Willow Tree

I cry,
I shake,

He keeps me safe.
I'm silent,
I'm lost,
He wipes off my frost.
I wonder,
I stare,
He wipes away my hair.
I want him,
I need him,
But this feels grim.
Love,
Trust,
I must wipe off the dust.
He's there,
I'm here,
I want him near.
Wind,
Waves,
Bring him to my grave.
I lost myself,
I lost it all,
My grave rests where I fall.
I fall,
I died,
Just a little inside.
I wanted more,
I wanted it,
But there was nothing left that fit.
I want him to know,
I hope he understands,
That the wind pushed me like a grain of sand.
Bring him to me,
Let him see,
That he could be my willow tree.

Hallway

He stands in the hallway.

He looks into my eyes as I glide past his fragile body. 

A smile passes between us.

But we both pull away.

We both know its wrong. 

His painting drips blood, 

Mine explodes colour. 

If only he could see the colours I see. 

If only he could see the dreams I see. 

He's close to me. 

Face to face we stand intertwined. 

Chapped lips brush mine.

I can feel him. 

His face is warm.

My chest pumps blood.

His arms are strong.

My hair blows in the wind.

Opening my eyes, I see.

I see him in the hallway.

The Eyes You've Always Dreamt Of

There are some times in life that leave me wondering. They always seem to affect me in a way I can't write about. When you look back and think of what could have been. Sometimes I see myself twisting my head back, glancing over my shoulders. Wind in hair with aging trees and orange leaves as a backdrop. Sometimes I wonder. I used to wonder what would happen to me if I was stuck in an unfaithful relationship - unfortunately I no longer need to wonder. Subconsciously we all have the 'perfect' person in mind and you settle for less because you don't understand you deserve better. I settled for almost two years. But now I can look into someone's eyes who has the eyes I used to envision. I can hold his body, the one I have always wanted. Life leaves you wondering, but sometimes after a hard lesson learnt, life gives you the eyes you've always dreamt of.

Time; A Journey of Wonder

I walk around this world wondering where I'm meant to be. But sometimes I wonder if I'll find out in time, before my time runs out. What is time really? Every day the fraction becomes smaller and our days run shorter. We work so hard to achieve a world with physical objects. I want a degree, money, a man, a fit body, I want the picket-white fenced house. I want... Do we ever really consider the things we need in life that would take us further than these objects? Love, honesty, friendship, and courage are all abstracts that we realize once our time is up are worth all the time in the world. We may have a husband, or be truthful, or have friends, or be brave but can we really say that we have fully experienced these abstract notions during our time? I have truly loved? Not yet. Have I ever been completely honest? Maybe, but the next question would be what is honesty? Have I built friendships? Not true ones. Am I courageous? I don't think I ever will be. In the end, time is a rare entity and we will never get it back. The last ten minutes I spent writing this will never be brought back. Time is a journey and it is time to wonder.

A Forceful Smile

I walk outside on a dreary morning hoping to come across something different. The road still has its excavated pebbles that stick to my flip-flops and the grass is still emerald green awaiting the first frost. I glide to my bus stop and wave to the lady I see every Saturday morning before work. She always waves like a queen, fingers clenched together with a cupped palm.

Birds fly over my head and cover the sun for a few seconds, leaving me in darkness. The tips of maple and oak leaves are turning yellow, although that alone is the only change I notice.

People whizz by in their old, rattling pick up trucks and rusted ancient cars. Tires shoot damp rocks onto the sidewalks and I watch them bounce, like a stone skipping over water. I contemplate the amount of force it would take to send the pebbles so far, but I push my Grade 11 Physics lecture out of my head. Todays a Saturday and I refuse to work on science at nine in the morning on my way to work. My sister's voice pops into my mind, "Nerd."

The city bus picks me up and I get to work fifty minutes early, as usual and grab an everything bagel with plain cream cheese and a medium steeped tea. As the tea flows down my throat, it rids the dry brittle voice I had earlier. Warmth fills me as the tea reaches my stomach, calming my shivering body.
I march towards the opposite side of Mapleview Mall and strut into West 49 for my shift. After a year of working I still get butterflies, perhaps its because you never know what retail will throw your way.

Steve grins at me as I bolt in the door, unplugging my headphones from the white Blackberry.

"Hi Steve,"I say. My boss smiles and returns his sight to the register, most likely filling out the hourly low-down. We have goals each employee must reach in order to make budget, although lately we've been pretty behind.

