three poems (that don’t have anything to do with each other)

Thank you.

A girl, pale and sweet

skipping through the sunset,

via static.tumblr.com

cutting dead roses

to put in her hair.

“Why, child,” says her mother.

“Those are dead!”

The girls nods understandingly.

“Yes momma, you killed them.”

_________________________

200 Glowing Stars

Every night, before I sleep

I lay down

on my bed in my room

in my home, our home.

via biggreen.club

It might not be what it was

before the fire took our flame.

but we have a tapestry,

200 glowing stars (exactly),

CDs and vinyls

and signed posters,

new favorite dresses

and a surprisingly healthy orchid.

It smells like cool air and rosemary,

a little bit like horse.

we have a door and walls

and a window with a view

on the top of a hill

with ruins that won’t be rebuilt.

but we have our room

where I lay at night

covered in a blanket

of our 200 glowing stars.

_____________________

Where were you

where were you when I needed you?

where were you when my house had no walls,

when the sun refused to look me in the eyes

and tell me I was worth shining for.

when claws ripped my pride

like a wet paper bag,

scratching

gnawing

beating up on me

over and

via i.vimeocdn.com

over and

over again.

Where were you then?

I remember your face–

as if it was a bad dream–

behind the mirror watching me

your hideously gorgeous face.

go away.

I don’t need you now

to make up

what you unrestorably took.

well-traveled hands

do you remember how it used to be?

when we were still innocent,

so much younger?

do you remember the first time you saw me?

i was wearing my cousin’s old tank top and a pair of shorts.

i remember the first time i saw you.

actually, maybe not the first time,

but i do remember the first time

I really saw you.

that stubborn piece of hair that never stayed in place.

your hands worn and callused,

but like home to the touch.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

your smirk that can still melt me.

i remember that night,

surrounded by friends,

when i knew i wanted you.

but, now it’s too late,

you aren’t the same boy with the messy hair and soft smile.

our hands are like strangers,

i’m not even sure i know how yours feel anymore.

the lines i used to trace,

delicately, so as not to cause any slight ripple in their perfect surfaces.

we’re strangers,

but unlike the strangers we were when we met.

now, the uneasy feeling is from lack of contact,

not the absence of it altogether.

i don’t know the new you,

you don’t know the new me.

maybe one day,

i’ll once again trace the lines in your hands,

feeling their gorgeous warmth on the pads of my fingertips.

maybe you’ll remember the little things i do,

so unaware that i do them,

and you’ll tell me about it,

like it’s a well-known fact.

what i’m really trying to say is,

when can we not be strangers,

when can we be the new girl and the boy with the floppy hair

that knew each other like the backs of their well-traveled hands?

26/1

I wanted to cause damage.

 

I wanted to feel something, anything other than alone.

I wanted to live hope, to have tangible hope.

I wanted to have hope that I wasn’t dead

so I aimed to maim instead.

I wanted it to stop.

To know you’re just like me.

Photo Credit: threadless.com

I wanted the world to stop,

 

I wanted a chance to crack open the hearts that didn’t want me

and scar them. To see the same hurts on them as on mine.

I wanted to crack open every ribcage until I found you:

the heart that beats with mine.

I wanted to break those that are perfect to feel for

just a moment

perfection between my two hands.

But time didn’t stop, I can’t hear your heart.

Everyone goes on smiling, band-aiding each other’s hearts while I try to wash the blood off my hands.

I feel like bleeding out.

The only damage I can cause is to the heart in my hands.

The one that fell out of my own chest.

Homesick

I haven’t really been homesick since my fourth grade field trip. But lately, for some reason I can’t make out, I miss my home more than ever.

I miss my mom, and watching her in the kitchen, perfectly slicing vegetables for whatever masterpiece she’d be about to create for dinner.

I miss my dad and his weird ways, and how much more excited he gets about our dog than about us, but that’s okay because I miss our dog, too.

I miss my friends, being able to walk to their houses after dinner and watching Germany’s Next Top Model with their family, sipping way too sweet hot chocolate.

I miss the trees above our house and the lake nearby. I miss the smell of pretzels wafting from the restaurants as I walk my dog past them, trying my best not to let him snatch any food.

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I really miss being able to spend hours and hours in the barn, riding and taking care of my horses, taking them on long trail rides until the sun sets and it gets chilly.

There are many things, however, that I don’t miss. I don’t miss the people I used to go to school with, their constant judgement and disapproval. I don’t miss the ugly, gray parts of Germany, and god, I don’t miss not having air conditioning in the summer.

I guess being homesick is something natural, and in a sense I like how much it connects you to home. But gosh, I wish it would just stop.

A Desire For Summer

As each day gets closer and closer to June 1, and the months pass, my heart yearns for summer to finally happen.

