April 23rd

Ice breathes across the back of your neck,

your hairs perk up in a reaction you'll never forget.

It's like they way that you can never remember what to say,

even though it seemed like your words were at their best.

Something unconscious, like he middle of the night,

breaking glass and you're asking “fight or flight.”

It's the kind of thing that makes our blood run hot and cold,

the kind of thing that affects you,

young and quick,

or wise and old.

April 22nd

You've always been the kind of person
who would break off the arrows shaft
and the tip is still sitting in my heart.

Even though I'll find someone new
who cupid will, once again,
see fit to scar me for,
I will always be able to feel
that piece of you,
whenever my heart beats

April 21st

I've grown tired

of you pulling on

my heart strings.

For years now

I've been unraveling,

mind has started shattering.

But I fall to pieces far too slow.

So while you pluck the strings,

play me a pretty melody

before I go.

April 20th

Some nights,

when the light go on suddenly,

I think that maybe you're still here,

and while I'm still

blinking the shadows from my eyes,

I sometimes think that I see you.

Once my vision's right-side up though,

I never see anything except for the pillow,

where your head no longer lies.

April 19th

I stare at your forehead,

as we pass each other in the halls

because your eyes keep deflecting mine

with sheer ignorance.

Now you think I'd be used to this by now,

spending my days staring at the back of your head during math class.

My night are spent fighting,

because maybe if I'm the loudest one in the bleachers you might finally notice me,

but even as my voice starts to sounds hoarse,

and the echoes of my shouts are still bouncing between us,

you don't look.

I just keep telling myself,

“it's not his fault,

he's always in the spotlight,

and the limelight turns me green,

and who could notice a green girl in high school?”

and maybe he's concussed,

he's always answering wrong in classes,

so confident that he has the right answer,

maybe he just can't think straight.

What if he's not straight?

What if all the locker room nudity and post-game ass-slapping has turned him away from my gender?

That's not so bad I think.

At least then I won't have to worry about the cheerleading skanks

stealing him away from me,

but what about the male cheerleaders?

Oh, wouldn't I like to see that...

Wait, wait, wait.

This is not wait I meant to be talking about,

I'm supposed to be keeping on topic here.

I wanted to talk about,

how everyday,

you look through my face like glass,

like the window you're always staring out in biology class.

I wanted to talk about how, for some reason,

even though I keep throwing myself in your way,

you swerve around me and manage to continue thinking I don't exist.

I want to talk about

how you've never asked me what day it is,

how, even when I'm standing in front of the clock you will ask a complete stranger what time it is.

I want to talk about,

how I seem to be jus a ghost,

haunting you,

but you never get scared,

never even notice me walking right towards you,

even though I've memorized every line of your face,

and have counted al 42 freckles on that flawless forehead your eyes keep leading me back to.

April 18th

I can't help but wonder;

if you're thinking about me

thinking about you.

I've been alone far too long,

I think that it's starting

to affect my mind

and everything just

continues to be my fault

but for a while now,

I've given up

on washing the ashes from my mouth,

and while I sit alone,

intent only on reflection

I can't help but wonder;

haven't you grown tired

of wishing on falling stars?

April 17th

Autopsy Report

An unidentified female,

age 23, 160 pounds.

There is obvious bruising in the shape of boots,

from where you walked all over her,

Antemortem fractures to both hands,

because you were jealous of her talent,

there is tearing to the heart,

from when you broke it,

and a fractured skull,

from when you finally broke her mind.

April 15th

Somewhere, untouched by time,
There waits an adventure, soon to be mine.

Somewhere that smells of paper and must,
somewhere covered in cobwebs and dust,
 on shelves, bowed by knowledge
there's something old to be acknowledged.

In soft armchairs, by sunlit windows,
ill watch the accused walk to the gallows,
an evil cackle,
a jest,
a fight,
I've been roped in
and this book
won't let me sleep tonight.