Missing You

I’m kind of sitting here wondering
where I’ll be tomorrow.
Loving you, or him?

I’m kind of sitting here remeniscing,
with the you’s that I’ve been missing,
the both of you.

I’m kind of sitting here hoping
that you’re thinking of me too,
that he doesn’t know about you,
because that would destroy me.

I’m kind of wondering,
where are you now?

And when I kind of wonder a little about you
I have to kind of wonder about him too
because he holds such resemblance to you,
a flame of candle
holding up a flame to you.
But I hope that you miss me too.

And I’m kind of hoping he’s missing me,
and remembering those little things
that you and I never did together.

Because you and I can share everything,
but really we are nothing,
because we both kind of love each other
without surpassing “that thought.”

Love? I’m kind of wishing I wasn’t confused,
kind of thinking about only you,
but I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t missing him too.

Three Chances

One for we as children,
call us innocent,
when life was long and prosperous
and smiles came and went.

One for a few years later,
call us teenagers,
when life was black or bleak or gray
and frowns stayed as they were.

And one for three years after,
call me hopeful still,
when three months pass, after trail’s last
because change for you, I will.

Sometimes, a second chance isn’t enough. Having the strength to give someone another chance, while not always wise in certain situations, is the kindest thing to do. However, having the strength to give yourself another chance is even harder. After so long, failure is heartbreaking. But giving up is so much worse. That’s basically what this poem’s about but, as always, interpret it however you like.

My Audience

I expected you to be my audience
my sea of clapping hands
and the chirping crickets in the silence.

My wings to my arms
the gills to my breath
my everything, my anything,
my voice.

I expected you to be my saving grace
the one thing about myself
that I could never ever change.

My hope in such a darkness,
the candle to my flame,
my smile, my laugh, my present, my past,
my future.

I expected you to steal my heart,
didn’t guess that you would then rip it apart
had no clue that trying to mend your mistake
would change me in a better, innocent way.
I expected you to be my audience,
my loud clapping and eerie silences.
Didn’t know you had the power to change my mind,
or that this love for you would forever change my life.

Woke up at about midnight with this poem running through my mind. Usually, I can remember these poems, but I liked this one so much, I had to write it down the moment the words crossed my mind, so here I am. Hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Write off the Ending

Someday,

I know that you’ll let me
finish our story
in the pages of another book
dedicated to you.

No babe. I won’t be letting go
that, by now you should know,
I always hold on until the very close end.

And Someday,

You’ll let me on my own,
pretend it was my fault
and read our story in the pages
of the dusty books on your shelves.

Because Someday,

You’ll be caught thinking of me,
far after our ending,
far after what’s done is
forever done.

Oh yes, Dear,

I’ve been thinking of you,
and I know what you could do
to tear me apart on the floor.
I think you know too.

But Darling,

I’m not writing our ending,
I’m not yet finished mending,
And I’m waiting for that chance to say
that I’ll never say goodbye.

Darling,

I’ll be finishing someday,
and I know that in some ways,
you don’t want our end
to tear you apart.
Yes, Dear, I know,
I’m still in your heart.

Just buried.

So No Dear,

You can’t finish that quickly,
let me finish our story,
before I write out the ending.

May I not just write it off entirely?

This poem is about letting go, or rather, the refusal to do so. I was brushing my teeth before school and listening to my iPod on full blast when “Beautiful Ending” by Barlowgirl came on (you might notice, I am for the most part inspired whenever I’m listening to music). I kind of starting thinking about things, and this is what appeared, so here I am, standing with my laptop on the dresser, frantically typing to get this out, and the bus will be here in seconds!

So, adieu for now, and hope you enjoyed!

We Were Both Kids

We were both kids
when I said that I loved him.
You told me “no, no,
you can’t possibly love him.”
“Mattie you’re a kid,” you said.
“Mattie you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

We were both kids
when I caught you with roses,
pulling out thorns
for the threat that they posed me.
You said they were a scar
but that I shouldn’t fear them anymore.

We were both kids
when you promised you’d be there,
promised, no matter what, that you’d always
be there, oh you swear!
And that no matter what,
I was your little Girlie.

We were both kids
when you told me to smile,
told me life would be great
if I did for a while.
Told me not to bottle it up,
told me that me in myself was enough.

We were both kids
when I told you I loved you.
You didn’t care
in the way that you used to,
you let us fall away.
You let our past together fade into gray.

I was so young
when you shattered my heart and,
you were so strong
letting friendship like sand
slip through your fingers.
I slipped through your fingers.

But I’m still young enough
still weak enough,
still strong enough through the storm to say…

We were both kids
when I told you I loved you,
I’m still a kid,
and I’m still in love with you.
You don’t even care,
and you didn’t keep your promise to always be there.
But I’m still a child, so I’ll forgive.

And I’m still a child, so I’ll never forget.
You, that is, my love.

I guess this one’s a little self-explanitory. Pretty cut-and-dry when it comes to symbolism. Of course, I could be wrong, so post any questions you may have and I’ll attempt to answer them. Either way, I hope you enjoyed, and I guess this is me signing off.