Being mature for your age is not something you could have prevented.

I cannot see my hand in front of me

Standing in crisp cold water

My footed flesh flinches as I step one foot in front of another

Hello?

I will carry the feeling of your hands on my body with me

Till the day I am buried

Still six feet under

I am a survivor

Someday I’ll love Meadow McNaney

Someday I’ll dance through her name

And swim in the depths of her personality 

A sight for sore eyes

Beautifully damaged yes

Can’t you see

Do I not try enough

Energy is lacking inside of me

For I am just barely surviving

There is so much gold coloring on the walls,

Yet so much gray reflects off the people. 

Reflecting off the lifeless faces. 

But what happens when night falls?

That is the daring question. 

Here there is too much sadness and not enough cotton candy clouds in the sky.

But I’ve learned to find beauty in the night,

Through the moon. 

Ode to chargers

Not the wire plug in chargers for our modern day technology

But to the chargers that refuel

Re-energize

And bring life back to

What’s her fatal flaw?

Looking at her across the mirror,

She intrigues me. 

Simply because I can’t figure her out. 

I relapsed. 

I relapsed on you,

More times than I can count on my fingers. 

Five forty-five; my alarm goes off

fifteen more minutes

Six; my alarm goes off again

why is it always so cold in the mornings