Just Spilled Off Words

We are such great actors now
that I'm sure we've forgotten how
to be honest and true and smile
for real.
I'm going to stand up and scream very soon
that I want out and I want free.
I just want to be me without the war.
The fighting took my life of half
and cause it to be a casualty no one noticed.
We can ask why forever but
the answers may never come.
I'm trying to stand but I've been stumbling.
His tears fall, mine are stuck behind the glass
that is my eyes.
I'm a soldier in a losing battle, but
I can win maybe if they stop fighting.
Intensity rising, I learn my lines
acting each day like the world is turning,
when in fact the world is stopped.
I am who I am, what I am, where I am
in the middle of the desert with
the dust in my eyes but still standing.
I'll tell you, I'll tell you screaming
that it's never going to stop.
Because the worlds still turning
and we're still standing here burning.
And it starts anew each day when we open our eyes.
We have to face head on,
standing tall,
holding strong,
forever and forever.

Apologies and Regret

We were so young and so alive
until last night.
Your eyes shed tears, more than I ever
want to see from you.
I bet you didn't know
they cut deep into me, and made rivers.
They're still running through me,
whispering, "You're the guilty one.
Yeah, this is all your fault."
I look in the mirror and
my shadowed eyes believe it.
My guilt is overpowered
by my need to make you better.
I should be taking care
of my wounds, still open and bleeding.
But you, you matter first and most.
And if you're not happy,
I have to be there for you.
The dark keeps whispering to me,
and I keep wondering...
What have I done?
I am dirt and should be hated.
But you'd tell me no.
My act of selfishness reached a peak
that I never thought I was actually
truly capable of.
And if my eyes couldn't make the tears last night
well then,
they surely can now.
Because I hurt you...
And you were the only one
that tried
to save me.

Burning

My life has been an adventurous misadventure
filled with every possible mishap and triumph.
Regret is a word I think of sometimes,
but don't used often.
Wishes are probable, but not likely to me.
I wish a lot though.
The days come and go like silence comes and stays.
And even when the words don't make sense
they still have a that ring in your ears.
They stay with you.
The people set you down and tell you
all the faults and failures.
But you shouldn't listen.
I don't.
I sit myself down and listen to myself.
Who's the harder judge?
God looks down sometimes on me I think, and cringes.
But maybe He smiles to.
But I wonder though, God, do you wish I was different?
Do you look down on me, asking ," Where are you going?"
I ask my feet the same question.
They carry more haste than my heart.
I guess my hearts learning to keep up though.
And while all the swirling city lights outside
never kept me awake,
the little light in the back of my head
keeps blinking
making for more sleepless nights
and burning questions.

Wishing For You

Sometimes I think if you were here
your arms would stop me
from making mistakes
cause I'd be in them, safe and held.
I wish and lot and wonder a lot.
I imagine the days we'll have soon but
I wish they were sooner.
I know you forgive my mistakes
all the time.
But I don't want to make more.
My mind is like a movie that plays
over and over
and
is still being edited.
Sometimes I get new pictures
but rarely are they better ones.
Except you.
You make a better, brighter picture.
One I love to see, and the day I see it for real
I will imprint it into memory.
Set in stone to relive
over and over
for the days I wish I was in your arms,
safe and held.

My Ordinary Human-Poet Words

I'm starting now to wonder
when my words will get cut off.
When will they fall down,
in endless tumbling,
making no sense, or less
than they already don't.
When will my fingers not be brimming
with inspiration...?
Or really, just boredom.
Your words carry the weight
of something significant.
Mine are small, like myself.
With strength and dignity,
but still lacking
the worldly qualities that yours bear.
If they were people, my words
would stand in ordinary people clothes
with tattered jeans and a t-shirt;
Just standing there, fumbling with
his hands.
Not really knowing what to say,
but saying things at the right moments,
or maybe
not at all.
And yours?
Yours would stand there, dignified,
dressed in fashions fit for professionals;
A lovely looking man, I would say.
Speaking with eloquence,
lighting the room up
as mine looked on
in a silent wonder.
Not jealousy, no. Just wonder at
the way his words fall
so gently down.
And it would make me wonder.
Yes, like I so often do.
Am I writing for the world to see?
Am I a preacher, or poet teaching leader?
Or am I just writing
for the sake of it
for
myself?

The Park Bridge

I'm like that bridge at the park in the mountains.
All rickety and cracking from wear,
but rooted in its past.
People cross me
I support them.
But one day I'll break down and fall,
sinking in the waters below.
I'm hoping that day won't be for a while.
I saw a sign there that said
they're raising money
to repair the bridge
and make it stronger.
And I'm wondering,
maybe, just maybe
if I can be repaired too?

Guilt

We are all guilty
of being the judges....
But we need to stop
because the judges will fall.
We see only what we want
and when we want
and how we want.
The people fake it.
And we let them.
We assume until
we make asses of ourselves.
And then the guilt comes up
overwhelming,
as we realize
they're human too.

