I normally write articles about people I love and things I am interested in, but when I sat down to write this week's article I thought, "Why not try something different?" Some of you who know me well know that I write poetry. A few of you know that I used to write poetry on Tumblr. It's often awkward and embarrassing to display your work on a social platform, but when you write for a bunch of strangers, it's like you're writing for yourself. Everything else falls away and you're left with raw, unfiltered poems. These are a few of mine. Yes, they may be amateur poems, but that's okay. I still like them. (Note: Many of these poems sound depressing, but they were written through poetic exploration and random inspiration. In other words, all is well.)

Bones

When I’m itching to ditch this skin,
peeling it like a Chiquita banana
to see if my bones are as white
as piano keys, I wonder what it
would be like to redecorate.
My epidermis is custom-made
but I want to play dress up in
foreign skin, smearing someone
else’s smile across my face when
I say hello. First impressions are
always easier the second time.

When I want to strip to the bone
and wrap myself in secrets, I
remind myself that it’s like
evacuating an old ghost.
Unfamiliar skin is not something
I want to sleep in.

Afterlife

He kisses me
like the world is
ending and my
lips are his final
prayer. Heaven
is abstract but I’m
concrete; he says
I’m the only angel
he can touch.

My flimsy skin cages
his demons while
mine play house
inside his chest.
When we talk
about making love
last I don’t think he
realizes how close
we are to Hell.

Bouquets

Give me whispers wrapped
around bouquets, words
carved into the hourglass
of time so when the sand
spills, it spells out poetry.

Any Last Words

tell me that falling
in love feels nothing like this

(it feels everything like this)

it’s such a nuisance
these feelings that
rope me up

why is the
noose so
tight

The Aftermath

Silver tongues filter
sentences, constructing
skeletons from all the
bones of unfinished
conversations. My
corpses aren’t in
coffins; they linger
in the air like dust,
haunting hearts
that still break
from words.

Observations

Eyelids like butterfly wings
flutter softly, afraid
to disturb nature with
their sound. Sleep
flickers in and out
like a dying
candle.

Life is a cartoon
flashing by in snippets.
No one can make out
the words.

If You Win Her Heart

Catch her unaware,
spin her like the Ferris Wheel
at a county fair and tell her love
is nothing like magic. Magicians
disappear in a puff of smoke,
but you forgo Marlboros to watch
Bones in her apartment
with the lights on.

When you kiss her,
cup her face in both hands
and tell her love is nothing
like fairy tales. Prince Charming
never knew Cinderella's middle name,
but you aren't Prince Charming. You're
a knight in dollar store armor, wielding
your plastic sword to slay her
insecurities, and her name is
your favorite song.

When you ask her to be yours,
tell her that love doesn’t last
if there’s nothing to fuel the fire.
Place a match inside the ring box
and whisper that you will always
feed the flames.