Picket fence girl. Board straight, with your heart in a tangle, your boy is saying he loves you, and you're happy aren't you? you're high school sweet hearts, stuck in a rut, thinking this is as good as it gets, optimistically. You're marking the days off your calendar, waiting for date in particular, but… Continue reading picket-fence girl.
I am not who I once was all my poetry seems to hit that resounding note maybe, I can't get past the fact I have murdered my old self, and no one notices or that I love watching bridges burn the charred remains of the 'glory days' a ghost wandering these hallowed grounds, why do… Continue reading burned bridges.
Her hands have a slight tremor. "Stop that; I am in control," she whispers to them. They have words written in pen--smudging on the ends--all over them. People tell her the ink will poison her, and she just laughs. Her eyes are held open by mascara and cups of coffee. No cream, no sugar, she… Continue reading innocence.
summer came and went took our innocence with the soft breeze adolescence; she caught up with us finally, after all these years from hiding from her we traded in our dolls for mixtapes and books our lightheartedness, disappeared when we fell in love someone else and forgot to love ourselves. our contented souls now… Continue reading summer.
I look in the mirror every morning. I look into the eyes of a girl, who is so tired. I brush her hair and paint her face. Yet no matter how much I paint and plaster, I can't hide her eyes. This girl, just wanted a few things. To be loved, to complete her dreams,… Continue reading Mirror.