Request

<sub>7 lines 7 beats per

"Write me a poem about
love and confusion," she said.
I accepted her request,
understanding inside that
fondness is never without
some sort of bewilderment;
in fact, they go hand in hand.
Who has loved sans confusion?</sub>



At least, that's how I see it. If everything just falls in place for you, that's great.

Hats

_{Home is not where your heart is or
Where you hang your hat,
For my heart has been divided and
I have no hats
(except for those
I wear in snow).
I would rather have it so that
Home is where I live.
That way, no matter where I move,
My heart is with me too
(and my hats).}


Just a cute little thing.

Lifeline

<sub>3 lines 11 beats per

If I had the courage, perhaps I would have
Spoken the words I thought nearly constantly-
“You are my lifeline- without you, I would drown.”</sub>

PMS

_{I am all sharp edges and angles, invisible spines bristling at the thought of human contact- I am your worst nightmare in teenage female form, angry eyes and hostile posture, body language screaming, “Do not come near me!” So back away, all you well meaning but temporarily small brained just trying to be friends- just let me hide away until this cycle ends.}


It happens to the best of us... and me.

Meagan

3 stanzas, 3 lines 7 beats per

<sub>She is swirls of scheduled some-
times and wonderful colors.
Distance cannot dilute her.

If there is a show- she has
heard of it, read the reviews,
and grown a strong opinion.

Words are sharper on her tongue.
Nerd buddy, therapist, and
sharer of brainwaves- Meagan</sub>

I was supposed to post this March 7th, since that was her birthday, but... I didn't.
Obviously.
But I broke it up into three stanzas because I've known her three years & her birthday is 3-7 hence the 3 lines & 7 syllables per bit.
So clever of me.

White

<sub>6 lines, 9 beats per

I love it when the rooftops are white,
and blend into the stark winter skies.
It is possible to imagine
that in between them, there are no lines,
but only the blank winter canvas
promising to be filled in by Spring.</sub>

Bed

_{It is laying in two feet of snow
that I realize,
whether crystals of ice
or leafy bough
nature already provides
the best beds I know.}



So, just got over a level three snow emergency in this part of town. In case you're one of the lucky folks who don't know what a level 3 is, it's when you're not allowed to go out on the roads because it's too dangerous. Only emergency vehicles or cops, hence the fact that you can be arrested if caught driving.
I love sleeping in snow~♥

Greed

_{I cannot help but hold you close,
and never want to let you go.
Greed, we know, a sin of man,
is also a sin of mine.
I will watch the numbers grow,
smile and think,
“This belongs to me.”}




I can't help it- I like money. Which is ironic, considering that I'm poor...

Cigarette

_{Her eyes are hollow,
darkly shadowed.
I’m looking for scars,
but find none so far
(this is reassuring).
“It’s been a long day,” she says
apologetically,
glancing back at me
before lighting a cigarette.
I shrug, and ask for gum.
It is then when I realize
that the emptiness in her eyes
is swallowing me.
I shake my shoulders,
and brush the feeling away.}

Ayana

_{She hates pictures, but I love to tease
Following her dodges with the lens-
We are good friends.
She lives next door to me,
And I will walk into her room with ease.
She fakes indignation, and I resignation-
Later, she defends her sharp exterior,
And we laugh together
Over the faceless photographs.}

Wax

_{Love hurts like hot candle wax on your fingertips- burns and stings with real heat, but you try again every time to leave it perfectly whole- separation of finger from waxy shell ends in crumbled pieces as does lover from lover turned friend or enemy, heart wounded but fixable- just put it back into the candle.}


It's true, isn't it? I mean, you wouldn't really think of it so simply, but I know I'm right.

Over

_{I am through dreaming of you, sweet brown eyes. Uncertainty and distance may not have been enough to divide, but combined with hard facts makes it hard not to face the truth I have denied for so long. So, so long and farewell, good friend, for that is all you'll ever be to me; I am through with playing pretend.}


Therapy for myself, general girly teenage angst of getting over a guy. Yadda yadda.

(non)Sense

_{If I could answer all the whys and hows of love like she can speak words with ink paint and pen, I would let go all the caged birds of my heart and never fall again. But snow this long has kept me whole, and I will try my hardest not to melt- I cannot deny what he never felt.}


It makes sense to me, at least.

Dream

_{It was a strange dream,
full of oddities
and wild things.
Her ears had eyes;
she sang for him to come closer
and expected him to keep a distance and stay.
She was least expecting his touch,
immediately being hurled backwards then
into his arms again.
He was scolded and kissed-
they ended happily ever after, anyway.}

Scoliosis

_{I am always surprised to see her scars,
Thick parallel lines on her back.
Her body is so small in comparison,
And sometimes I feel the urge
To simply let go
and hold her close.
Because no matter how hard she tries,
Her back will never bend
Again,
Thick metal rods restricting the flow
Of what I know
To be something more than a still life.}



For one of my good friends.

Fated

There is no consolation
for this separation
except that we
(obviously)
were not meant to be.

Or, on the other hand, not fated.

Coffins

_{It was contemplating her coffin
(in my dream)
that I thought something
I didn’t think often-
There is nothing
quite like
Life.}

I bet if you just read the title Coffin, you'd think it'd be depressing.
I relish in shocking people.

Weak

_{He had to try many times
just to find
my pulse,
squinting at my arm
and concentrating hard
on the tiny needle that
bounced up and down.
There was a whispered comment
beneath his breath,
meant to put me at ease-
“Your heart is so weak,
it would take me seven days
to finally hear a beat.”
I faked a smile,
and took his words
to heart.}


I have a mystery illness...

Freckles

<sub>It was after the toilet incident, rinsing out my mouth, that I realized freckles are the sun’s way of saying, “I have been here,” and burst blood vessels look very much like freckles and declarations of love. Sun spots and age, wizened with utmost care. Unfortunately for me, sickness fades and once again I am reduced to twelve specks of darkened brown, mirroring each other on their respective sides (smaller in size-) and merriment, less crowded, seems so far from here.

I always wanted freckles...</sub>

Neck

<sub>13 lines, 10 beats per


It was a cold night, my feet having crept
up to her calves. It was after we had
settled the dispute of iced feet locale
that she added, “Every time I think I’m
falling for someone, I just scratch this scar
on my neck and think- This is what he’ll do
to your heart. It doesn’t work very well,
but the least I can say is that it helps.”
The night shone through her open window shades,
and I promised I’d never be afraid
to give someone the power to break my
heart. It is a few years later, and I
am laying in bed, scratching at my neck.</sub>