Its always the turn for the worst for me, 

when is it my turn for the best?

I keep turning right but they’re turning left and 

I haven’t been able to find the time to rest. 

I had to fight for all I want in life

against obstacles that shouldn’t exist

No friends or family to understand

the sorrows I resist.

Six more pills, and down the rabbit hole I’d fall

But I wasn’t sure if I was ready

I wanted to walk with you a little longer 

cause your gaze was holding me steady

You see, what I want most in life is to smile

and I do, but they can never last

I just wish I could find someone to stick around

But they run and become part of my past

I picture my future, a photograph of a bare wall

I try my best to ignore the lone tear on my cheek

I meant all I said, and I still do

But, who could ever love such a freak?

A freak like me, so lonesome and weary

I just sit here so sad, and I refuse to cry

Prosperity lives in my chest but not in my life

My life is just full of flowers that bloom and then die. 

One hit, two hits, maybe after about five

I started to see with the eyes of a god.

I could see the truth, I could see the light,

I could see all that was created, I could see all wrong and all right.

I could see you.

I kept looking away and I wouldn’t speak

You had a glow around you, so unique. 

You have this, small like mark on your right cheek…

If I could be anything when I grow up, I’d be that mark.

Always with you, always there. Beautiful. 

Your face had to be sculpted with the utmost care, 

In my gods eyes you’re flawless, including that one mark, right there.

I’m afraid to touch you, to kiss you, although I yearn

But I feel so unworthy, even though-

Three hits, four hits, six hits and still

With my gods eyes, and gods hands, I feel like you deserve more

You are so beautiful. And that smile…

even with the eyes of a god, that smile of yours is too bright

Too beautiful.

So although I am above all that is life, 

I get down on my sacred knees 

and I pray to the stars,

that you will be able to find worthiness in me

jewelhxc:

I am probably the strangest girl she’s ever met,

Calm down, breathe, don’t scare her

I really want her to like me

Take it easy, breathe, be cool

Our hands just brushed

Don’t freak, breathe, don’ t be awkward

I just want her to be happy

Be yourself, breathe, don’t scare her.

I touched her hand…

Breathe. 

I have this reaccuring dream about a beauty queen

Face lined with age, dwelling on her glory days

She’s no longer a little girl, past the time of a woman

yet every morning, she adds product to her curls

She sits by the window, so passers by can see her, 

Amoungst the cloud of perfume that she mistakes for air. 

Breathe it in and smile, that’s a talent of hers, 

as well  tumbling, dancing, singing and juggling. 

Her trophies are all lined up on a shelf near her wall

First place- First place- Best of them all

Best, yes she was. And for her every day was Sunday,

so she’d wake up each day and put on her best dress.

Each morning she’d pretty herself up to sit in that chair

Right by that window, breathing in the sweet polluted air

Aging beauty queen, with the curls in her hair.

Why do I keep dreaming of her? Could it be

that somehow by some circumstance that queen is me?

Is that window just my mirror that I glare into for hours, 

Wondering what I can do to smooth the blemishes on my face

Putting on my best so when I step outside I can hear people say

“Damn, you look good in that dress”

I’m always searching for approval, for a reaction to my style

And sometimes I’ll try to be normal, to fit in for awhile

But I need to slow down, I need to stop checking out my reflection

before I start leaving pieces of myself trapped withing that glass prison

I need to stop caring so much, and start looking away,

before I become a beauty queen, living in decay.

I met you in highschool

You looked like a really hot actress that nobody liked except for me.

I kept picking you to be in my English group so we can chat about books 

I thought you were so captivating. 

I never used that word for anyone before, but its English class so I guess you were definitely stimulating my mind. 

My mind is stuck on you. I keep looking at my phone hoping you texted me something sweeter than before. 

I don’t want you to be sad. I love it when you smile, you have the most genuine smile I have ever seen, it seriously has such a wonderful glow to it.

I was never attracted to smiles before. I was always into the eyes.

Eyes lie though, but in your case, they wrap themselves in mystery.

Majestic clouds shield your true thoughts and feelings for me, or anything else for that matter

Matter, you matter. I don’t understand why, and this is the most challenging why I’ve ever come across

I challenged myself in every subject, except relationships.

I took the easy way out, turn left and date the target next to you. 

If target fails, he may have friends.

I chased people I knew it would never work with, and dated people that were notches below me on the chain of intelligent evolution.

I didn’t even bother attempting to go after you, mostly because you weren’t single

I can’t play any games, all my cards are on the table. I can’t play any games because it would be strange to play alone. 

Come play with me? 

Whatever makes you happy.

Whatever makes you happy.

That’s what they told me.

When I hold a printed sheet of paper with my name written across in some fancy ass font, that is what makes me happy.

When I stood at the podium and ran my mouth dry, they called me “sassy”, I got a medal though, so it made me happy. 

They support me.

