QueenBee

Missing someone is a funny thing, so simple a concept yet so complex in its effects.

For me, missing you is listening to your favorite music because you are not there to play it.

i remember my first day of middle school

i was wearing washed-out jeans and a t-shirt from Target

my short brown hair was parted to the side

If purple is the hardest color
For the eye to see
Then maybe all us purple-lovers
Are seers to the fairylands
Where dawn spirits sing
And poet bells ring
Harbingers of the night
To our awaiting ears.

Our roads cross,

fate set in the stars.

When will our roads split?

Love written in the sea,

wind dancing with the storm.

Clinging to hope like moss,

We didn’t see what was ours.

teardrops fall

down my face

eye's burning

i don't know why

i am always angry

always scared

maybe that's who i have become

teardrops fall

i try to wipe them away

before you notice

“Why do the small things matter to you?”

I’ve never been asked this question, 

but I’ve thought about it numerous times. 

Why do they?