Oh me,
You'll learn to say
what you think
not just write it
soon enough.

For if good things can come
to a girl who shouts into the void
not expecting answers or change,
how much better will your life be
when you voice your thoughts?

i am drunk and angry please disregard

This is a poem by a girl
Who is fucking angry and tipsy
So please disregard.

But I don't believe you,
Ami,
When you talk of being my friend.

I've told you how I work.
I have told you
How to show you care
But you don't.

You reply,
When I text.
I ask you to events,
And you reject them
With no offer of later time,
So I'm slowly ceasing to ask as I told you I would.

Why won't you give me your time?
As a friend, dammit,
Not some half-flirty I-don't-know.

I love Narcissa,
Ace,
Perfect Cinnamon Roll
Because they offer me their time
And accept the time
I offer them.
I've even got the Great Whale King
Into giving me time
When I'm happy
Not just when in crisis.

Stop being a stormy-weather friend.
Please.
I hate it.
I hate that I care so much
Yet you knock me down
Again and again,
And that I am too much a coward
To say this to your face.

And I also don't want
To put in the effort
To gain the courage,
Because a little voice tells me
That despite my best efforts
I will lose you within a few years of graduation
So why even bother?

This wasn't how my last semester was supposed to start.

I did get some good times -
one night with new friends drinking
and the next
with old friends I hardly fit now
watching a fantastic movie -
and I have amazing classes.

But should I be so done so soon?
Ready to throw out everything
and just curl up in a ball alone?
I should've enjoyed things
for at least a little longer,
right?

Rest,
Mon petit,
(That's French for my little one)
You are safe here.
I have arms and allies enough
To fight your battles if you so wish,
And I lack hesitations
When I go to war for those that are mine.
"If love is what you need,
A soldier I will be,"
A sister with a shotgun
And fire in her eyes.

Victorious,
I playing either a dragon
or a serpent,
pressing buttons in a whirl
and in a rage,
laughing
with success and joy-
and I will return,
again and again
to this arena
in order to do battle.

Fire burns-
I always forget.
Like how air cannot help
to wander
and water drowns-
how earth cracks.

Oh Fire, (published retroactively due to sitting on it so as to not be writing mad and then everything changed when the Fire asked me out so....)

First,
I am a coward-

Well not so much a coward
as one shy,
with the occasional bout
of crippling social anxiety,
with the fear of losing more dear friends,
and a talent for written words
not spoken ones
which really fucks me over
when a beautiful soul
breaks down in my kitchen
but I digress.

Second,
I'm sorry.
I feel like I messed up.
I feel like this is a mistake
but I actually did this once before
(And it sort of worked?
but this blog has been in the past
therapy for me that's free
and I can't cut myself off from this
even to save my pride)
so here goes me being unsubtle.

You're reading this.
I know you are because you talk of spoilers.
Maybe there's been a niggling feeling
you already have a poem
and you've been in denial.
Of course,
you don't do subtle
which is why you're now in my phone
as Enjolras
(Also because I'm a dark-haired drinker but anyway)

I was okay.
I was finally okay.
Then I get a Christmas card
that alongside beautiful encouragment
from a dear friend is:
"I'm terribly fond of you"
What the actual fuck, dude?
You don't send that to friends!
I'm not "fond" of Klicker or Gibbs
I'm fond of you but that's a whole other shot of burbon

A whole semester of
"Out of sight; out of mind,"
down the fucking drain.

augh,
That's why I need your friendship.
I could never say that to you directly-
cursing around you feels wrong,
And I need to clean up my act-
And you inspire me to be better-
the best me that there is-
with just your friendship,
so really that's all I need.

My people need me now.
A lot.
So I don't have time
for your half-flirting.
I wanted another week,
but drama queens intervened,
took me to the end of my rope
before I could say,
"Hey,
What exactly did you mean by,
'I missed dancing with you...
I missed you in general'?"

I'll be okay eventually I know.
You ought to pride yourself.
You've been a fire
I did not consciously start
and could not put out
since you offered me your handkerchief
on a sunny Sunday evening
when you saw me crying.
I have always prided myself
for creating my affections
as needed,
yet you are a rare and stubborn exception.

I've probably lost you now with this.
which sucks.

I don't know if I'll be able
to talk to you about
anything
remotely close to my soul for a while.
A dear friend
unintentionally toyed with my emotions
for the better part of a month-
I don't know how quickly I'll spring back
even if I can paint my face
to seem as if I have.
I won't be able to talk,
because this will linger for a while,
begging to be discussed,
but then the yawning chasm
of self-loathing will open up
and I'll want to cry
so my energies for speaking rationally and calmly
will be quickly diverted to the
Do Not Cry You Pathetic Wastrel Division
and the quality of conversation will decrease.

You weren't so dear a friend
the last time I misread you,
and you didn't tell me anything
I hadn't already figured out
and gotten over
that Saturday night on my porch.
(Actually the "you're a dear friend"
was a surprise,
again because I value time
and you hadn't offered me any
in two weeks.)

I'm sorry I can't say this
to your face.
Please don't bring this up.
I cannot bear to be weak
in the presence of all but a few,
a phone call is different
you can't see the tears
so all you're likely to get
is a neutral face,
blinking twice before a smile twitches to life,
and a sincere murmur
that everything is fine.

I will tear her to shreds -
my teeth and claws are sharp
with righteous rage,
but I hold them back
because its wise,
because the little brother
I have claimed
doesn't want me to.

I will still rage,
but channel it well,
turning it to doings
and care,
plying him with food and sweets-

but sharping daggers for anyone else
who might try to hurt him

Come to me,
precious one,
who smiles so kindly,
who excitedly is.

