Idiot.

We fell in love like idiots,

And didn’t stop.

They told us we should,

And we just shook our heads.

We listened to music,

Sang sad tunes and

Cried the longest rivers.

But we never stopped.

They called us idiots,

And we were—

We wrote poems,

Made faces, and snuck around

Till we didn’t want to,

And we did it for us,

Until ‘us’ was a question,

With no answer.

Magic Show

Houdini disappeared time after time,
and each time people stared in awe. 
He'd reappear and take the show,
all he did was call it magic. 


I run away from a fear,
and people stare with anger--
degradation for a disappearance,
its not magic when its me.


Sinatra sang a tune so blue,
the people clapped and paid him due,
He joined the band and started a show,
all he did was give his heart.


I cry and sing my pain,
and people ignore me completely--
degradation for emotion,
its just repetitive when its me.

Intimacy and Deprivation

We grow closer as the years go,

Intimacy and deprivation become

Fearful parts of every child’s existence

Wondering if you’re the one for them.

Days, months, years go by,

And you’re no longer the one for them,

You aren’t the one they want to cry to,

To share the secrets you used to share.

Stories shared are crumbled pieces of paper,

Whose existence isn’t noticed anymore,

Whose meanings lost all meaning,

Whose life lost all of its essence.

So head down you trudge on,

Regretting nothing but mistakes,

And ideas that you thought were good,

But were told were wrong.

No room to judge for yourself,

Because you still think she is perfect,

You still think she is your world,

And everything in it.

Your dreams are of her hair,

Softly blowing in the wind,

across your cheek, her face

nestled into your very own chest.

Happiness isn’t anything but her,

But her happiness falls in cracks,

That she doesn’t know exist,

And all you want,

—is her happiness.