The Dare

Your eyes say

Take my hand.

Your smile says

Trust me.

And the offered hand?

I dare you.

My fingers brush your palm

and I’m pulled to my feet and spun

around the kitchen

and your tilted grin

makes my stiff steps

awkward spins

and uncertainty

melt away

Then…

There is only

your hand in mine

your head on my shoulder

your lips on my neck

our steps slowly circling

round and round the kitchen

as my eyes close

and I promise

my dancing will get better

Ghost Touches

I can still feel the pressure of your hand

holding,

caressing,

teasing…

The places your lips fell burn on in

my memory,

my skin,

my thoughts…

I can still smell your oh-so-unique scent on

my pillow,

my clothes,

my skin…

The ghosts of your touch, your lips, your scent

haunt me as I go through my day

twine into my dreams

and shield me from darks

I can still feel my

fingers running through silky hair

teeth grazing your sensitive neck

and legs straddling of your hips

The power we have over each other

chases me through the day

now if only we had the power

to make it to the opportune moment

Imagine

Close your eyes.

Imagine

the perfect body.

Everything you could ever want in another:

same height, same weight, and all her curves

in all the right places.

Two perfect little handfuls,

tug-able hair and hips I just want to pull close.

I can see my fingers running through her hair,

tracing her lips

to neck

to color bone

to cleavage

to ribs

to hips

to thighs

to knees

to calves

to two cute feet.

I can see the kisses trail I make

back up the way I just came down

(except to course some brief side trips to

secret ‘hot’ spots and trigger points).

I worship this body, love it and

learn it’s sacred bits.

But when I go to kiss her,

all I feel is

you.

Your heart pumping,

body shaking,

panty wetting,

breath taking,

kiss.

confusion

fear

annoyance

fatigue

avoidance

resignation

and so many thoughts

coursing through me

tangling in upon one another

over and over and over and over

what to do?

what to do?

what to do?

Head, Heart or Gut?

I do not know if

My mind

My heart

Or my gut

Is telling me

Warning me

Whispering

That this is a bad idea

If it’s my head...

Then I may be

over-thinking

worrying too much

and ignoring my heart

If it’s my heart...

Then I may be

scared of being hurt again

wary of trusting my heart to another

and unsure of if this is worth the hurt

But if its my gut

then I’m screwed

this is doomed

and I should stop it now

But how in the world

am I supposed to know the

difference!?

A Letter

Dear You,

Yes, you. You intoxicating,

thrilling, and destructive thing you.

We need to talk.

I don’t know if it’s because of lack of time

lack of space in my brain

or lack of something else.

But I didn’t really think of you for a whole day

and I was proud.

And then I was ashamed. Ashamed of the pride. Because

why in the world should not thinking

of you be a thing for pride?

When did you highjack my mind, thoughts and body?

Why can you pull me in with just your presence?

Why can I not control myself? My heart double timed

when I saw you were here. And my eyes constantly search

when I am somewhere you should be.

It’s exhausting, scary, and confusing as fuck.

When I don’t see you, you aren’t the constant presence

in the back of my mind.

I am (momentarily) free

without even realizing it.

And then you are there, in my heart and my mind,

your grip so tight that I’m still thinking of you

six hours later

It fucks with me, this grip you have

over my heart (beating so fast when I catch a glimpes of you)

my mind (wanting to poke you, steal your hat,

to frame your face and kiss you)

my body (I can still feel your lips on mine, weeks after)

I thought the grip was loosening,

but no. It’s just as strong as ever

and I’m just as confused as ever.

How (and why) do you make me feel this way?

When the thought of guys (and things with guys)

unnerves me to no end.

What give you the right?

Honestly,

Yours truly

The Flame

My love is like a temptress,

a light shining bright,

and I the moth

drawn intoxicatedlly toward it

knowing full well the light

is

death

and

yet

uncaring

The Ledge

The ground shifts under my feet and I pause, taking a breath

an attempt to halt panic in it’s steps.

the ledge is narrow,

wide enough for my foot

millimeters on the side

Small margin of mistake

It takes all my concentration to stay here, a

if that’s the case, how can I enjoy it?

Enjoy the view

So high, so up

so good

Instead of the dark

the valley

the hole

that is my usual surroundings

Concentration lapses

toes curl to grip the ground

fingers splay to catch something

anything

No use

Back were I’ve started

Takes so much to just grab on something

and pull myself off my fat ass

onto my feet

And so much more

to gather myself and start again

Because that brief glimpse

of sky

of clouds

of sun

of life

is magnetic.