Sit in my kitchen,
and drink my tea,
laugh,
sing,
you are more
than welcome here.

You are a friend
I gladly chase
for you have so shortly
won me over.
Be happy here.
Be safe here.

I like my practical side,
that looks at the time I have left
in the places I reside,
and tells me not to worry.

I hate the desperate side,
that claws at my heart
and tells me
I'll never be loved
if I'm not now,
even though my mother
was far older than me when she met my father-

but I'm the only single one
in my house,
so I'm sitting alone with a beer
while twin sets of laughter echo down the stairs,
and it hurts
but where else can I go?
To flee is to take refuge in escapism,
which never lasts long.

So I take a swig of my beer
and write a dumb poem,
and wish I had better things to write
since I shared this with friends.

I want someone to lean on,
and not fear I am weighing them down
for they lean on me, too,
using physics to hold up a world.
I'm just so tired
of friends who forget me.
Maybe there's something
deeply wrong with me
and I just have to find out
what it is,
and fix it,
and then this annoying need,
this annoying sadness,
will go away.

Warm,
surrounded by friends,
practically covered with them,
as we laugh,
we smile,
and I feel happy
content
and wish for these moments
to stretch out
and multiply

He's new,
and I like him,
how he smiles and dances,
how he smiles at me
and pulls better dance from my bones-
to stay here,
to discuss Plato with him
and dance some more,
would be a dream
I can't afford to treat myself to

My heart is pounding,
racing,
I'm freaking the fuck out
because I've just turned in
my first application
for being an adult
for an after-college job
and it's in France
of all places
because if I've got to go leave a trail of broken hearts
best to do it overseas
and I'm both terrified
and excited.

Zuko is ever so grateful for Toph’s lessons on the cold bus ride -
he’s been training firebending with her;
picking up where Uncle left off
in adding earthbending techniques to his bending -
because when the bus suddenly slams to a stop
he remains standing, centering himself in his piece of floor,
letting gravity take him just far enough
into the bend of his knees
and the grip of his arm on the pole he stands firm –
not the the brunette next to him,
who reeks of waterbender
as she tries to react against inertia,
losing instead and crashing into Zuko,
her hands clutching at his shoulders even as she’s thrown into him -
but he can’t be mad when she looks up at him
with embarrassed eyes in a blue he never could have imagined -
she’d outshine any sapphire, any fire opal -
her mouth drops open and he can imagine the stammering apology
so he cuts her off with a smile,
wide and genuine and real,
and whispers a corny line with just enough self-awareness
she smiles back and laughs –
and months later when they’ve gotten into trouble again -
serves him right for loving a girl that befriended Aang
rather than moon after the Avatar -
he’s ever so grateful for Toph’s lessons
because the men chasing Katara expect fire to come from his fists,
not sprout from the ground after an earthbending-style kick -
“Alright, Sparky!” -
then he has his hand in hers -
“You don’t have to hold my hand when we run, Zuko!” -
and thinks about the kisses he’ll steal later on the bus ride home together



(hahahahahahahahahahha I wrote a poem that's a Zutara fanfic someone kill me now or pay me)

I am just
weary

a morning at the dentist
a paycheck a week late
overdrawn because of the clerk's mistake with my mother's account
sore everything
half-functioning laptop
a cough that won't leave
a letter i refuse to look at

things to do that i can't do
won't do
because to do so
invites anxiety
depression?
worry
perfectionism
so i collapse to cope
and call myself a failure

fighting's better
fighting fixes things
and improves my mood and outlook

but i'm just so damn weary

All the friends around me,
young and aflame,
and yet it with my mother
I am most comfortable un-sober

SEE YOU IN LESS THAN A WEEK

I send to every friend that texts me,
drowning out the invading loneliness
with volume
because I have this awkward week -
poor and an "only child" -
where my sister and high school friends
have returned to college
but my classes are a week later.

and my best friend,
my sister in everything but birth,
she aches and I cannot heal,
she grieves but I can only say,
"I know; I'm sorry; I love you."

it's not enough,
not for me anyway,
so I'll throw things halfheartedly at my powerlessness,
as I pace alone,
grieving for a grandmother not mine,
who's gone home,
but left someone who needed her.

My only real resolution
was to stop writing poems to ex's

I got that down.

I think I left the rest of my improvement
up to myself and God
because the things that need fixing
aren't simple enough
to write down on a slip of paper
and brag about upholding

I will ache for a while

but I'm reading more!

The song that carried me
when people left
when i left people
has been dethroned.

For three laptops,
over six years,
it has been the song
most played
that I own,
the collection of piano notes
and soaring contratenor
in a bittersweet melody
has finally been overtaken,
not by the Irish boys I once thought of,
but swinging,
bold,
joyous music
I never imagined.

I wonder if I am happier,
that I listen to happy music
in this chapter of life.


(The dethroned: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqUdiBaTSNg
The reigning: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t7ojM_TdwuI
The could-have-been: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nuorM2gu4Ps)

365 days of failure,

of mistakes,

of "oh my -- I can't believe I just --

augh"

365 days of feeling awful

of mistake after mistake-

365 days of amazing,
of little blessings,
of "oh my I didn't realize
that meant so much to you"
365 of doing right,
of greatness.

the days blur together
as we grow older
and have more to remember.
single moments are lost
leaving only an impression,
positive or negative.

I have let the latter overpower,
overwhelm,
control me.
It's not much of a resolution,
not when I know I'll fail.
But I'll suit up for battle anyway,
determined to see more good
this year
than the last.

Happy New Year~