What makes me happy is the feeling of soft skin against mine. What makes me happy is the thought of love. The thought of living with someone and waking up each morning and kissing that someone’s eyelids and stroking their hair because I just have to have some type of contact with you.

That is what would make me happy. So why does it matter if that someone is a woman. Let me date another man to please you. Let me get pushed around and bullied by someone who believes he is superior cause he has a weapon tucked within his Walmart brand boxers. 

Let me date another man. Let him tell me he thinks I’m beautiful when he won’t open his eyes and look at me. Let him call me different, yet treat me the same as every other soft spoken woman just searching for a dream in the shape of man. Let me pretend that I ever wanted to be rescued by some douchebag on a white horse. 

Who the hell would ride a white horse anyways? I never wanted a prince charming. I wanted Xena, the warrior princess. I wanted rough and rugged. I wanted gritty and dirty. I wanted the true beauty underneath all the struggle and pain. 

I saw what I wanted today. Feet aching, hair frizzed, muddied and gritty. She awkwardly smiled at me and I started to freak out. Even though my father was standing right beside me I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to hold her hand in mine, I wanted to see if the lines of our hands matched. I wanted to know how my heartbeat would sound next to hers. I wanted to know how her day was going.

I wanted him to notice. I could have hid it, I could have turned away, or casually said hello. But I wanted him to see how happy I was to run into her. He was skeptical. He looked at me as if I was an enigma, or a disease. I felt like a child caught with the forbidden cookie in her hand, and then I realized, I was ashamed.

Why should I be? Why should I be sorry that this girl makes my heart pound? I want to run my fingers through her hair and get lost within the tangles. I want to make a ring of laughter to wrap around the fingers of my heart. I want the vibrations of her breathing to hum within my ribcage. And I should not feel bad about it.

They said, whatever makes you happy.

They lied. 

Hey, I know this is sudden, but I think it’s more than a mere coincidence that I’m talking to you right now. It may seem strange, but I’ve had my eye on you for quite awhile, and I always loved it when you smiled. And all these words are so cliche, but all the things I have to say, this is the only way. 

Until the day you look at me, and see that maybe

You and me, should go to dinner, or a movie?

I’m a little forward and I try not to look back, I hope you don’t find that odd. I’m going to stop rhyming now, cause I’m trying to be real. I’m trying to let you know that I’m trying to feel. I want to take a chance, I want to take your hand. I want you in the summer, I want you in the spring. I just want something to last, I’m tired of all these flings.

I’ve been flung back and forth. But the bruises always heal, that’s why i know that none of it was real. If it was real than I would scar, and the scar would never fade. 

I’m gonna give it time, do some waiting and some watching. I’m gonna give you space, but I hope we keep on talking. I won’t be the one to ask you, I want to hear it for once. Ask me to be yours.

If only life were that simple. Alas it is not, so many similes and metaphors. Euphony and sarcasm. This is the most straightforward prose I’ve ever written, and I hate it cause it lacks the beauty but I love it cause it bleeds the truth. I know you’ll read this, I hope you’ll understand. This poem doesn’t flow, maybe its not a poem at all. Funny, I think they would call this stream of consciousness, yet it doesn’t flow, doesn’t flow.

jewelhxc:

“My heart is so empty, my body is hollow. There’s so much in life that I can’t bear, I bite and I chew but I can not swallow. I try as I might to smile and get by, but that’s difficult to do, when all I want to do is cry. So you there with the smile, and the glint of hope in your eyes, do you…

Mister Humnus is a cat

An ancient one at that.

His eyes are wise and grey,

for they’ve beheld a number of days.

Nine lifetimes he’s been granted, now left with four.

With all the joys and terrors he’s witnessed,

he’d never ask for more.

Such an old tom, with his jacket and cap

He spends most of his days enjoying a nap.

His nights he spends indulging in nog

Strolling aimlessly, his mind in a fog.

What does he know, what has he seen?

Can he tell the difference between lives and dreams?

Oh dear Mister Humnus with his nog, and jacket, and cap

waiting for the day he can take his final nap.

Until then he’ll just wander, and search for a reason

to bother waking up in this endless winter season.

Even though the sun shines and the dogs are in heat,

Mister Humnus stays old, tail hung low in defeat.

His eyes, once so lively, are now dull and solemn.

He is tattered and worn, on the streets of Harlem.

His fur once so shiny, now a greyish brown,

his stocking cap on his head, his primeval crown. 

His meals, when he finds them, are nothing but scraps

found between alleys, and dangerous traps.

Mister Humnus just wanders, with hardly a meow

The king of his own world, where only trees bow. 

I was born between the awkward silence and the shouted truth,

by a river that doesn’t flow.

I slept in a cradle made of broken homes,

and was rocked to-and-fro by ever-changing winds.

A king and queen, each with a heavy crown

Raised me up as their gazes were forced down.

I learned to walk on eggshells with my head held high,

a wingless bird, singing herself lullabies.