Fighting Is Our Favorite Pass-Time

I hate when we fight. I hate it.

All I want to do is make you happy and

I struggle between pushing my feelings aside,

or speaking out about them.

I hate when we fight. I love you.

I cry when you angrily tell me,

“Fine, just go do whatever you want.

Do whatever makes you happy. I don’t care.”

I hate it because the only thing

I can think of that makes me happy,

the only thing I want, is to run into your arms.

To hug you and kiss you, and forget about everything.

I hate when we fight because I can’t do that.

I can’t just curl up in a ball and cuddle with you

forever like I wish we could.

I hate when we fight.

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*Written when I was 14*

Pondering – This love is a chance, was I right to take it?

Wondering – there is no romance, will I be able to make it?

My hope is forlorn, my heart will be torn.

There is one great thing that I wish to see

and that is my love, right here with me.

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Be Your Own Hero

The world sometimes seems to be crashing down around me.

I close my eyes, afraid that if I open them, all will be gone.

I impulsively open them, expecting to see darkness alone.

My assumptions are true.

Wait – out there, far beyond…

There’s a light, I see it.

I feel a pull, an attraction towards it.

Soon I can make out what it is, and it’s my reflection;

a mirror with a happier image of myself staring back at me.

This version looks healthy,

She doesn’t seem to be draped in the layers of self-hatred that mar me.

Still feeling that pull, I walk over to the mirror

and into it… There I am.

Overwhelmed with home, love, normalcy.

Or so I thought.

All turned away, disintegrating into nothingness.

I’m forced back into the darkness, the loneliness.

Someone – Something approaches me.

It is love. It is me. I am free and unafraid.

I am happy.

I made myself happy.

 

 

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Your eyes are windows.

Through them I can see your soul,

and it’s beautiful.

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You Are What You Write

A poem is a writer’s thoughts,

a skill that cannot be taught.

it doesn’t have to rhyme though,

let your soul do the writing.

It’s an art made by beautiful minds,

that other beautiful minds can feel.

Are you a beautiful mind?

A poem can be just meaningless words that mean everything.

Expression

Love.

Pain.

Confusion.

Worry.

Warriness.

Happiness.

Fear.

A poem is a song,

sung to the most wonderful melody.

A poem is wonderous,

deep, right, wrong.

The poem you write

is you.

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I trusted him… with every part of me.

Maybe it’s stupid to trust someone so much.

I knew what he was from the minute I laid eyes on him,

but to be honest, that’s probably what I fell in love with.

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Teach Me

You’re new to me, but I love to learn new things.

I want to learn what you love, what you hate,

what inspires you, what discourages you.

I want to learn what you look like and what you do

when you wake up, go to sleep, and dream.

I want to learn your passions and your fears.

I want to learn what your favorite food is and how to cook it.

I want to learn your favorite TV shows and episodes,

your favorite movie, your favorite band, your favorite song.

I want to learn what turns you off, and more importantly

I want to learn what turns you on.

I want to learn your deepest secrets.

I want to learn every detail of your past,

and I want to be around to learn your future.

I want to take forever to learn about you,

even if it only took a short time to learn to love you.

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