Today was the first sunny day in California for weeks, and as I lied by the pool with the sun beaming in the sky and minimal clouds in the distance, I imagined myself at the beach in front of my house, with my sunglasses on and the crashing waves against the sandy shores.

Now, as I accept the fact that I will keep having to imagine my summer days until they actually happen, I will live these daydreams through the stories I write and the dreams that come to me in my sleep.

I can’t write about every single thing I’m excited for about summer 2018, but here are a few:

The concerts. I’m always excited about concerts, but I feel like the shows I go to this year will be exceptionally memorable. I will see G-Eazy for a second time. The show will be in an outside amphitheater, and I will be at the barricade with the hundreds of people who showed up. The stars will be bright, but the streams of neon light beaming from the stage will be even brighter. Then there will be the Warped Tour dates. The days I wake up early and return home late, my body covered head to toe in sweat and dust, my voice will ache along with my legs. Yet as I fall asleep, replaying the memory of All Time Low singing on main stage with the sunset across the horizon peeking over the back of the stage, my mind will fill with memories and my heart full of happiness.

Photo Credit: Pinterest

The beach. Considering I have family both in Santa Barbara and Laguna Beach, I don’t actually spend time on the beach nearly enough. However, this time I hope that changes. I can’t wait to walk down the steps from my house to the beach, lie down my beach blanket and read my favorite book in the sun all day every day. Maybe I’ll go into the water if the waves aren’t harsh, or maybe I’ll get an acai bowl. At the end of the day, I’d head back up to my house with sun kissed skin and beach blonde waves. I’ll wash the sea salt water off my sandy skin, and I’ll curl up under the covers with popcorn, a scary movie, and my dog beside the bed, and I’ll know in that moment that life couldn’t get any better than that.

Lastly, I can’t wait for the freedom. I can’t wait to not have to follow a strict schedule from school, or have my adventures be limited to a mountain in the middle of Ojai. I’ll be free to wake up however early or however late I want. I can watch the sunrise from my balcony, and the sunset from a hammock. I can go take the trolley down to Banzai Bowls and get my favorite acai bowl. I can go to Disneyland or go to the gym. I can take trains up to LA to visit my friends, or travel to different beaches to watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July. The possibilities are overwhelmingly endless.

June is a long time away. I should be focusing on APs and English essays, but summer please come sooner. I’m waiting for you.

if we’re lucky.

Looking back, I think I could have fallen in love with you.

And I think that if I let myself I probably still would.

Image from Pinterest.com

But now things are different and you’ve met someone who you seem to love even though you don’t talk about her much.

I wonder if you ever think of me that way anymore. I know you used to.

For a while I thought every word that came out of your mouth was arrogant. The few words we exchanged in passing made me sad, and I wondered why you were so polite to everyone but me. I thought that I would never know you the way I used to and I missed that. But now I realize you probably just said those things because you missed me too.

I forgot about how effortlessly eloquent you are. I forgot how good you are at communicating and how incredibly intelligent you are. I could listen to you for hours and never be bored.

I forgot how curly your hair gets when you let it grow longer and about the way you gesture with your hands when you get excited.

You reminded me that I don’t care when you laugh at me because I’m just glad that I get to hear your laugh again. You reminded me about how you actually listen to what I have to say, and you actually care.

You told me you wanted to hear me sing again. You said you’re learning guitar now and talked about how we used to play music together. I never told you badly I miss that.

I could see myself loving you someday. I could see myself loving you for a long time.

I’m sorry for the things I said about you. I think it was because I was sad that so much had changed so fast and that inevitably you had changed too. But when it’s just us and when you don’t have to worry if anyone is listening you somehow convince me that you haven’t changed much after all.

I sometimes try to imagine what it might be like now if you never left, but it’s probably better this way.

Maybe we were always meant to love each other but we just missed our opportunity. Maybe someday we’ll still be able to, if we’re lucky.

25 more things to be happy about

A few weeks ago I compiled a list of 25 things that make me happy. I’m not in the happiest of moods currently, so I’m creating a sequel in an effort to cheer myself up.

  1. Music – the only thing that I know absolutely makes the world a better place.
  2. The sore dents I get on my fingertips after playing guitar for too long.
  3. Singing harmonies.
  4. Hugs – good, wholesome, all-encompassing hugs.
  5. Seeing my friends succeed.
  6. Having good hair days.
  7. Being proud of something.
  8. Going a week without biting my nails.
  9. Eating passion fruit.
  10. Being able to sleep in, for once.
  11. Having my driver’s permit (and the bragging rights that come with it).
  12. The times when I feel pretty.
  13. How silence isn’t uncomfortable with my closest friends.
  14. Tea tree oil.
  15. Getting buried in sand at the beach with only my head sticking out, and the sand that covers my body being carved into a mermaid.