What I Wanted to Say to George

Dear Mr. President,
these are not toy soldiers.
They aren't plastic and able
to be thrown around.
Their guns and their bullets
are all so very real.
You can't leave them outside
scattered in the dust,
left to be rained on
like bullets.
You can't keep them in containers
without seeing the sun.
They will die there,
Mr. President.
They're not just indestructable
plastic enamel and painted little toys.
They are people with families.
With wives and with children.
And we just want them to come home,
please.
Oh please, Mr. President, these are not toy soldiers.
We cannot just play with them
until we get bored.

Temporary Words

Sometimes the most worthwhile words
are stuck inside our head.
We can't even begin to describe all
the miracles, the tragedies, horrid or beautiful.
The thoughts, the speculations and theories.
The child behind our eyes.
My hands are pressed up to the glass
like a five year old watching
his father leave for good.
Its not leaving for good but
I wish it so.
All the stars fall and all my wishes fly
but never come true.
Someday, yeah maybe someday.
One wish came true once.
And I am thankful. So very much,
as I sit here staring at my words.
I look at my hands and wonder,
"When did my words get so dull?"
And then I remember,
these are not mine.
They are a temporary placement
for the more horrific words,
and the more beautiful miracles
that cannot
possibly
be spoken.

Unexplainable Love

I'm worth more than all
those ancient scars,
faded, nearly gone.
I know I don't
give enough credit to
my own strength.
But I surrender to
the wrong gods.
The wrong idols...
I surrender and am taken
captive.
I should be captivated
by Your love.
For the life of me
I can't explain how they all love me
so so much.

My Closet- Monster

It's sadly amusing to me
the way this comes and goes and now
is staying.
I know it shouldn't, like a monster
in the closet,
I should be afraid as if I'm five.
I am five inside.
But well, you know, five year olds
don't deal with this.
Do they?
...I hope not. But probably.
Problems and strife are getting
younger and younger
every passing day.
And I look around and wonder
what I am missing.
My head, constantly filled with this
closet-monster,
obsessing and thinking,
and planning over it.
I don't want it to go away.
Is that bad? Yes.
And I know it.
I know this monster by a name
I don't want to call it
because I can't admit.
And while its their, frightening me
in my closet,
I can't help but wonder....Did I put it there?
Yeah, yeah I did.
And now Im just so used to it.
So okay with it
and so numb to it that
I don't want it to go away.
He tells me thats not okay
and I know it but....
What can you do
when your worst enemies
become friends?

PS- You're Beautiful

There is an incredible difference between love and lust, and as I sat staring at my computer screen I realized that even greater than I had before. The glow of the colorful monitor illuminated the shadows on my face that had been set there by the long days and nights of worry, and question, and wonder.

I'm sorry. I typed him, my blood running cold, and my chest tight. I am so very sorry. I sat there with a worried look on my face. Would he be angry? Disappointed? The latter being the worst, and I feared it. Had he been standing next to me, I could not have looked him in the eye or my own would have spilled over with tears.

Kayla... He typed. I waited nervously for his answer.

I love you. I'm not mad. I'm not upset. I'm not disappointed. I love you, and I always will forever and ever. You are beautiful. I will never stop loving you.

My heart beat nearly stopped and I stared, my eyes brimming with tears. I couldn't imagine how he could forgive me for hiding such a thing from him. I felt guilty, terrible, upset. But he somehow saw through it. He still loved me. He wanted to love me. Not because he had to. But because in his heart that is what he felt.

Thank you. So so much. My mind was at loss for anything else to say.

You're welcome. He answered. I let a small smile come to my lips. My near panic state was decreasing slowly and I could feel my heartbeat coming back to life little by little. He loved me. And he always would. We talked until the clock said it was a new day, and then I went to sleep with his love ringing in my ears and heart.

The next day I got up greeting the morning with a welcome for once. Today was okay. Today I wasn't hiding anything from him. I rushed through the day in a frenzied excitement to get home and talk to him like always. I turned on my computer and settled in, still missing him and wanting him to be right beside me, but happy none the less. We talked for a little bit, until he had to go.

Sorry love I must get ready to leave now. *hugs* I love you. I smiled at his words.

Mkay. I'll be here when you get back. I love you too. I assumed he'd log off after this, so I didnt touch anything. But right as I was about to close it another message popped up.

PS- You're beautiful. Bye.

I felt a grin spread across my face. The past days may have been hard, but he was still there. He was being strong for me and he wanted to help. But most of all he just wanted me to understand that I was beautiful and loved. And at that moment I understood that incredible difference between love and lust. Lust was most of the teenage couples around me, only loving for the physical emotions. But love, love was how he felt for me unconditionally. Love was the bond between us that we'd formed long before we gained the status of a couple. Love was him, and the way he cared so much. I understand now, and I will remember for a long time. Love is him. And he loves me.