Birthday Wishes From the Girl who has Everything Tangible

okay... it's a very sketchy 1st draft, but it works... it's kind of Samantha Best-ish with her poem in the series finale... I know, weird/bad comparison. but... here goes... yeah. it's for someone... they'll know who they are...

Birthday Wishes From the Girl With Everything Tangible

I'm dialing your number, wondering if I am making the right decision.
I'm one digit in.
I want this.
I need this.
I want the ampersand between our names to blend us together, not distinguish us as two seperate people.
I want to be an us, a we, a them and not the I, her and him that we currently are.

I'm two digits in and I am starting to regret this decision.
I don't want you to hurt me like you have.
I was crushed, sitting there alone, realizing I was just a friend.
I'm scared of knowing what besides standing me up that you are capable of.

Three digits in and your taste in music redeems you.
Hours of endless conversations over obscure bands that no one else has ever heard of reminisce in my mind.
I think about the car rides sitting next to each other, you with the right ear bud, me with the left, listening to the newest band we discovered.
I don't even like ear buds. they hurt.

The fourth number gets dialed and I realize how much I could hurt you, how much I already have hurt you.
I actually know that you would have never hurt me had I never hurt you.
I think I am always going to be capable of hurting you though.
I can't change that.

At five digits, I am reminded of fun conversations about sports.
I don't even like sports, but talking about them with you made it fun.
I can even go so far as to say that I understood them, or at least brilliantly convinced you that I did.
I could talk about sports forever with you and not get bored.

I punch the sixth digit and realize we aren't right for each other.
We'd be the cute, chatty couple at dinner parties; young, successful entrepreneurs that everyone wants to be, so absorbed in our own lives that we don't know what's happening with each other.

I hit the 7th number and hang up.
I like you.
It's not enough.

Religious Power Struggle

This is all of it put together... Wow... Yes, it is about people. No, I'm not telling you who... Hell, Heaven, Purgatory and Earth.

