Writing

I really hate it,

being the one who messed up

the one who ruined the relationship

the bad guy

the person someone vents about because I was someone they used to love

we all have weapons 

Today I saw my sister

the way she used to be—

not because she changed,

but because I remembered.

She was just there,

messy with noodles,

doing nothing special at all.

And somehow

this will be

the first 

and the last 

dance 

we'll share 

I'll be wearing pink

riding high on a childhood dream

waltzing 

like it's 1945

What happens if I fall in love

And no one's there to catch me

What if I give them the world

And they ask for the universe

What do I do if falling in love

Is like free-falling but not knowing where

Anger. 

Anger is a thing I am not proud of.

Yet it happens, where I cannot control what I say or do.

The day is soft and silent.

 Except for the quiet chirp of the crickets,

 and the lonely breeze. 

The pond has no animals to swim in its glory.