And this blackness brings back fear.
Fear.
Fear of being the one to threaten.
The one to beat.
The one to take it all.
The one who is t good enough.
Maybe it's because it's new.
Maybe it's because I'm still scared.
But can you do something
Something he wouldn't do for me.
Can you promise me.
Promise me that if I don't go.
And you spend 6 hours with another girl.
Promise me that I won't become the one to threaten.
I won't become the one to beat.
I will still be the one that your tounge chooses to name.
I will still be the one your head chooses to think about.
I will still be the one your heart chooses to love.
I will still be the one.
It isn't the fact.
It's the fact.
The fact that it's new.
The fact that you.
You are new.

It Was Something New.

It was some thing new.
Some thing new, yet so familiar.
You know when you've done some thing.
Expierenced some thing.
Heard it.
Felt it.
Took it in.
A million times before, yet it's different.
Different when something in your life changes.
Maybe it was a drastic change.
Maybe it was a small change and you didn't notice.
That's what it was like with you.

With you, again.
Maybe it's because you were on my mind.
Maybe it's because your name lingered on my lips.
But when I had first lit the candle and without thinking I bent over to smell it.
Not to smell what the candle would smell like when when the wax melted.
But that short moment.
That moment when you can smell the heat.
The heat of the fire.
The heat of the wick.
The moment when it brings you a short euphoria.
An euphoria of bliss.
A euphoria of hunger.
A euphoria of wanderlust.

I've done this since I was a child.
After my mom would light the candles.
Each and every one.
I would love the smell of the heat.
It brought me to my own world.
And now you bring me back.
Back to the world of many things I felt as a child.
The excitement.
The curiosity.
The wonderment.
The confusion.
The feelings.

I haven't experienced anything like this in a long time.
The way your soft lips touch mine.
The way your smile tastes.
The way your hands are rough against my skin.
How your fingers explore the mountains of goose bumps along my spine.
How your breath rushes down my neck.
How your eyelashes feel when the brush against my cheek bone.
How and the way your body picks up my signals.
The way your mouth forms the words you speak to me.
The way your eyes glisten when you get excited.
The way your face speaks your true feelings.
How you talk with your hands without noticing it.
How you express what you feel inside through your body.
How you love your guilty pleasures and secrets.
How you explain.
How you love.

I spent just a short few hours with you.
On two desperate occasions.
One were we didn't know.
One were we did know.
What we didn't know.
What we do know.
We figured it out on two sepereate occasions.
We figured out what we didn't know when we knew.
We figured out what we did know when we didn't know.

You're the way the wick burns.
You're the way the heat smells for a short second.
You're the old memories of my childhood.
You're the way I didt know.
You're the way my body relaxes when I smell the heat
You're the way the heat feels on the tip of my nose.
You're the way my childhood is relived.
But in a completely different way.
I didn't know at the time.
The time I was 5.
The time I was 6.
The time I was 7.
Or maybe even 8.
I didn't know that I would find the man.
The man who lead me back to my childhood.
The childhood of feeling protected behind my mother.
Behind my mother when she lit the candles.
When I ran to smell the heat.
The heat of my future.
The heat of my past.
The heat of my dreams.

Then.
It was something new, yet so familiar.
It was something new.

My 200.

