luna blue

in one hand i carry a life full of things i've only ever wanted for the people i call mom and dad.
and in the other i clutch my dreams.
and i'm standing over a casket that looks a lot like fear.
and i can't decide if clutching and carrying are the same thing.
the wind blows my hands back, reality and illusion fall threw the wholes in my soul.
my dreams fall left and i fall right.
i guess blood looks better on my hands then sparks do.

my dad looks proud and tightens up his tie, 
he has a smile big enough to push me off the cliff i'm standing on.
and it does.
but falling isn't so bad when hitting the ground is all i've ever wanted.
falling really isn't that bad.

i know because he fell really hard, but i think he's happy now.
and i think that she might of tripped, but she said the ground felt like a pillow.
a pillow that was a little like fear, but tears look best on fear.

tears look best on faces and hands and shoulders.
and the ground looks best on me.

so falling really isn't that bad.

she was pink.
and red.
some sort of orange.
yellow.
brown.
white.
purple.
blue.
red.
yellow.
orange.
white.
pink, pink, pink, pink.

he was black.

she was kind of a rainbow.
he was rain.

and they were never quite sure who came first.

It's tangible, it's not some feeling, it rocks your brain and crushes your bones, 

Here's to the girls who don't call themselves a clique, wipe that $30 Mac lipstick off your fake smile.

To the hipsters I guarantee no one's going to care that you wore black every day and died your hair purple.
Here's to the girl in my A2 class.
Here's to the lunch room eaters, and the sweatshirt wearers.
Here's to the 4.0 kids and I'm sorry I didn't come kids.
Here's to the jocks and the stance socks.
Here's to the 2 AM bedtimes and the 4 PM cry times.
Here's to the kids alone in the hallways.
Here's to the football, basketball, soccer and baseball players who sit by the knight.
Here's to my seminary teacher... I'm sorry
Here's to the boys who hold their heads high in the hallways, look around you're, not as cool as you think.
Here's to the friday night football games and baby powder.
here's to my A4 class
And Mr. Nelson...thank you
He's too my best friends, and my fake friends.
Here's to the classrooms and the commons
the dances and black lights.
Here's to knighting and trucks.
Here's to my unmade bed.
here's to the dirty looks and the I promise I didn't steal your boyfriend.

Heres to Hunter
And Terick.

Here's to writing and rewriting and seeing.
Here's to the kids in the front row of our class, keep your heads down because I bet if you looked up something would change you.

Here's to the half of you who hate me now, a third of you who despise me, and a few who want me to write stories on the back of your eyelids.

Here's to you, I love you.

And here's, here's to me, because if I didn't say it who else would?

Here's to this, here's to high school.

our love was like the stars..

a little to cliché.

it was like capital letters at the beginning of a college essay.

Very Perdictable.

it was made up of cute stares and i wish you were here's.

our love wasn't strong and it wasnt meant to last until the end of time.

but it was the sun.

it didn't reached every heart of the earth.

our love isn't the way you look at her.

and it isn't the way she looks at him with her lips on yours.

our love was held in our hands and when you let go, i was left palm up, with a couple notes and some old pieces of your heart.

and she had the sun in her hair and the stars in her eyes.

A kiss is a wonderfully beautiful thing. 

When the only music I listen to is the 1975.
I walk the halls dragging my personality with a rope hoping no one smiles at me.
The humming of peoples voices is too much for my ears.
Times when the broken clock is a comfort.



Tears rim my eyes as I stare at the piles of homework that will never get done.
When the teacher reminds me of the test I kindly let escape my thoughts.
Almost rear end 13 people driving home from a cold uneventful weekend night.

My friends clap in front of my face, helping me escape from the prison of my mind.
I trip on the stupidly placed stairs in the commons.

The days when the word vomit doesn't come, and a brain freeze is not just a figure of speech.
My mom yells at me to do something I will never remember.
Days when "I will be logged out do to inactivity."
When i'm to tried to even push snooze.

Days when I say throw another because the loads already too much and one more won't hurt.

When reading with the rain isn't enough.
No matter how many times I try and say it, it gets caught in my throat and becomes mixed with all the other unneeded words.

The park is lonely but inviting.