What I Didn’t Tell You

If you asked me what I wished for,
I probably lied.
Told you I wished for happiness,
didn’t I?
Told you I wished for family,
a friend who’d love and forgive me,
didn’t tell you I have all those things,
did I?
And I’m sure I said that it was nothing big
and that the flow of things doesn’t match what I did
because I love you.
And I know I didn’t tell you that.

I didn’t tell you
that on every shooting star passing me by,
on every penny in the air thrown so far high,
on every night I see the moon, the star beside it
      –so like you–
and ever 11:11 for the past six years
I’ve wished you’d love me too.

This poem’s pretty self-explanitory on it’s own. I guess if you want to know the meaning you could ask, but honestly, you shouldn’t have trouble picking up on the jist of this one. Not much symbolism and rather straitforward.

Anyway, this poem just about killed me. These words were running through my mind all during first period (P.E.) and because we were playing kickball, I couldn’t write it down. I mean, I guess I could (as my seventh grade English teacher put it) bite off the tip of my finger and write it in my blood on the wall, but I have a feeling my teacher wouldn’t like that much, so I refrained. Originally, there was supposed to be another stanza inbetween the two, but I forgot it before I could write it down. I only remembered these two, and though I’d like to remember the other, these two alone seem to get the point across well enough, I think.

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!

Let Me Rescue You

Everything that matters to me
depends on if you are there.
You’re the addiction, the drug,
thats keeps me from disappear.
I sold my soul
for just one more moment with you
and so rightfully,
because you are losing you’re view.

You don’t see what you’ve done for me,
it’s the first time I’ve been free.
But you don’t see that they don’t care,
because they’ve never quite been there.
And they don’t know who you are,
or that you still wish on every falling star,
hoping to pick up the pieces,
I want to help you pick up those pieces.

Everytime I begin to write,
I feel the words form in my mouth.
“Broken” they always say,
but only for me, I’ve found.
My writings of you
are selfish for only just me,
Whether I like it or not,
I’m not who you want me to be.

I’m happy, I am,
I swear it with all my heart.
I’ve learned that to live,
you have to be ripped apart.
Because that love
is what makes you so strong inside.
And that love for you
is strong enough to abide.

But you’re broken, I see,
I know what I didn’t before.
You’re lonely and scared,
knocking down death’s door.
I went through that too,
Let me just help you now.
I know what it’s like
to be crowded alone, somehow.

But I can’t take another
step closer to you.
No matter how many stairs I fall
and what else I want to do.
You keep your distance,
and I suppose that makes most sense,
who are you to be weak from life or from love
or from ingnorance?

But Dear,
you are weak.
We all are.
So may I help?

May I rescue you?
Please, I want to save you.
Let me rescue you.
We both know no one else will.

Originally this was supposed to be a love poem. But when I realized it was about a guy friend of mine, I looked a little closer and found that it’s really more of a poem to an old friend. It’s about stopping to realize that you don’t have the deepest problems in the world, and wishing to use that to help someone you truly care about.

Purity

Purity

Can I?
May I really
call this thing
purity
even if shadows
and broken dreams
that never quite
haunted me
the way they did
everyone else.
Can I call this pure?

Can I?
Dare I say
that after only
sixteen years
I know
what this purity
is, without taintation
without temptation,
without understanding
or reason,
may I say I know what love is?

This is a teen’s representation of both confusion and certainty. When you’re a kid, they say you don’t know what love is. Problem is, that’s false. You know what love is. Did you not love your mother? Your father? Of course, some have special cases with broken families, but no matter how young you were, I am certain you have loved someone once in your life.

For all of those out there that tell kids or teenagers that they don’t know what love is (and the one that told me that? You know who you are), I’d like you to tell me why you know so much about love. Because you’re older? Wrong. We know as much as you do. Sometimes, more. Love is human nature, and therefore, instinct from birth.

I’ll Give You my Heart

I'll Give You my Heart

I’ll give my heart for just this moment,
maybe you’ll see what I can see,
If I give you my heart for only a moment
would you lend your own to me?

Can I show you what every heart has given
even if it means tearing me apart,
baby, please tell me now if you can see it,
baby, can you see my heart?

And if I lend it just this moment,
would you have the will to give it back?
Should I choose to let you see this moment,
will you let my heart still stay intact?

Let me give you my heart for just one minute
because then I’ll believe you’ll see
what exactly it is that makes you wonder
how that love in your eyes pertains to me.

Alright, so it’s not the best poem in the world. I was bored in math class and I had the song “Give Me Your Eyes” by Brandon Heath running through my mind. I kind of let my pen wander while I was taking notes, and I pretty much found this poem scrawled at the edge of my paper.