The crush is a relapse. It pulls you back when you try to let go, offering less and less comfort every time. But it keeps you from loneliness, anything that keeps you from loneliness, right? Until it offers no more comfort, until you can be lonely with him. I am lonely with him. I used to think we’d be able to conquer the world, but now I don’t want to face the world with him. I honestly just want him for a night, know what we could have been, then let go. Until then, I can’t let go, I can’t let go. I have never felt that way about someone before. I can’t let you go. You try to cut me loose, but it’s impossible. You question everything about me, pull me down to your level and I just want to be in the comfort of your arms. You drag me away from everything, and I am okay with life just being you. And that is so wrong, but it feels so right. Why do you have to feel so right? Let me go. I know you don’t control it and if you could, you wouldn’t even know me, but let me go, let me go. Let this churning in the pit of my stomach stop. Let me stop caring. Let me go, I was never yours and I never will be and I can’t accept that. I am trying to rip myself away from you, but my heart stays with you and I can’t live without the beat of my heart so it forces me to run back to you. I can’t live without you. You are where my heart is. And I know you can live without me and it’s not fair, it’s not fair that you can live without me while I am stuck in this cringing pain 88.3 miles away from you, barely holding on because I can’t survive without my heart. Try it sometime. Leave your heart with someone else and try to survive. How do you get your heart back without confrontation? I can’t get my heart back until you see it, turn it inside out, I don’t care if you break it, just notice it. Notice my heart, give it back, let me move on. Let me survive in this world without you.
And right when I think I can forget you, you remind me of your existence and say the words I need to hear, you always say the right thing, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach starts up again. Goosebumps surround my body, an extra shield that makes it harder for my heart to get back inside me. It just makes it easier for you to keep. Wish you weren’t so oblivious to it, but you are. Or maybe you aren’t, but you want to be. Maybe I’m not worth your time, maybe I am just fooling myself. Maybe you will never notice me in the way I want you to notice me. Maybe I am just wishing way too hard.
You bastard, you just stabbed my heart.
Conversations run in my head. I try to hold onto every last word between us. Why do I feel this way? I’m not supposed to feel this way. I’m not one to fall in love. I’m not one to fall in lust either. You contradict my morals. You contradict my religion. You contradict my faith. You contradict me. But I have never wanted someone more. Never craved someone more. Never needed someone more. I’m stuck wondering, how can this happen to me?
This must be a test of faith. Yes, that’s what it is. God is testing me to see how strong my strength in Him is. But for you, I would give Him up. I would give up the world, my hopes, my dreams. I would give up life for one night with you.
I want so badly to let go. But I can’t.
I’m a marionette. Lifeless. Being pulled back to you with strings. Telling people I no longer care. Watching my nose grow every time I tell myself I am over you. Let go of your hold over me. Cut the strings. Let me move on, grow up, grow old. Without you in my life.
You’re poison. Deathly. Cleaning out my insides of the good and filling them with toxins, until all that’s left of me is you.
No one else has ever made me feel so alive except for you. You have brought life back to me and pulled me closer to death all at the same time. And now that someone else is taking me away from you, it scares me. Another person is making me feel so alive and it’s so much better, yet so much scarier at the same time. To think that I am letting go of you completely and moving on into a possibility of a better life scares me.
For so long, I was immobile, not wanting to move, wanting to stay with you. You allowed room for mistakes, you were always there when I messed up and I never had to ask forgiveness from the things I did wrong. In fact, you pulled me into sin, making me feel more alive, dragging me closer to death. I don’t think that was the life I wanted.
I’m scared.
Looking at the new face and seeing the potential for good things to prosper, I am scared. I want to turn and run right back to you, but it isn’t right. It isn’t right. I am going to leave you so many miles away, escape the grip you have over me.
This light has captured me, pulled me into His arms, away from you. I want to be with you, but I am scared to be with you. I can’t be with you. I am with Him now. I walk in His light, breathe His air, let Him comfort me and guide me.
He is the way. He is the truth.
I don’t want to mess up because I will pay the price for my sins.
It turns out I am paying the price for my sins. I am drifting in this in-between area, this purgatory, where I am hanging by a thread. Noticed by someone in the middle as well, possibly also hanging. Someone who isn’t a deep connection, someone who is just here for a while, someone who is one year ahead of me in the payment of his sins, yet he still continues on in immoral ways. He is stagnant, bland, but, all the same, he is intriguing, like, I don’t want to let go. I want to stay. It’s safe. It doesn’t put me in a vulnerable place.
We are both sinners, lost in an act of repentance, drifters, emotionless, not knowing which way we want to go, not caring. Do we mess up? Or do we try to follow the light?
He notices me. It’s not like my act of following Him, or my act of clinging onto you. He notices me and I notice him. It’s safe. We are at a shallow state. He doesn’t have to know me, I don’t have to know him. Safety.
For one moment of my life, he saw me as normal. He saw me as the person I am, and not who everyone thinks I am. He saw me as real. Everyone thinks that I am a real person, but I am a fake, a phony. He saw me for who I am and I watched it click in his eyes.
I saw him for who he really was too.
We fumbled for words of explanation, but neither of us needed them. We were on the same page and it was comfortable.
We were no longer the petty, superficial fakes we both had been. We were real, scared, unmoving, not knowing where to go, who to turn to.
I think we both needed that moment, where life just clicked, where we realized we weren’t alone, and, the whole time, we just needed to look back at ourselves.
This isn’t the superficial real that you dragged me into and it’s not the comfort of the light nor is it being noticed by someone. It’s an actual connection. A real, emotional, physical connection.
This is what has been real the whole time.
Heaven. Hell. Purgatory.
Earth.
This is where I belong. It frightens me. But this is where I belong.
I don’t know why I didn’t see it, but it is so right.

Crushed Like Sand - final draft

Crushed Like Sand
Like the ocean,
Your smile, like the waves,
Recedes quickly,
But always comes back.

I watch you watch her.
The waves appear.

Tears tore my face,
You told me my time
Was wasted,
You’d found someone else
You’d tired of waiting

You said this.
The waves disappeared.

I’d wanted to care,
But more than anything,
I’d wanted you to care.
Like a child,
I was frightened,
Yet, willing to try.

I said this.
The waves appeared.

Thinking of your heartbeat,
Dying for your hand to brush mine,
I was scared of love,
But it scares me more
That I let go of you.

I let you know this.
The waves disappeared.

I miss the comforting
Crashing of the waves,
The unpredictability.
I cry tears that will one day
Fill the ocean.

Belonging

Heaven. Hell. Purgatory.
Earth.
Normalcy. It scares me but it's where I belong.
And it's more expansive than I thought.