The going is slow, laborious, arduous

and every inch is painstakingly won

with tears and sweat.

Often I fall back,

landing on hard ground

unforgiving and

unrelenting

and it’s harder to

get back up

every

time

I

hit

the

ground

I sit on the ground,

slowly sinking

farther into the black

only to look up;

see a hand

of a friend

of a roommate

of complete stranger

grasp it

stand up

try again

With help

and because

that ever so brief glimpse

of sky

of clouds

of sun

of life

is magnetic.

Change the World

I want to

DO

so much.

I want to change the world.

And I think we can do it

I have so many things

I want to change.

So many things I want to accomplish:

make the world a better place

have it legal for me to marry whomever I fall for

increase world literacy

decrease world suck

create some amazing light designs.

Is that so hard to ask?

But I can’t

not without help,

not without friends

not without fixing myself.

I will be of no use to anyone

if I can’t fix my brain.

If I can’t re-tune the receiver

re-wire the hardware

and fix me.

no more sudden mood shifts

no more falling off the narrow ledge

no more despair so heavy I can’t function

no more being a burden

no more teasing words

no more changeability

maybe.

But

what

do

I

do,

if

I

fail?

Piles

History

on top of

English

on top of

Government

on top of (more)

English

on top of

Theatre

on top of (more)

Theatre

on top of

Clubs

Organization and

Church

Stacked and towering on

worry about

cute people

(oh so many cute people)

faraway family

(I can’t wait to see you)

vanishing friends

(no time to sleep let alone talk)

All precariously

balanced

on

very

small

shoulders.

I am constantly

dodging

the pot-holes of life

Hoping

the pile doesn’t fall,

I don’t trip,

and maybe, someday,

I’ll find my ‘You’

Thoughts on Summer

I miss you, why

do I miss you when

I saw you today?

I miss summer,

but summer was only

three

days

ago.

I miss the way

we used to talk,

and laugh

and joke.

Conversations

lit by glowing

cherries, streetlights

and stars.

I miss the ease

we had with

each other. No

boundaries, no

worries, no

awkwardness

getting

in the way.

Nothing

hanging

over us.

No ax

waiting to

drop.

I miss not

texting you,

because then I

didn’t worry

when you

didn’t

text, no

worries and no

thoughts, no

constant checking

of the phone. No

waiting and

wondering, has he?

Not

yet,

not

yet,

not

yet

I

miss,

I

miss,

I

miss

you.

Three new Poems

I don’t regret it;

the only reason I could

would be if I lost you…

Not going to let that happen.

Time will do it soon enough,

I’m in no mood for

rushing

that

awful

master

When it comes to

you and I,

neither am I

That master will

soon

take you from me.

You will leave,

to join one group

or an other.

And I-

well I will still be here,

or maybe

here-but-not-here,

in a distant place,

where hopefully

your

ghost

won’t

follow

If the master

doesn’t take you,

then the Lady will.

You’re scared

of repeating

mistakes and so

(as I welcome her

with open arms)

she will chase you

away

sooner

or

later

And the Lover doesn’t like you

And yet is blinded by your

charm,

grin and

caring eyes

but once

immune you

will be exiled

maybe

(hopefully)

forgotten.

Only to be thought of

on quite days filled with

“what if?”

“who knows?”

and brief smiles

So,

the eternal question

begs an answer…

Why do I

care about the

Master

or the

Lady

or the

Lover?

~~~

Talking to you is a bad thing

This is me.

I know better

than to do bad things.

I read up on, think about and plan,

before even looking at a possible leap.

And yet here I am,

talking to you,

because I did something

without

looking

at

all

When we talk

I get confused

and despair.

Why

is it so simple to talk to,

so easy to lean on,

so effortless to want to help

you?

Why can’t I just see a friend?

When that’s

what we both

desperately

need now

nothing

more

and

nothing

less.

And then…

you grin,

and all I can think about is

sugarcoatedelectricitykisses

and if

anything

you read in

young adult lit is

true.

Heart pumping,

legs shaking,

hair tugging

kisses

but…

(of course)

there is this hitch,

a small,

little-

who am I kidding ?

very

big

problem

in the way…

Thinking about

sex with you

just gives me the

heebie-jeebies.

I shiver, and groan

and get the urge to

shake

when I think

too much.

Now, it’s not just you,

it’s the whole male population,

but still…

you

(with your lightingsugarkisses)

are part of that.

So

while I sit

and think about

a possible (maybe)

youandme,

I never

get past kisses.

Can barely think of

kisses because

kisses

lead

to

other

things

and those could

ruin

this already awkward

friendship even faster than

talking

can…

and yet I talk to you

clinging to friendship

I pray will be there

when this is all done

~~~~

Faces

So many cute faces,

coming from

this

way

and

that.

