And if I Stumble

Peace rests between your hard-stricken eyes

Softness curves the bones in your jaw

Harmony relaxes the strenuous blood flow

That keeps the rest of your senses alive.

Fingerprint swirls and lines

Leave shivers on my back

When you trace them at midnight

Spelling words I cannot read

Drawing pictures I cannot see.

Steady paced breathing

Is my challenge to become one with you

You test me without knowing it

But I live for these moments.

The smoothest velvet skin

Warm to the touch

But weary of treachery

You’re not the only one searching.

Lucky for us

We’re all searching together

And that will never change.

This is how we are fading.

Sometimes I think the only things that make sense in this world are God, music and writing. Heck, even God can be confusing at times. Amazing, but confusing. Us mere mortals can barely grasp his intentions and commands. We have mice ears. He has eagle eyes. Anyways, I've always stuck to strictly poetry in this handy little blog. But I figure since I'm a journalism major and plan on writing a few books in my day, I'll let you see a little more into my mind. A little, not a lot.

Music: What speaks to our hearts better than this? High school was hell for me, and music kept me in one piece. Hell as in Mean Girls hell...Matilda hell....the beginning scene of "He's just not that into you" kind of hell...think of all those movies that bring you back to your dread some adolescent years. Remember 13 Going on 30? Before she was cool, of course. Remember Never Been Kissed? That's a little bit too far. It was more that I was the one girl in my school who didn't have mile-high pageant hair, ed hardy on my chest, and MEKs straddling my legs. I was stuck to my huge Bose headphones. They were too intimidating....nobody wants to get near a girl with Bose on..trust me. But thanks to Joshua Radin, Bon Iver, and Lovedrug...I made those years much happier. Thank you music.

Poetry: You're quite a beautiful thing. Even if I'm not that great at it, it makes sense to me. I love to write...to keeping writing...to not stop writing. Even if it leaves people face down in the dust from confusion, it was well worth it. There are so many great stories to tell, so many emotions to explore and so many words to combine. It would be pointless to stop. Thank you poetry.

Hereafter

I wish a literary journal would publish one of my little poems. Rejection sucks.

Frankenstein

Tall, green and muscular

I wish I could be like that.

How about that one. Think it's journal worthy?