RUN RUN RUN

okay, I don't actually have a title for this... title in progress.



The light illuminated her face as she handed the conductor her ticket. It was the first time everyone on the train was noticing her. Her straight, brown, hair did its best to hide her bright red, swollen, utterly dried out eyes. Mascara-filled tear stains ran down her cheeks and her cracked lips bled from being chewed. The conductor could tell that she used to be pretty, but now was a time when she just couldn’t care anymore.
The conductor walked past her without a word, just a nod of his hat. This was her first time on a train and she was surprised that conductors indeed had hats and wore uniforms. She had always seen them dressed this way in movies, but figured times had moved on to when train conductors could dress casually. She had been wrong.
Growing up in suburbia, she liked to think that things were different from the norm. She liked to think that not everyone was a conformist and everywhere was a different place. She was aching for some place where at least the houses looked different from one another. Maybe a big city. Maybe a small town. Someplace different. She was aching to run away from everything she ever knew and start over.
She contemplated new names in her head. Something different. Something other than “Megan,” which was the unfortunate name she was stuck with. Something that wasn’t on the top ten babies’ names list. Something with originality. Something normal, yet different. Nothing to weird sounding, like “Apple” or “LaToya,” but nothing like “Ashley” or “Jessica.” She had always been fond of the name “Kaye” and had only ever met one person with that name. “Kaye” was edgy, yet classy, and could fit almost anyone, but no one ever used that name.
She needed a last name that would fit. “Carter?” “McKlain?” “Kaye McKlain” had a nice ring to it. That was who she was going to be from now on.
She would get a job in – wherever the hell she was headed to – and start a new life there. A life where no one knew her. A life with no expectations.
She had a cross country train ticket and she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her.

Heath Ledger - I do miss you!

A bad poem I attempted to write about the boat scene in "The Dark Knight"

The Joker and The Boat

Your smile,
Like time,
Makes us realize,
How little time we might actually have left.

I watch the smile on your face.
Time wastes.

Happiness upon your face,
As you told me my effort was wasted,
I couldn’t save the world
Before you destroyed it.

I watch the smile on your face.
Time wastes.

People were contemplating lives,
People that shouldn’t be,
Couldn’t be.
Time was wasting,
One of the boats possibly about to explode.

I watch the smile on your face.
Time wastes.

You wanted to tear me down,
Have me see the world through your eyes,
Suffer in every moment,
Laugh at all of the pain in the world.

I watch the smile on your face.
Time wastes.

The clock ticks midnight,
Both boats remain.
I smile.
Humanity is left in the world.
I have won.

My Attempt At Emo Poetry

This poem has been completely revised about a billion times, but here is the first draft. It's dedicated, in part, to Jess G.



Christmas Ornament


The girl looked up into the sky.
Today was going to be a new day.

She would find a way to sweep up the shattered pieces of her heart,
Which, thankfully, were on the inside, so she wore her smile.

No one could know who she was:
The girl who had pulled the razor blade
Across her forearm until bright beads of red blood splattered
Her perfect pearly white skin,
The girl with the severely concave stomach
Who forced herself to not let food be a comfort
Until the only sound she knew were growls of hunger,
The girl with the tear-stained cheeks
From staying up all night
Until her tears eventually sang her to sleep.

No, she was supposed to be perfect.
She was going to pick up the shattered heart by herself,
Let the glass from it tear up her hand,
Instead of the hand of someone else.
She was planning on doing it all alone,
Life – that is.

She used to be happy,
Used to let the only person who was okay with her imperfection
Hold her in his arms,
While she cried the tears that proved she was flawed.
He compared her to a Christmas ornament,
His Christmas Ornament,
Everyone saw them as beautiful,
But no one ever thought about the dangerous process
That went into creating that beautiful blown glass decoration,
The glass so boiling hot and threatening to burst at any moment.
People just assumed it was perfect.



He left and her world tore apart,
Like a piece of paper being cut with sharp scissors.
The Christmas ornament was shattered.
It fell off the tree and was swept into the trash,
Only to be forgotten by its owner,
Until they stepped on the one piece that was left behind,
Complaining about their own pain,
But not caring that they might have broken the ornament even more.

The girl looked up into the sky.
Today was going to be a new day.