Faces with scruffy five o-clock

shadows and bright eyes.

Or bodies with two perfect handfuls…

and short hair you just want to

tug

and

pull

this

way

and

that.

There are perfect

and not-so-perfect

bodies that lead to

bits

that

just

squick

me.

And then bodies

with curves in all

the right places and

secrets

hidden

in

folds.

Wary of being ‘icked’

I can’t let my eyes

wander too far

past

the

scruffy

faces,

but the faces with the

short, tug-able hair,

and bodies with

two

perfect

handfuls?

Oh,

eyes

wander

and

thoughts

wonder

Phantoms and Questing

Questing

I am on a

quest

for the perfect

mind boggling

shivers up your spine

heart pumping

legs shaking

feels like electricity

Kiss

I’ve been told about it

often,

in books and

plays and

shows and

movies and something

that could have been a dream

yet I still

Believe

~~~

Phantoms

You are not who I’d thought you’d be

Words I never thought I’d say,

or

say

again

Yet I see phantoms:

sitting on picnic benches

defying normality

one’s sitting on the table

talking to the other

who is looking down,

so much weight on those big shoulders

and then the wind picks up

dirt swirls

light changes as it

streams through the leaves

and

the

ghosts

are

gone

back

to haunting your memories:

where the action is stuck on repeat

the reaction is a constant flicker on the screen

and tears are a regular threat to the unsteady balance

who I’d thought you’d be

who I’d thought you’d be

who I’d thought you’d be

the inner monologue is skipping

a scratch on the record

and no way to fix it

is this what I’m doomed for

the unexpected?

ones that never fit the plan

idea

dream

the ones so likely to crush your heart

the ones who you are scared of hurting

and yet not caring what happens?

You are not who I’d thought you’d be…

On writing

I’ve missed you

But I’m nervous

worried

afraid

It’s been over two years

two long years

since I’ve tried to put my thoughts to

words

rhythm

meter

What if I’m no good

No good anymore

The words have been gone for

so

damn

long

What will come out

Come pouring out

Will this trickle turn into a flood from my

heart

mind

soul?

Winter's snowy season

Here are 4 poems. This first one is a few months old, and in the early stages and hasn't been edited or trimmed at all.

Winter’s snowy season

I am pacing in a spacious room,
So caught up by my own thoughts
that the fiery flicker coming from the other side of the room
is completely ignored.
I am thrown into shadows that slyly try a new trick,
Kidnapping.

Pacing and thinking of the way snow has fallen.
Fallen loudly with big wet splats on the roof and windows,
thrown there by sharp, merciless sprits.
The branches on the evergreen trees
Are twisting and turning before breaking,
Loudly.

The air smells burnt, and I laugh at the hilarity.
Air cannot burn…right?
But my laugh is listless, just like the poor fern
dying in the corner. Then a sultry voice echoes through the room,
and I start as if a cannon has shot. She is elegantly dressed in
Shadows.

A hand on her hips and a smile that stifles the gasp in my throat.
They fall over her like black silk and I wonder what
possessed me to leave the metropolis and fall
into her trap. A grin and the shadows chase after me.
Darkness pulls me down before I can scream, consciousness swims
Away.

Hello!

Hello!

"I'm a 20 year old college student. I'm in my sophomore year, but if you count by hours I'll be a junior in the spring (I've very excited about this). I'm a double major in theatre and English.

If you know anything about theatre, you understand that it eats your soul and you have very little free time. With that free time I read, and I'm trying to start a chapter of The Harry Potter Alliance on my college campus. I love books and want to bring that as many people as possible. So I've started a book review vlog on youtube." (from my book review blog)

Basically, I need a new place to keep my poetry. Facebook's new way of formatting notes it horrible and so I'm taking the advice of a few friends and putting my poetry here. I have no idea how much or how often I will be posting here. I've only recently gotten bit by the poetry bug again.

I hope you enjoy the poems!

Spark