Poetry

I should know better

Because you being gone 

Will save me

Even while you remain in my mind

Sometime soon 

My heart will forget you

To make room for a girl

A girl named Amelia 

Playboy

That’s what I should call you

Manipulator

Heart breaker

Emotionless little boy

Convinced me 

All the world was in your eyes

Told my heart to you

Tore my insides out 

My babysitter,

Brother,

Sister,

And I,

Huddle on the green couch.

Her laptop,

Shiny silver,

Is opened

The ideas flows through my hands, 

Pressing the keys to make it appear on the page.

Despite its small appearance,

You can still see it.

The corner of your eye,

Controls your brain.

It works it.

Lilac 

Colors blend 

Soft pink  

Scarlet 

Fades 

Blood orange 

Mixes with the white 

From across the pallet 

Yellow 

swift locks of golden hair belonging to—

a girl once invisible that now has a place in this world,

guitar stained with teardrops,

that is worn out by playing her song.

golden fireworks blazing from the sky—

Stuck in the constant cycle of being healthy and unhealthy

Eating nothing at all then eating too much, eating too much then nothing at all. 

Depressed then happy, happy then depressed. 

looking up at the sky,

i can understand

why ancient people thought

the earth was flat

and the sky was a dome

our own personal snow globe

only,

we're trapped in it.

now we know

When the rivers turn to blood,

we will know

that our violence,

our unending savagery, our cruelty,

things we pass off as normal,

has gone too far.

When the rivers turn to blood,

we will know.

little lions

poking up through the sidewalk cracks

little lions

rambling along the sides of hills

little lions

puffy yellow stars shining like the sun

Pine trees

Maple trees

Birch trees

(and all the other ones,

too)

Summer river water

Winter lake ice

(and everything in between,

too)

Light flurries

Hard snow storms

Icicles

I was born in the morning

when the wind's gentle hands

would fly past me- laughing

should we run through the land

I was born as the birds were

under the eaves

of a soothing huckleberry