First Impressions (poem) + Small Update

First Impressions

baby face, short hair, grains of stubble emerging to create

what I imagine to be a sand papery texture

on your cheeks, and jaw, and chin

I do not find out for myself

a rush of pigment, red as the tomatoes I asked the waitress to keep

off of my sandwich, rises between skin and cheekbone and I feel

that I should be enjoying myself

so that’s what I do

it’s been such a long time since the first time

I played this game of does it work or not

like testing new shoes in the store, analyzing the way

I feel, scared I’m overlooking flaws in

all the excitement

of something new

~6/25/17

For anyone interested, yes, the time has come. I'm going to college. Yikes. I'll be trying to post regularly--and I do have some actual posts on the way that aren't just poems--but we'll see what happens. Everyone's telling me that I won't have time to even breathe. Again, yikes. Maybe I'll even talk about it on here, but, personally, I don't think that I'm interesting enough to be talking about myself. Additionally, I hope to be regularly posting to my YouTube channel, but I'll be in the same situation...... plus the fact that filming will probably be extremely awkward in college. Oh boy. Anyway, as usual, thank you so so much for reading and please feel free to say hello, let me know what you think, or add suggestions in the comments section! 

"The world is changed by your example not by your opinion."--Paulo Coelho

I Lied When I Said I Already Had Plans (poem)

I Lied When I Said I Already Had Plans

Don’t want to leave the house.

Don’t want to leave the bed,

except for the guilt of staying.

Favorite colors turn shades of beige.

The problem is so very monotone.

I feel I am not truly suffering,

that it cannot be recognized until

it screams in my ears

and rattles my body, but

it doesn’t.

It lurks in the shadows like a predator,

but the claws never extend, and the teeth

never sink in.

Only its gaze is upon me.

I shift my feet, look over my shoulder,

and habitually find distraction

from this elusive weight.

Like a puppet master, it has its grip

in my head—it doesn’t need to hunt.

I begin to prey upon myself.

I turn away from the safety of the herd

in plain sight of my hunter.

Declined plans, rejections, nights of solitude.

These aren’t what I’m afraid of, but

what I did.

What a convenience I had headache that day.

How lovely for plans to fall through.

I think I’m tired. Yeah… tired.

Better go home.

Wounds slowly appear—the shriveled body

that hasn’t seen sun—not just on myself,

but on the planners, the inviters.

I don’t know if it’s my fault or

the fault of this predator.

This predator has left me

all alone, staring

at beige walls

with empty hands.

~2016

As always, thank you so much for reading and taking time out of your day for a little poetry :)

If you're interested at all in my music, you can check out my YouTube channel, too. 

Better to Have Loved (poem)

Better to Have Loved

To love someone,

Waiting at the door,

Nervously meeting parents,

Afraid to take his hand for the first time

He points to childhood memories

As we drive by

There is no singular rush of passion

Met by a casual “see you later”

There are last glances before rounding the corner

There is the ticket on my wall

From the day I met you

There are no samplers standing

With doors and sheets open wide

And there are no painless goodbyes

Yes, I wish I didn’t feel sometimes

I grit my teeth, wipe my eyes, and tell myself

It’s worth it

It was worth it

At least I loved, even if I lost

Even if you won

~January, 2017

This poem actually came about after reading Brave New World and having the assignment to write poems about the book. This isn't really about the book, more real life, but it did help inspire it. Maybe I'll post the other ones that actually reference the story sometime (hint hint, if that interests anyone, let me know in the comments).

“But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.” ― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World