He says that he loves me
and I've even said those words back.
Even though neither of us knows
what love is.
But I think I'm getting the hang of it.
Love is understanding,
even when it's hard.
Smiling at the bad days,
and a hug at that lowest point.
Love is saying
what no one else will.
Love is not giving up on a dream,
instead it is ordering two tickets instead of one.
Love is being a half a world away,
and yet still feeling them
beside you.
The greatest thing about love though,
is that you never get tired of
falling in love with them.
So there's this boy,
and we're both young,
and have the entire world
in front of us.
And we have love.
Always love.
Which is the best part.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
this city
I don't even mind the clouds and drizzle
the people bundled up in their coats,
the push and pull of the river of cars.
I'm in love with the way the roads twist
and mingle with each other.
They dip, coil, and turn themselves around
over the river, under the river,
enjoying the grass under the sun's brief rays.
I don't mind the silence between strangers
the silent agreement among the crowd
to not say a word.
I'm in love with the way the city opens itself,
once you hit it with a hammer.
The corner pubs filled to the brim,
and filling to the brim,
and explodes out of its seam with creativity.
I don't mind the drizzle,
or the silence,
or the way everyone is allowed to be
exactly who they want to be.
the people bundled up in their coats,
the push and pull of the river of cars.
I'm in love with the way the roads twist
and mingle with each other.
They dip, coil, and turn themselves around
over the river, under the river,
enjoying the grass under the sun's brief rays.
I don't mind the silence between strangers
the silent agreement among the crowd
to not say a word.
I'm in love with the way the city opens itself,
once you hit it with a hammer.
The corner pubs filled to the brim,
and filling to the brim,
and explodes out of its seam with creativity.
I don't mind the drizzle,
or the silence,
or the way everyone is allowed to be
exactly who they want to be.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Mister Radio Man
Hey there Mister Radio Man, can I tell you a secret?
Will you play this love song on your radio show?
He'll tell it's for him,
by just the words that I've wrote.
Mister Radio Man, I've never felt like this before.
Will you play this love song on your radio show?
He'll tell it's for him,
by just the words that I've wrote.
Mister Radio Man, I've never felt like this before.
And I'm dancing to songs
I've never listened to before.
And I'm singing like a fool,
running through the rain.
Mister Radio Man, can I tell you this story?
It'll only take a moment,
but I gotta feeling that this feeling is gonna stay.
Hey there Mister Radio Man, can I tell you a secret?
The way he smiles
I just gotta know,
Mister Radio Man, will you tell me if he calls?
I've gotta leave his arms,
but tell him I'll be back.
Hey there Mister Radio Man,
I just gotta tell the whole world,
that this boy makes me happy.
Mister Radio Man, will you let me do that
on your radio show?
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Deming 313
the pictures are off the door
the desk is cleared of the abandoned paperclips, sticky notes, and bobby pins
the closet is empty
the boxes and bags strain at their seams.
I look at the room
that has been my home
for the past two years.
I have met my best friend,
cried myself to sleep,
sat at my desk for endless hours,
and laughed until I had to run to the bathroom.
I have made tough decisions,
easy choices,
and hid in my closet when I couldn't decide which was which.
I have stumbled into,
and out, of bed
and curled up on the floor when the bed
was just too far away.
I have talked
and listened
and I have done my best to understand.
I won't necessarily miss the 3 flights of stairs,
--and I know Dad won't miss moving me in and out--
walking down the hallway,
waving to the camera that has been the witness
to many a strange event.
I knew it was a good sign
that I got my lucky number my freshman year.
But this room is more than
what it appears to be,
the desk is cleared of the abandoned paperclips, sticky notes, and bobby pins
the closet is empty
the boxes and bags strain at their seams.
I look at the room
that has been my home
for the past two years.
I have met my best friend,
cried myself to sleep,
sat at my desk for endless hours,
and laughed until I had to run to the bathroom.
I have made tough decisions,
easy choices,
and hid in my closet when I couldn't decide which was which.
I have stumbled into,
and out, of bed
and curled up on the floor when the bed
was just too far away.
I have talked
and listened
and I have done my best to understand.
I won't necessarily miss the 3 flights of stairs,
--and I know Dad won't miss moving me in and out--
walking down the hallway,
waving to the camera that has been the witness
to many a strange event.
I knew it was a good sign
that I got my lucky number my freshman year.
But this room is more than
what it appears to be,
Sunday, April 22, 2012
strong.
Sometimes you have to be strong,
when in reality
you're just scared.
And you use your strength
to hide the pain
from everyone around you
with "No I'm fine."
and "I'm just tired."
And you are the only one
that knows
how much of a lie
those words are.
when in reality
you're just scared.
And you use your strength
to hide the pain
from everyone around you
with "No I'm fine."
and "I'm just tired."
And you are the only one
that knows
how much of a lie
those words are.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
little black words
A little black book
filled with words.
A little blue book
filled with ideas.
A mind,
a pen,
ink stained fingers.
Too many late nights
to the sound of pages turning.
But they're all just words,
words on a page,
and the ideas are just that.
And there are times
when nothing else
will ever make sense.
Cling to the words,
because that's all
there will ever be.
filled with words.
A little blue book
filled with ideas.
A mind,
a pen,
ink stained fingers.
Too many late nights
to the sound of pages turning.
But they're all just words,
words on a page,
and the ideas are just that.
And there are times
when nothing else
will ever make sense.
Cling to the words,
because that's all
there will ever be.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
What I Found.
I cheated on you,
just to see if I could.
And I found something,
I could.
I found
no regret
and adventure.
Everyone treated me the same,
because no body knew.
It was my grandest creation,
this secret life I had.
I found my desperation
to be loved
in someone else.
And we reached
a sort of understanding
deep within each other.
We touched,
in a way we never had before
with anyone else.
Because we both knew
that to love each other,
to stay with each other,
would be too much for the both of us.
And so we would remain
how we always were,
holding each other's love
in our hearts,
like a candle lit briefly
but blown out by the wind around us.
A short note on this poem: I have never cheated on anyone I have been with. However, through different character creations I came up with this girl. She could be anyone, male or female, at any point time. I love the dynamics of human choices and despite my personal objections, this is one of my favorite poems. Simply because it is innocent and honest and can be read a thousand different ways. I hope you enjoy and understand why this was written.
(I usually don't explain my work, but I feel this piece needed to be explained.)
just to see if I could.
And I found something,
I could.
I found
no regret
and adventure.
Everyone treated me the same,
because no body knew.
It was my grandest creation,
this secret life I had.
I found my desperation
to be loved
in someone else.
And we reached
a sort of understanding
deep within each other.
We touched,
in a way we never had before
with anyone else.
Because we both knew
that to love each other,
to stay with each other,
would be too much for the both of us.
And so we would remain
how we always were,
holding each other's love
in our hearts,
like a candle lit briefly
but blown out by the wind around us.
A short note on this poem: I have never cheated on anyone I have been with. However, through different character creations I came up with this girl. She could be anyone, male or female, at any point time. I love the dynamics of human choices and despite my personal objections, this is one of my favorite poems. Simply because it is innocent and honest and can be read a thousand different ways. I hope you enjoy and understand why this was written.
(I usually don't explain my work, but I feel this piece needed to be explained.)
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