-------------------Cracked Screens; Misunderstood Scenes------------------

I was trying to write something,

something that would make you feel this.

This…

pain.

This ache.

This hurt.

That I feel.

I placed my trembling hands on the keys,

and a lump formed in my throat.

 

I moved the mouse around,

and my head began to spin into a dizzying blur.

 

I whispered your name at the screen,

and tears slowly slid down my face.

 

Nothing could more effortlessly describe

what you did to me.

I’m now broken.

 

Just like my heart,

my mind,

and my computer.

​

------------------------------------------Pause------------------------------------------

I know the chapter has ended, yet

I cannot not turn the page.

I just need to sit

in the realization that

it’s over.

I have read the ending.

I know the final score.

I will turn the page,

I just need a moment more.

​

​

---------------------------------------The Lie In Believe---------------------------------

I believe my first kiss will be perfect:

A candlelit room with rose petals

My heart will be beating out of my chest,

as if its hum is mood music.

My eyes locked on his, his on mine.

A strong, tough hand will brush my forearm.

He’ll bite his lips and look at mine.

Our bodies will turn, as though our souls are speaking to one another.

I’ll slowly close my eyes,

he’ll lean forward.

 

Pop,

Smile.

Perfection,

nothing less.

 

“I love you” he’ll whisper.

I’ll sit back and wonder what my life was like before,

the most magical moment of my entire existence.

 

We sit down on his couch

beige, bland, lumpy.

He looks down,

my heart beating so fast it’s, murmur drowns out the movie blasting in the background.

Eye locking,

our bodies clumsily move to re-position our faces to one another.

Bodies stiff, July heat suffocating, I close my eyes,

he leans in.

 

Smack,

Hold.

Nothing.

 

“It’s my first kiss too...sorry”

I sat back and wondered what life was like before I knew I didn’t love him,

how I existed before learning I lived in a lie that was love?

 

-----------------------------Writing Raw / / Raw Writing-------------------------

They tell me to write.

Write.

Write what’s raw.

What’s real.

Raw.

Raw.

Say it again.

Raw.

Raw like the bullet hole that I covered with band-aids rather than faced?

Raw like the cuts on your wrists were?

Raw like the evening sky that became dusk to then to dawn that night he lost it all.

Raw.

Raw.

Well is it raw enough yet?

Raw.

Raw enough to resurface the tears we so long restrained in order to keep order in our meaningless mediocre lives?

Raw like the faces we face everyday that unknowingly each try to convince themselves that getting out of bed again is worth it.

Raw like their bodies felt after they had been back-stabbed and left to die by the very people that promised them they would never leave?

That raw

...

Too raw?

But they’re just words.

Empty words to fill a page.

No value, no merit, no future.

Just a blank past with the lost hope to exceed beyond their initial view’s value.

Just words.

Just write.

 

Raw.

​

----------------------------------Paint Me as the SkY--------------------------------

I am not normal.

Don’t you dare label me beige.

I am no paint swatch

you can just throw away.

 

My spirit is bright,

a color beautiful to behold.

Lollipop yellow, no even more bold.

Closer to a periwinkle as perfect as the sky.

Don’t you have a clue, I could never be so cut and dry.

Not a squash brown.

Nor a color to bring you down.

My inner flame as passionate as the fire in my eyes

 

So no,

I am not normal.

I couldn’t be labeled that if I tried.

My precocious pansy purple radiates from inside

 

You’re walls my colors too will cover,

because soon enough you’ll discover,

I’ll never be a paint swatch

You can just throw away.

​

 

-----------------------------------It Was Only a Kiss---------------------------------

It was only a kiss.

Only a kiss.

A kiss...

Kissing with something past the initial level of kissing, yes

Yes.

YES

But it was only a kiss.

 

Until it wasn’t.

Until is was no longer a movie, but it was me.

Sitting in the seat of my car:

Mascara running down my cheeks,

crying off my glue-on eyelashes,

all because some boy said it was

only a kiss to him.

 

On that frigid night,

After the party.

In the back of my car.

Drunk of what I thought was love.

Who would have thought love burns as it goes down?

 

Giddy and laughing,

I let myself loose control.

I let you take that control out from under me,

by being on top of me.

 

But it was only a kiss.

 

But it was oh so much more that that to me.

It was never just a kiss.

You were never just a boy.

It’s never just one drink.

One kiss is never enough.

Everything is never enough.

Enough is never enough.

I am never enough.

 

But it was only a kiss.

 

 

---------------------------------Finally Ever Never---------------------------------

I recently read a story

of four sons

and a loving mother.

 

These four brothers were finally in one room.

All together,

just as their mother

had so desperately wished for.

 

Only,

she wasn’t there to see it.

They were there to see her.

 

There she laid in the box

Pink flowers

-Hydrangeas,

her favorite-

surrounded her.

 

Each son wore the tie she had given to him

the Christmas prior,

The one they had taken out of the box

Only thirty minutes before.

 

Each daughter-in-law wore black

to honor the woman

who had given them the man of their dreams.

 

It was in this room

that these four men stood,

separated for so long,

finally reunited.

 

Death had achieved a feat

no amount of effort could.

 

So does that mean

That if I died

You would come to see me,

 

finally?

 

-------------------------------------Running to You---------------------------------

Scholastic Silver Key Award 2018

 

Someone once asked me who I would run to if the worst thing had just happened to me.

 

I replied that “it would probably depend on who I was around”

 

Then they asked, “what if it was a room full of everyone you had ever loved, or been loved by?”

 

I stopped cold in my tracks.

 

I know who exactly I would run to.

But then again, I don’t

Because the person I want to run to did the worst thing to me:

he broke my heart.

I would want to run to him

But I wouldn’t.

