I don’t know if I just don’t have anyone to listen,
or if i’m scared that no one will listen,
I have been taught not to say how I feel,
Do not express myself.
Not constructively, and not at all.
My mom, “doesn’t want to hear it”.
I then sit and listen to everyone else.
I feel close to them that way.
People know things about me.
I share things.
Nothing that really matters.
I hate feeling two seconds away from crying.
Or crying to myself in the back of a plane with sunglasses on.
I’m not sure that anyone really knows how sad I am.

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It is music that soothes the tears that I cry.
It is songs of others that makes me feel accepted.
I am not alone in those times.
I am not unique or special. I know that.
Everyone hurts, sometimes.
I just don’t want to cry anymore.

Lost.

Piles everywhere.
My life in organized torture.
What the hell am I doing?
Can someone please tell me?

I could have lived in Arizona.
I could have stayed with friends.
I could have been with him.
I could have had it all.

I couldn’t, and really it wouldn’t.
But I could have tried.

Now, an OCD tornado surrounds me.
A year later I move again.
Looking for something that I will never have.

I tasted it in Arizona.
On my fingertips.
The sun comforted with the warmth on my face.
Held by my friendships.
Held by a man I could have seen loving.
Now lost. Again.

What the hell is a matter with me?
When will I learn?
When will I just stop running away from my life?

MMA

My words are disconnected lately.
thoughts strung together abstractly,
a combination of my heart and my brain.
I’ve got a crush.

You are just so damn perfect.

Status update

My poetry-Shit.
incoherent emotion.
I’m a complete mess.

It’s hard to explain a feeling that all of us feel but just can’t explain it in words, in just the right way. It’s like the reader can’t get it, because the words used just don’t quite express the intensity, the complexity, or simplicity of a feeling, a breath, a moment. It all becomes vague, overwritten, and trite. Well, jumping on the train. I want to remember this feeling, maybe only in the way I can, maybe in the way it was meant to be, intimately personal, connected to the inner workings of my soul. yep, that’s it, that fits, and thus begins a moment words cannot describe trite. 

It was only a fling. 

A collection of moments. 

Of touch and of breath.

It was only supposed to be then.

In a release of what was always meant to be.

Something we knew needed to happen,

but couldn’t until this moment.

But then you held my hand.

You moved my hair,

reached my neck with your nose.

You kissed me before the baseball game.

Quivering, my being and nerves.

you sent me into a shiver.

Comfort, openness, honesty.

You cared for me. 

I want you forever.