"Pass 'GO' and collect $200."
I don't know how many times I have given it back.
It seems every time I pass 'GO' I'm not collecting.
I'm not giving it back. I'm loosing It.
Loosing grip.
But it is time to stop.
Time to stop letting time push me back.
It is Time for me to push forward.
And collect that $200 on the way.
I'll start fresh.
Because I wanted to become.
Become someone I was not.
I did and I lost It all.
Then.
Then I came across you.
You were my 'GO' .
You were my start.
You were.
And now I am.
And now I am someone New.
I am the girl who takes you to the party.
Takes you to the party In the same t-shirt.
Same I'm t-shirt I wear to bed.
So stay.
Stay with me.
Stay with me right here.
Because right here, right now.
Right here, right now is perfect.
Let's disappear into perfect.
I hope my perfect is the same as yours.
The perfect of the ceiling fan turning to the rhythm.
The rhythm of our spinning bare feet on the floor of our first apartment.
Our first apartment with that living room light.
That living room light that keeps you begging for more.
Where the begging turns into a wonder.
A wanderlust feeling.
A curiousity feeling.
The feelings, along with the bare feet.
Lead us down the hall.
The hall where pictures hang of our high school days.
Let me be your party girl.
But a different kind of party.
A party that has a little apartment.
Just the two of us.
My old tv && no cable.
Your old bed && microwave.
Because this is my 'GO'.
You are my $200 that I wanted.
That $200 for rent.
For food.
For telephones that are only used to keep in touch.
Keep in touch with each other.
A month.
Soon that $200 becomes something else.
It becomes 200 days.
200 weeks.
200 weekends.
200 sleepless nights.
200 kisses.
200 tears.
200 months.
200 promises.
200 years.
Because you're my kind of different.
Kind of crazy.
Kind of happiness.
Soon it'll be 200 bandaids.
200 stuffed animals.
200 barbeques.
200 birthday parties.
200 everything.
Because you are my summer rain.
My winter snow.
Fall leaves.
Spring clouds.
I can't wait to make that 200 into something bigger.
Something full of love.
Full of laughing.
Full of little hands and toes.
Full of firsts.
Full of memories.
Full.
Beaches and glass houses.
Couple dogs.
Maybe a cat or two.
Motorcyle rides through the city.
Late nights on the beaches.
Trips to Mexico.
Drapes blowing from the salty wind.
Music always playing.
A cool summer night of love.
It couldn't be a better 200.
Because I want to.
I want dreams with you.
Because I want to with you.
You.
"Pass 'GO' and collect $200."

Stupid Issues. Stupid past.

Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is the way.
The way I'm supposed to live.
I mean I dream about the way I want me life to be.
A poor college kid with a messy apartment.
But with that messy apartment comes many things.
Messy hair.
A room full of music.
Ways to shortcut things.
But also a messy background.
I have abandonment issues.
Not because of my mother.
But slightly because of my father.
You know.
The man who was supposed to be there.
To walk me down the aisle.
To intimidate the boys I bring home.
To have a shoulder to cry on.
To play airplane and baseball with.
To explain to me why mama is sick.
To do everything a dad does.
But he wasn't.
Instead he was young and so was she.
He went home.
Home that is only a few minuets away.
Then moved.
Moved away.
Far away.
To NC.
I spend my whole life wondering.
Wondering where he might be.
What he looks like.
How he acts.
If he is married.
I had all these questions.
Questions that I have long forgotten.
It's been too long.
But also because after you find out.
You run.
Run far away.
You don't look back.
It wasn't my fault.
I try to control this.
This thing I have to live with.
And you can't learn.
Even though you promised.
And you were also part of the reason I have these issues.
I see you around.
You look so happy.
So content. Mellow.
And I only wish that you were the one.
The one in my shoes.
The one suffering.
The one hurting.
The one with questions.
The one without answers.
But also the one to show me it'll be okay.
That I'm loved.
That someone wants to be with me.
But no.
I pushed you away.
Far away.
All because of this stupid thing.
And now you are the one who had added.
Added to my issues.
Trust.
Commitment.
Abandonment.
Family.
And you expect me to be happy.
You see me and I seem fine.
But in reality, every time I see you.
I see you and wish.
Wish I could pound on your chest one more time.
Cry on the phone.
Fall asleep on the couch.
Kiss your lips.
Wave goodbye.
Laugh.
Be comfortable.
One more time.
But no.
All because of my stupid issues.
So thank you for making me.
Making me feel.
Feel like shit.
Feel worthless.
Unhappy.
Confused.
Lost.
Mentally unstable.
Crazy.
Unwanted.
Abandoned.
Unloved.
Violated.
Pathetic.
Thank you.
Because maybe.
Just maybe.
Maybe this is it. 

Maybe.

Where do I even begin?
Begin to start.
Start this crazy thing I called love.
This crazy thing called love.
It's something I have learned about.
I have learned that sometimes it isn't what you wanted.
What you want is a fairytale.
Fairytales are things only children believe in.
Maybe that's what I am.
Maybe I am a child.
Maybe I am the imagination.
Maybe I am the fairytale.
The fairytale of heartbreak.
Disaster.
Broken hope.
Maybe my clouds are lined with black instead of silver.
Just maybe.