Before shuffling to the back room I gesture to Tyler and Mitch. The two are behind the skate counter building skateboards and chucking used grip tape at each other. I chuckle as I walk by and listen to the rumbling heater laying above my head. The ceiling is exposed, revealing the silver piping and air ducts. It has always reminded me of a congested machine.

After the fifty minutes come to an end, I place my finger-tip into the machine outside the office door. Once the beeping finishes, indicating the beginning of my shift I toss on a lanyard and trudge onto the sales floor. Gliding up to the register, I check my goal and cash threw a customer waiting impatiently at cash.

"How are you today?" I force a smile and regurgitate the introductory line I repeat everyday...

Different From Our Hopes

It really is interesting how we all look at the future as a better place, somewhere that we can finally be ourselves and move on from childish problems. But, unfortunately, once you're there - you STILL do not fit in. The moans of the tired freshmen that were forced to wake up right after going to bed from a party, and the glares from older students who want nothing to do with you. You're finally here - College. The glorious future you saw for yourself is suddenly a reality and it isn't so shiny. The try-hard upper year dorm advisors and the cocky residence leaders leave you feeling misplaced and lost. Welcome to school everyone! You think growing up and finally achieving this milestone in your life would be good news, and it was - until you got there. It's cloudy and misting and sadly enough you have to wear that ugly white shirt that all freshmen wear (and they never wash them). If this is what I thought growing up would be like, I probably would have purposely failed high school. You think it'll be easy to make friends, until everyone gathers in their clans and you're the only blonde - alone again, EXACTLY like high school. I keep wondering if it's just me, maybe I just don't fit in, but as I look around there are others, who do not want to be here; pretending to enjoy losing our voices while singing a cheesy cheer. After four years of working hard for a high average and spending $15,000 on university, I thought it would be different.

Are You There God, It's me..?

Who are we? How do we know? I think the answer is we don't, we never will. Figuring it out is difficult, and sometimes it's frustrating. Sometimes I feel like there are signs that help, but most of the time it's just a confusing mess. I'm a confusing mess, which in one sense defines me but in another makes everything more complex. Physically, it's obvious who I am, but in a deeper meaning everything falls apart. Another problem is words aren't just words, there's so many branches making a word too bare. These words we use; outgoing, adventurous, thoughtful, bland, dull, are all just words that describe our personalities. Each one like a leaf on a tree in autumn, so fragile and weak - so how can they support the definition of who we are? I'm told that I am emotional and shy, but sometimes I talk to strangers, sometimes I hold back tears. If there are discrepancies in something as basic as a word, there must be exceptions in defining a person, so who am I? Maybe Margaret had it right (Judy Blume Reference)? Maybe there is an all powerful being that can determine who we are for us. We're just an individual in a sea of broken down, decomposing leaves.

Unfortunate Truth - Overlooking

I believe as humans we possess the tendency to overlook our mistakes and attempt to forget about them. Unfortunately this prevents people from learning and in many cases we refuse to grow up. We develop in a manner which we do not realize. We recognize an issue and instead of facing it head on, we trade a better future for a comfortable present. I'm not just talking about the large scales problems like global warming or obesity, I'm talking about overlooking people and how we interact with others. It is our duty as humans to respect those we are immersed around and pay attention. A sad, lonely boy walks by looking at his feet with tears streaming down his face. Do we just keep our steady pace and walk forward or do we take action and question it? Most take the first option, and leave him as is. This may be a critical point in his life, and could alter his future. So why do we walk by? Why do we overlook those in need and tell ourselves we couldn't do anything to help? Would we rather be in a comfortable world within our heads, as opposed to the uncomfortable reality we live in? This is not how we learn, this is how we fail - as a person, as a society, and as a nation. We are responsible for assisting those in need. We are the future and we will need to create a path for those IN the future. Stop overlooking and start asking.

Thank You

When did everything start to take a turn for the worst? When did all the pain suddenly become a head and hit me so strong directly in my stomach? It all happened two weeks ago when my heart that I had given to someone else was torn in half. The pain was and still is so indescribable that my words are not enough. The nausea filled my body making me sick, and the shaking wouldn't stop for days. I think the worst is the sting of my tears, the salty affect felt as though it melted my skin, incinerating everything I've known. The one person whom you give your world to, your life, becomes a small speck in the skeme of things when they decide to look into another person's eyes. The disgust lingers in my throat making my speech impaired and I still feel the sinking feeling every-time I think of her; the one person out of 7 billion people that contributed fifty percent to the deterioration of my relationship. If you're out there and smiling I want you to know, thank you.