FallingEvery time I think of that dayFalling3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When you told me you were scared
I beat myself up over it
"Why did I let her go?"
"Couldn't I have said something different?"
"Stupid me "
I wanted to tell you that there was no reason to be afraid
I wanted to tell you that I would never hurt you
I wanted to tell you that I could help you
I wanted to tell you that I want to be with you
Yet all I could say was
"If it's only going to hurt you
If it's only going to make you suffer
Then we shouldn't be together"
You asked if I would be okay
If it was fine with me
I said yes
I would get over it
That night, I fell from the sky
And slid across concrete on my face
And tripped on a rock off a cliff
Into a pit of broken glass
I don't think I will ever be okay
I don't think I will get over it
And I don't think I'll ever stop thinking about you
A Love PoemYou made me smile and laughA Love Poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You made me want to be better
To run farther,
To love harder
You made me love to fall
I wanted to be the one to hold you
I want to tell you I love you
I want to kiss you in the rain
Sometimes it burns
Every time I think of you
The pain, the boredom they stop
And suddenly I'd be content to lie still for awhile
If only I could feel your heart against mine.
I'm not a good person,
And this isn't a good poem,
I don't always speak the truth,
But this time it's true:
I love you.
someday you will be loved. Years and years ago, I met a wandering boy with a guitar.someday you will be loved.6 years ago in Teen More Like This
I found him in the park, of all places, playing a song to the trees. It was summer that year, and the air was crisp and dry. A cold breeze washed over me as I watched him from a safe distance-close enough to hear the strum of his guitar, yet far enough away to not be seen.
His head was down so I could not see his face, and yet I knew there was a kindness about him, although he seemed rather unapproachable. He had been dressed in all black, in a classy sort of way, and his chocolate hair was brushed softly over his eyes by the wind. His skin was light, pale as paper, and it seemed, at the time, like he'd spent his entire life behind the safety of brick walls.
I fell asleep listening to him play, my back against the trunk of a tree, and woke to the same gentle rhythm. A song that could only be described as mesmerizing slowly pulled me b