Last night, did you go to sleep happy?
I'm fairly sure that I did.
Is it because I spent the evening with you, or because I layed down alone?
I left empty-hearted and full-headed. Worry creasing every inch of my juvenile features.
Funny I should mention my baby face...

what's it like up there after dark,
dancing around with your fire ablaze in their eyes?
can you read what they're writing?
a story of hands, and ink-smudged paper;
of feet, and the wearing down of thin rubber soles.
up there burning bright with your sisters in a spoon,
and your brothers in the bow,
can you see the tiny sparks beneath you?

How long has it been since you've been with me ( Read more... )

Occasionally, I wish the roles were reversed; you listening to my messes instead of me cleaning up yours. Sometimes my ears get tired of cleaning out the trash you leave behind. My mouth gets sick of spitting out all the bullshit you feed me.

I can't forever be your mosquito net. When I'm gone, I hope you get stung.

Tear down your towers or let me climb the bricks.
Either way, I'm coming in.

"Give me a boost!" I pleaded, my eyes saturated with false hope. You just shook your head, cracked a smirk, and held out your hands ( Read more... )

I used to feel so strong... Does my story measure up?

I wish I had something to show for my sixteen years other than scar tissue and tucked away memories.

I ramble, and I vent, and I never meet a means to end.

I may never understand myself.

But right now, I feel ... infinite.

I have a cardboard box. A box full of polaroids, snarled ribbons, and the frayed remains of letters sent in feigned affection. I keep this box to remind me to keep my hands out in front of me; to save myself before my face hits the pavement again ( Read more... )

Sometimes you just can't scrub hard enough.
I want to see your scarf billowing in the wind behind you,
and your hair whipping wildly at your rosy, chafed cheeks.
Fasten that last button, tie the sash tight.
Nothing can break that fort.

"Cha-chunk...cha-chunk...cha-chunk..." the gears on my aging wall clock shift menacingly. I'm not quite sure what or who it aims to terrorize on a normal day, but on this particular night that clock has targeted me and has excellent aim ( Read more... )