I Miss This.

That morning when I awoke to you.
Ditched school and work.
All day with each other.
Our conversations.
You: "What's untoasted toast?"
Me: "Bread."

Tell Me Darling,

Who stole the light from your soul?
I see the way you hold yourself
so
tightly.

Maybe you're afraid you'll float away.
You forget how love could be a dynamite lit at both ends.
Forget the fireworks of men
who pulled your hips
to prove that you were enough.

Forget thinking that this was supposed to hurt
as you ran head first into every heartache.

You are not a burning building.
And pain is not the only way to feel like you're alive.

Promises and Orange Juice.

Promises are a lost concept.
Because no one really understands the promise they make when they make it.
So when someone looks at me says, "I promise." I look back at them and swallow my giggle.
Because ahhh, another one too naive for this cruel world.
Believing in promises is like drinking Orange Juice.
You taste them after some sweet thing and their real horrible, sour taste comes out.
Makes you want to never taste something sweet again. Because if you do, the orange juice becomes sour.
So just don't believe in promises.

Letters to people who will never read them.

Dear Noah- Not quite sure why I still refer to you as Noah. You are obviously not my happy ending. I don't know what you really felt when you told me how you were feeling. I don't know if you were lying. Signs point to lies. Signs point to truth. I don't know which one it is. And quite frankly, I don't care anymore. You are my past. A past I can't get rid of. I don't know if I really want to either. You were the first. The one who taught me to love. Within us, I discovered passion. Thank you for that; now I can love someone else just as passionately.
Dear Marvel- All I really want to say to you is that I hope you find happiness. I was unfair to you. And a little unfair to myself. I went along with everything you said, kinda followed your lead without really looking at what I really wanted... I'm sorry I gave you false hope. I hope you find a really tan blonde, just like you like em..
Dear Ty- I can't even explain what this is. But it's something I never want to let go of. You're the first person ever blow Jacob out of the water. And that day we went hiking to the water fall and it decided to pour on us and you grabbed me and kissed me with passion that I haven't ever felt before. I looked into your eyes and saw something. Something in those brown eyes of yours. I think you might be the reason I'm here.

Another Love.

The understanding of only one love becomes real with each memory that I decide to feed from at night.
Was that real? So far gone that it seems to be nothing more than a dream.
A very vivid dream.
A dream swollen with highs.
What is this thing with, "first loves"?
Is it too much to ask that I only really love one person, and that one person is the one who loves only me?
Yes. Yes it is.
Because those who don't go through heart break. Heart break like I have, don't understand the hope that comes from the fallen love.
Another love. Another life time ago. Another rebellious heart ago.
What is this. I don't understand. My tears are fake. All my real tears are gone.
They've been used up, on another love.
Rebellious hearts come at too high of a price now days. And I can't afford it anymore.
All my money has been used up.
On another love.

Long Gone.

Everyday I look down to that locket around my neck and the every time I do the same word floods my mind.
WHY.
Why does the sky seem endless.
Why am I feeling such pain in my head all the time?
Why am I here in this bed at this exact moment?
Why am I feeling the way I do? Is it because someone else is making me feel this way?
Why did I have such feelings for Him for them to disappear when he wanted me most?
Why does that have to cause to much pain?
WHY is there so much pain?
Why do all my past actions seem to betray me now?
And then I remember, who cares? Or in the words of someone I trust, "Don't worry about it."
Everything happens for a reason. Everything has it's purpose.
My purpose just seems to be long gone by now.

Sometimes I play music while I write poetry. I choose the song that brings the mood I want. Some songs to help me come up with some insane metaphors or somethin.
The song I'm playing right now though doesn't help inspire me at all.
Yet I play it over and over again. Listening more carefully and intently every time I rewind the part with the accordion. Or the part with the saxophone.
Why?
For the same reason that despite you going to a different school walking through that one last night reminded me nothing of you.
For the same reason that just walking outside and glancing at the mountains doesn't remind me of that all nighter.
For the same reason I don't watch that instagram video over and over again.
For the same reason that I can finally get through that damn box without crying.
Because the star Rutheford doesn't remind me of you.
Because despite of the last time I went, I still can go to taco bell without feeling my heart sink.
Because I was so fixated on your shoulders that I ignored the part where your heart gave up.
Because I don't miss you. I don't miss the insane fights we had. Or the passionate make up make outs.
Or the way you looked at me like I was a piece of gold surrounded by dirt.
Or that night that we blasted 80's music and drove into the sunset.
Or that time when I was a better tuber than you.
I don't miss any of it.