to be:

to want,

to taste,

to see,

to think,
to destroy,

to feel,

to love,
to hate,

to hurt,

to bleed,

to be human

     

 

               

                 

            

dear mom and dad

i've opened up more to my window in the dead of the night
then i have to the both of you combined

and i like it when you guys trust me 

but sometimes i wonder why it's half past 12 am and you haven't called.
you both let your temper slip out of your hands a little too easy
over spilled milk and broken plates
or misplaced tools and dirty dishes
but i always try and be patient with you, i've lost things too.

mom..

i've always hated how much make up you wear and how you try and sing along to every song that comes on the radio yet i never let myself say anything,
because you've always liked to sing

but i think you're beautiful

and your heart is always in tune in all the right ways.

you told me when i was younger that boys would do anything to get to my body

and i didn't believe you

and the other night i read your journal from high school

and my heart broke when i read "i wish i could talk to my mom about these kinds of things"

"i hope my daughter will talk to me about stuff like this"

because i wrote the same things in my journal

and dad...

i love you more than you know

and i remember the first time i saw you cry 

laying in a hospital bed, i didn't see you as weak

because it wasn't your fault, you've always done everything you could possibly do for this family

and i pray that my husband will be as wise as you've grown to be.
but i think your eyes would rest better at night if you weren't staring at a screen all day
and your heart would be fuller if you put your phone away at the dinner table

you guys drive me crazy and nothing brings me to tears faster then seeing you two fight and sometimes i worry that you won't love the rest of the grandchildren as you do the first
but i love you
and i know you're trying your best

what a beautiful thought

there's two ways you can create life;

making love

&

making art

Lillian

"do you like it?" she asked me

"of course!"

I looked at the sheet of paper with pink crayon strewn all over

and some blue lines here and there 

"is it pretty?" 

"yes lily, it is very pretty"

her eyes lit up

she looked at me, smiled and got right back to her coloring

and my heart broke

for one day, that light will dim with the words of adolescence

telephone

It was like she had all her mistakes tatooed upon her forehead.

she couldn't see all the words etched into her skin
but she heard them
the words dug deep by all the boys she didn't mean to kiss

1 too many
2 too many
too many

walking down the hundreds of halls with her head down
doing her best to not trip over their bitter thoughts.
thoughts of people who have only heard of her through the telephone
where one thing lead to another
and "pretty"
evolved into words that sting at the sound

but she keeps walking
she always does
'cause sticks and stones will break your bones
but words will never hurt you

she wore a hat everyday
and he'd wonder why she would

hiding under the brim
covering up her faults like a bad hair day
she'd comb and brush and wash and brush.
dyeing it different colors
dying for a new start
dying, aching, pleading

so she wore a hat

and he saw her everyday
wondering if she knew the beauty she held
oh how graceful she was with every step
careful not to step on others hands

and that moment he saw her
vunerablity climbing up her spine
she removed the burden from upon her head

and all he saw was her eyes,
and they stared at her scars

my mom told me to never self-diagnose myself

i remeber when you pushed me off,
then the Fall came.
i still remember the bitter chill of the air
and ever since then then i haven't stopped falling
and what's funny is that you think I'm talking about love
but thats where i fell from

I remember how the air got colder and my bed got warmer and seemed to be the only thing that wanted me to stay around for lunch.

and i feel dumb for just talking about some "teen love story" but we all go through it eventually because we've gotta learn how to get our hearts broken some how & i've always wondered why people mostly write poetry about heart break. but I guess it's because the best stories are always behind our scars. 

 now the trees are changing again and the stems are getting weak at the knees

and I've always envied the leaves because at least they hit the ground at somepoint

I got sick with the change of the season
the doctor said it's just a cold
but it feels a lot more like nostolgia

"I love you"

those words sound so much better coming out of your mouth

I hope they taste like honey.