What am I without poetry, Without words, blossoming on the page? I would be but a shell of myself And you would find me
The wind– A finicky rush That has to be somewhere else All the time. The faint echoes of summer
dance in the sun watch it splatter over your face
Wet paper arrows quivering against the bright string of the bow. The arrows
Hi Dad. I’d like you to know I’m finally Unboxing each memory Framed
My heart Is a glass ball Delicate Awaiting somebody Who will cradle it gently
i am unsure where you are in this night. it is cold it is dark
flirting with death ring the bell and run she knows it was you but she lets you go you are waiting to die.
Muddled footsteps In the dirt, Wind in our ears, The sun Shrinks down beneath
Knowledge is pain, Knowledge is power. The beauty of knowledge Seems so tangible and so beautiful… That mankind must have it.
And we were always running never to but always from and always running... And we were always hurting never for but always from
I’m sorry I never told you About why I was so nervous around… I’m sorry I never confessed Because you moved on, And I didn’t.
We have tendencies to be self destructive and it was only ever our fault, yours and mine and we were never okay.
All I have to say Is I am incomplete A story left unwritten A page left unturned But that does not matter
star-drunk child, foolish in your fear— announce your cries to the night, feel the heat of life
