poemFB

rest your weary head, Cinderella, your days are spent worrying for others and cleaning their mess. I think I am the only one still noticing your smile, you are a stranger in your own mirror. you draw little hearts across your hand and I know it is because you still believe: in magic in love in prince charmings and falling stars. you can still put on your glass slippers, I promise they wont break under the crushing expectations of others. besides, you're beautiful, you know that? you are allowed to fall, I'll do my best to help you up. despite what you think, you are not just a girl. you are hope in a blue dress, something unde

let me tell you about kisses and catnaps and the creases of your eyes when you smile. about fairytales and how none of this is fair to me. let me tell you about everything i have lost and the promises i knew i could never keep. about your lips and how i thought, 'this is it for me.' i miss 4 am and i miss the moonlight holding us. i miss you sleeping 5 minutes until forever and i miss you, simply because i miss you. i miss falling stars and i miss my arms around you. i miss the parts of me you used to love and i miss you, simply because i miss you. i miss knowing i could always make you smile and i miss knowing you could always d

I've come to see myself for what I am translucent, filled empty with excuses with coursing maps of veins bled dry over pock marked pencil limbs and the hidden promises I keep sewn up in the cobwebs between my spindled little fingers. I am not here. I am a vapor. sharing sighing settling bones too heavy to fly with ghosts who long to do the same. What am I but the dreams you've chased as a child? Cold faded footprints on the linoleum. I too had ambitions to hold the oceans in my palms and stand shoulder to shoulder with the giants washing away weathered marks with the tides to be born brand new, but I am not. I am an

I am 23 and who is to plan my funeral? I need to bury my dreams and realize I may not ever leave a legacy behind me. I have hidden toy soldiers beneath my bed because I have proven to myself that I cannot guard my own heart, but there are still pieces stolen and others returned damaged. I look at a reflection that cannot possibly be my own and ask myself, 'what's left to give, if I've given everything?' I have tasted the salt of my tears and found them to be no more useful than the reasons that caused them. There is pain brewing and I ask myself, 'where did this grow?' I have cursed the sun for not giving me enough light to see t

you should know that poets are more than dreamers and there are feelings hidden in the creases of our palms. that there are dormant memories that only come alive when you occupy the spaces between my fingers and the time between seconds.   i want you to believe i am worth more than crow marked emerald eyes and the dirt beneath my fingernails. to say that you see change in me, and that there is more growing in my heart than the weeds of my mistakes.    tell me there are colors you have never seen and that you harbor the same resentment for the four hundred midnights that have come to separate us. about velveteen

"Hello little bird, you mean the sunshine to me." The moon chirped to her.

you could always love me like the notes to your favorite songs, plucked from velvet and laid below the earth with rose petals and speeches from family members about the ills of addiction and how I was never strong enough to make this on my own. this is not what I was promised, alone in your passenger seat, whispering that this will be the last time. where did the feelings of contempt grow from? I devoured my lungs and hollowed my  frame and found nothing but the will to fly, wingless angel. I know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west and I know I will die before my time from the addictions I have chosen.  Fe

and it's a lot like sunday mornings and cup rings on the coffee table and cartoons in the afternoon and 'what do you want for breakfast?' and 'I dunno, what do you want?' and finally deciding on cat naps in each others arms   and it's a lot like drowsy eyes and tired sighs and the space between my fingers where yours always seem to be and waking up to baby kisses and pulling me back to bed saying 'just 15 more minutes' and me pretending you were really saying 'forever'   and it's a lot like 4am when no one else is awake and laughing until your sides ache and humming lullabies until we fall asleep and waking up to dre