Maybe I am the one who needs to find someone who will change the lining on my clouds.
Maybe I am the one who needs to stop searching.
We all find our selves searching for something at one point in life.
I found myself searching for my fairytale.
Searching for it.
My fairytale.
You.

I thought I had found it.
It was the perfect first date.
The prefect "my official real date".
You promised me a million things.
Anything from teaching me to longboard to forever and always.
Now I am just a faded memory in the background.
My touch lingering on your skin.
The sound of my voice in your ear.
The picture of me in your hat.
It's all a memory.

Maybe one day we will cross paths.
Try things again.

Maybe it's my fairytale.
My wildest dream.

Maybe it was a short lesson we both needed to learn.
Maybe it will turn into a valuable lesson we will teach others.

Maybe it was a mistake to tell you those stupid three words.
To let you fall asleep on my couch.
Kiss my lips.
Lace my fingers in yours.
Play with my hair.
And touch my skin.
Maybe it was a mistake to hear those stupid three words from you.

Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Just.
Maybe.

Half of me misses the hell out of you.
Half of my hates you.
Half of me wonders what I did wrong.
Was it my crazy fucked up life?
My anxiety?
My depression?
My sassy comments you laughed at?
My thought process?
My clean slate?
What was it.
Half of me wants to laugh.
Half of me wants to cry.
Half of me wants to beg you to come back.
Half of me wants to walk away.

I guess that broken road of yours we talked so much of.
Maybe the broken part of it was me.
I guess I'll see you sometime at a y in the road.
Maybe I'll be one choice.
Standing.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Screaming your name.
You look at me with a blank stare.
And walk away.
Like you didn't even see me standing in the background.
Good bye.
Where do I begin?

skinny love.

skinny love.

i sit here and study for finals.
all i can do is think of you.
running.
running across my mind.
i want the type of love.
the skinny type of love.
where two people are in love with each other, but they are just afraid to say anything.
the one where its being in love all the time.
even after being married.
even after having kids.
the type of love that is a new type of skinny.
my definition of skinny love.
my pandora radio.
open the door.
pick me up.
i wrap my legs around you.
i steal your beanie from your head.
swing me around the room.
my hair flying behind me.
the sound of laughter filling our tiny apartment.
one of those apartments that is run down.
one of those apartments that is sketchy.
one of those apartments that is filled with old people who have lived there since the beginning.
the kitchen sink drips.
air conditioner is unreasonably loud.
the carpet is stained.
the bath tub doesnt plug.
the bathroom sink is lopsided.
the floors are slanted.
the living room window covered with broken blinds.
the screen door swings opposite from the door.
and no one would want to live there.
but i feel safe with you.
when we curl up together in my old bed from high school.
or the first couch you had in college.
laptops and books.
papers and notebooks.
backpacks and fast food bags.
the little flat screen tv, and old gaming system.
the stereo always playing music.
never stopping.
our bedroom filled with clothes.
clothes either needing to be washed or put away.
messy bun.
your old fall out boy sweatshirt.
socks up my calves.
no make up.
a cup of cocoa.
movies.
late night study sessions.
car keys thrown on the little table next to the door.
a baseball bat behind the door...i claim we dont need.
but i let you keep it there.
our dead end jobs bringing in just enough rent money.

this life may sound bad to others.
but.
but this is our life.
and we dont mind.
its the clothes, hot cocoa, messy hair, beanies.
its the music, fast food bags, laptops, papers.
its the drippy faucets, and bath tubs that dont plug.
its the books, and paper plates, no dishwasher.
its these things that make up our silly love.
our skinny love.
the moments of cranked music, top ramen, and screaming dance sessions.
the moments of laughter, kisses, teasing and smiles.
these are the moments that define my type of skinny love.

now.
now i need.
i need someone.
someone who owns a fall out boy sweatshirt and beanies.
someone who can imagine this with me.
i need someone.
i need you.