Afternoon

I do not dream of you anymore.

No longer do you inscribe your insignia upon my chest,
and suffocate me when I strive to breath.

You are no longer the violent vehemence of the sea,
but the fog as it dissipates between my fingertips.

No longer do I need poems,
to express how I feel.

You offered me words,
when there were none.

And I suppose I will always be thankful for that.

But you are no longer the ghoul beneath my fingernails,
or the ghost that lingers in the blinds in the morning.

I have found my own sunlight without you.

Taxi-Cab

I am not the dull sadness
of a cream colored room
at nine thirty on a friday night.

      A room identical to yours.

I am the crisp sway
of the evening fog,
as it blankets it's creations
with a remote kindness.

I am human,
and the poison that seeps
through my brain
is not my master.

It does not control me.

I am happy.

Strength

Sound mutes and captivates,
the forgotten parts of my weary soul:
renders me silent when I have considered myself defiant,
engulfs my broken limbs and
notches me to the concrete that describes my
grave.
The words that tip from the precipice of sanity and
hold together the frostbitten fingers of my courage.

Use of Force

His hands were anchors tied to the sea,
and his eyes were promises he could never keep.
His smile was the ocean as it consumed the shore,
and his heart was the landscape I'd been promised to explore.
His knees were the buckles looped around my hips,
and his whistle was the secret that never reached my lips.
His footprints were the memories I'd scrawled across my skin,
and his breath was my heartache as it sighed along my chin.

Before You Start Your Day

She puts her hand,
on the place where he left.
On the cavity that contained
her heart,
where he carved his name
on her like a possession.
And no matter how hard
she rubs,
or how hard she pulls,
she can't forget the words
he'd published on her chest
for everyone to see.

But it's falling apart.

When you look in the mirror,

what do you see?

My mother sees a women,

lost in her own world.

But she had to hold control,

or else she would start to fall.

My father sees a man,

who believes in all he sees.

A sharp sense of reality,

and a never ending breeze.

My sister sees a girl, 

not worth  anyones time of day.

She never sees  perfection,

not even when it stares her in the face.

When I look in the mirror,

there are multiple things I see.

I see a girl,

not quite grown up,

but faltering in belief.

A girl who's haunted by her dreams,

by her reality,

and everything she feels.

A girl who wants to be it all,

but without the guts to try.

I see a girl,

who's haunted by her sight.

Try to find a way to screw my head on right.

I always know,
that eventually everyone will just forget me.
That I will just become,
another face within the crowd.
And even though I'll remember it all,
It'll hurt more than I could ever imagine.
One day, my heart will stop beating.
And then, finally, I will be at peace with myself.
I know that I'm not much,
but I try my hardest to impress you.
All I ever know,
is that to you, I am nothing.
And while I hang on for dear life,
I'll eventually have to let go.