And I wouldn’t run to anyone else, because it’s too hard to tell someone you’re not ok.

Watching the light dim in their eyes,

Their breath quickening,

Their voice changing

It’s almost like seeing their heart break.

Their body language portrays a panicked response

because they don’t know what to do.

And then comforting them,

When you’re the one who needs to be comforted.

So, I would just stand there.

By myself.

All alone.

Where I couldn’t hurt anyone else with my pain.

 

“So, who would it be?”, they echoed

 

“to you”, I lied

​

-----------------------Burning Passion With a Dead Flame---------------------

Scholastic Silver Key Award 2018

Your eyes always spoke for you

They were like a deep blue ocean, pulling me in with their current

Your hands communicated your so called “passion”

The way they brushed against my skin

Somehow the thought still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up

 

Yet you were never happy

You were never in the moment

You were never there

You could be laughing with me,

Talking with me,

Kissing me,

Yet

You would be millions of miles away

With her.

 

She doesn’t love you, she wants you

And that’s the difference between us.

She wants to possess you.

I want to cherish you.

 

I knew I would love you the moment we met,

It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments.

One of those stereotypical moments.

An ‘all I could see was him’ moments.

My mind told me to be friends, but my heart, it wanted more

So did yours, or at least, that’s what I thought

 

Well, you can tell your stupid heart to get itself together

before it comes crawling on its hands and knees begging me take it back,

Because I have fallen asleep listening to its rhythm one to many times

 

I waited for you,

I listened for you

All I got in response was nothing.

No call.

No text.

Nothing but an empty screen and a broken heart

 

That’s when I knew I loved you,

And when I knew you didn’t love me

​

--------------------------------------The Memory--------------------------------------

Scholastic Silver Key Award 2018

The sky was purple with a hint of pink on the horizon line.

not blue

not orange

not black

Purple.

With a hint of pink on the horizon

 

The grass was wet, but not soaked, just drizzled.

Not soaked

Not dry

Not damp

Just drizzled.

 

The fire was low, but still bright and warm as when we lit the first spark.

Not grand

Not out

Not blazing

Just low

But still just as bright and warm.

 

You are laughing, the laughing where your eyes do more than your mouth

You are kissing, the kissing where your mouth does more than your hands

Your hair sticks up, but just on the right side of your head

But that little tuft had never bugged me for a moment

 

Oh,

But your laugh

Even the winter snow melts just a little when it hears it

 

Your eyes reflected exactly what they saw

Our life

Our family

Our love

Our future

 

But I also see another memory

I’m alone, but not the kind where I am by myself, I am with someone.

Not in a crowd

Not by myself

Just with someone

And that someone

is you.

 

We had never been more like strangers,

Not even when we first met

 

I guess that it’s true you can’t switch,

At least not smoothly,

From strangers

To friends

To lovers

To strangers

 

I see one more memory

Only this time, I am watching it play out in front of me.

You’re there, not close enough to see me, but close enough to feel the past, like a cool breeze down your neck.

Or should I say

like the soft kiss from the woman your arms are now wrapped around.

You’re not too close

Not too far

Just there.

 

If you look up,

You can see this memory too,

Staining my face.

Ruining my makeup.

Breaking my heart.

Burning itself into my memory

​

 

--------------------------------I Tried to Write a Poem----------------------------

I tried to write about love,

But all I got was pain

The agony in self inflicted wounds

Caused by the emptiness of

A word

A smile

A bed

 

I tried to write about hope,

But all I got was loss.

The grief of an aching soul

Due to the death

Of someone still alive

 

I tried to write about trust,

But all I got was anger.

Over a battle lost to misunderstanding

A broken promise

A stolen kiss

A silent stair

 

I tried to write about the future,

But all I got was the past.

Moments dug up from the depths of souls

Trying to save their once happy selves

From a future fated with despair

 

I tried to write about love,

But that’s the thing about love.

Love demands to be heard

Demands to be felt

Demands to be remembered

 

Love requires itself to be burned into memories,

Only our minds chisel and morph it into something new.

Something hideous

Something unrecognizable

 

Love began that hope,

That flame that sparked your ideas.

Though our thoughts changed it to loss

When plans were completed incomplete

 

Love started that trust,

That planted seeds of romance

But spring soon passed, and the flowers began to wilt

As did the love away from our thoughts

Decomposing into something vile

 

Love put you on the path to the future,

The path that got you here

This moment, though different from what was originally planned

It’s here, and nothing can change it

And nothing should change how you see its origin

 

Because that’s what happens when you try to write about love.

You get it’s outcomes

Not its true form

Love is not just patient

Love is not just kind

Love is everywhere and invisible to all

 

So when you try to write about love

Don’t dig very far

Love is all around

 

All you have to do is clear your mind of your misconstrued views of it

 

 

-----------------------------I Started to Write a Poem----------------------------

Scholastic Silver Key Award 2018

I started to write a poem

About the new “special someone” in my life,

To show you that I’ve moved on

That I’m no longer a broken mess inside.

 

I wrote how this new special someone and I met,

how fate un-twisted our pasts,

And intertwined our futures.

 

I wrote about how he made me feel,

when his arms wrapped around me

It gave me strength to conquer the world.

 

I wrote about his eyes

How their sea green tint could electrify a room,

And me.

 

I wrote how our first exchange was different,

A random bump

A shy smile

A luke-warm hello

 

I wrote how you made me feel.

How your hands on my hips

More often than not took more than they gave

 

Then,

I tried to write about your eyes,

And how they didn’t have the sparkle his did when he saw me.

How their color….

 

But, what was their color?

I couldn’t remember.

Their focused look had left me.

 

That’s when the realization hit me,

That I don’t need to prove to anyone that I’ve moved on,

 

That loss alone proved it for me.

​