    Image via elephantjournal.com
  16. Laughing until tears come out of my eyes.
  17. Finding the perfect tree for climbing.
  18. Climbing said tree.
  19. Being barefoot.
  20. The satisfaction of overlooking a valley after hiking all the way up it.
  21. How my nose gets red when it’s really cold out, and I can see my breath in the air.
  22. Being so hot that I can feel the sweat evaporating off of my skin.
  23. The comfort of a cool breeze in the summertime (the best feeling in the world).
  24. Grass coming back after the fire.
  25. Peeling a tangerine in a perfect spiral.

when i see you again

it’ll be a tuesday.

the sun will be shining, but rain clouds will be looming in the distance.

i’ll see you in line for ice cream on the boardwalk and race towards you.

you’ll turn around when i call your name and your lovely brown eyes will instantly lock with mine.

you were always so good with eye contact.

obviously my heart will skip a beat, but i’ll never let you know.

we’ll talk for hours about school, family, boys, and girls,

just like old friends.

because that’s all we were,

all we are.

maybe we’ll dip our feet into the vast, open ocean,

and it’ll send chills down our spines.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

but, maybe, it’ll start to rain,

so we’ll rush back to your car and wait for my sister to come get me.

you’ll laugh at me for still not having my license,

even though “i’m almost there!”

but, i won’t be nervous when my sister doesn’t respond to my text,

because i’ve never felt anything but safe around you.

so, we’ll talk some more and more until i check the time and realize we’ve been sitting here for hours.

finally, you decide to go outside because you just hate sitting around.

at first, i’ll let you stand out there by yourself, the rain beating down on your hair and catching in your eyelashes.

but, my speedy little heart will tell my reluctant brain to just go.

so, i’ll jump out of your car and spin around the parking lot and let the rain soak through my clothes.

then, you’ll take my hand and we’ll spin together just like out of the final scene in a rom-com.

but, my sister will eventually come.

you’ll wrap me in a towel and i’ll go home.

i’ll wash the ice cream stain off my sweater and tell my sister i had an alright time.

maybe i’ll tell my friends about you,

but i’ll probably keep our moment to ourselves.

i guess i’m just selfish like that.

tomorrow

oh god, i miss you.

i miss how much fun we had together the last time i saw you.

the stolen glances and the silent giggles.

i sat in bed tossing and turning because the thought of you was too much to handle.

it was too much to feel right before sleep.

how unfair of you to make me feel the way i do,

even after all this time.

Photo Credit: pinterest.com

you’ll probably never see this,

but maybe some day in the future,

you’ll think of me too and you’ll search for my name and find this.

maybe when you think about us,

you’ll call me and we’ll talk for hours like we used to.

you’ll doodle our initials into a heart in the margins of your notebook

the same time i do in mine.

you’ll sketch my eyes while i daydream of yours.

and, when we see each other again, i’ll tell you how i missed you in the way i hug you.

i’ll see it in the way your gorgeous brown eyes twinkle.

maybe i can’t sleep because i’m in your dreams or on your mind too.

if so, i hope we’re both tired, but still dreaming, in the morning.

Imagine

Imagine if you could do anything you wanna do, be anyone you wanna be, go anywhere you wanna go.

Where would you go? What would you do?

You always hear parents saying to their children,”you can do anything you want, you just have to believe in it.” My parents never told me that. I’m glad they didn’t. I wouldn’t have wanted them to lie to me.

credit: dressage-news.com

I can’t do anything I want to, that’s simply not plausible. I’m not brave enough to become an astronaut, that’s for sure. I don’t have the time and endurance to practice enough to become a Grand Prix Dressage rider. I definitely don’t have the voice to become a singer, and I’ll never fit the standards to become a model.

But if I could, if I had all these possibilities, what would I do?

I would do everything I know I can’t do. I’d hike up Mount Everest, because why not? I’d ski the Olympic Super-G, race to the podium just for the heck of it. I’d start a band and travel around the world to perform our music to millions of obsessive fans. I’d create the most beautiful paintings of life and beauty and ugly love, so stunning that they’d immediately be displayed in the Louvre. Honestly, I’d probably successfully bake a cake for once, because I don’t see that happening any time soon with my striking lack of talent.

credit: cpr.org

There are so many things in this world, big and small, that I would love to do or achieve or become in my life, and I know most of those things will never possibly happen. Though I’d obviously love to become a world famous artist, that’s not what I need. Of course we need equal rights for everyone, the same opportunities. But it is good that not all of us have the same talents, the same passions, sometimes it is good that we can’t be anything we want. After all, that makes up our individuality.