My heart can’t help but ache. Sometimes, I believe it’s a mind over heart concept. In my mind I know that if she isn’t the person I’m supposed to end up with, someone better will come along but my heart is telling me that I don’t want that to happen, it’s settled on her. My mind knows that I want to end up with a girl who is going to love me to pieces, every big, small, sharp, hard, and sweet piece. I’ve done all I could do, I chiseled a hole into my chest and offered him my heart, I told her exactly what I want and the way I saw the next year playing out and the hard work I was willing to do in order for us to be together. I’ve nudged her hoping she’d respond. I still haven’t doubted what I feel and what I believe to be between us. It’s so hard to explain to anyone else but I think our hearts have a language of their own that isn’t easily translated into words we are able to understand and that is where poetry attempts in a small way to express. Despite her silence (and I know she’s extremely busy with her friends and activities) my heart stutters and still clings to what I know and how she makes me feel and what she’s said to me. My heart has tried to tell me she’s nothing but excuses and red flags. I’m clenching onto the hope she gave me to be what I know in my heart. My heart is made up. My mind is made up. I offered her everything. I think there is an explanation to the fact that she hasn’t responded, I’ve never felt so sure about someone. Maybe I am fooling myself and maybe she has a hammer behind her back waiting to smash my heart into bruises and blood but I’ve risked it all. I stripped myself down completely vulnerable and told her I was ready to fall in love and to hold her in my arms. Now all I can do is wait. And I’m waiting and I’m suffocating. I know what I want. HER. Now I just need to find out if I’m what she wants. In my heart I feel like she’s echo what I wrote her, but as more time passes, I fear the worst and I’m not worth the wait and fight. Someday, I know I will be, but this is today, this is now. She’s what I want but I can’t want it fully without her.


So I wait. …………….

And I wait

No Shame in Being Sad

You used to cry so sweetly that your tears

were more sugar than salt. But despite the fact

that I wanted to collect each one like an eyelash on my fingertips,

I knew all that water was just hiding poison underneath.

That you were ashamed of your dark purple moods,

the way you never used razors or scissors

for shaving or cutting hair, but something else entirely.

Knew you blamed yourself for the weekly appointments with a therapist,

beat yourself up over each one like a self-sacrificing piñata.

But if I could tell you anything now, it would be this:

if your body is a map, there are places inside it you have never seen.

There’s an ocean of strength hiding somewhere inside your ribcage

waiting to be discovered and named

as the next great world wonder.

There’s never any shame in feeling bad, in needing help,

in playing tug of war with yourself on your worst days

in an attempt to find a balance between sad and normal.

When I was younger, I used to play telephone

with twine and a paper cup,

and I know you are angry at yourself for listening so hard

to hear some good news on the other end,

and sometimes you might feel like an empty dial tone,

but that doesn’t mean the static will never clear.

The smile that makes your day

Photo Credits : http://www.flickr.com/photos/faiqnitro/6894954844/