I am currently trying to put together a portfolio of some of my work. Please message if you have any comments, advice, suggestions and corrections. I would extremely appreciate any honest constructive criticism you make have. Really. Please let me know if you don't like something, why, does it not make sense, how would you improve it, what word(s) would you have used instead.... And any suggestions will help me grow as a writer and help me see my work in a better way. i would love to hear what you have to say. 

many thanks xoxo.

<3

>>:: Bitter ::081127::<<

And the wind through the trees, hearing leaves crash and

Fall under snow, the frost bitter cold.

But his eyes, he can't see; 

He begs her to stop.

But she's seen enough; she feels too much.

Please... just please... he starts to regret--

Regret what he did -- Regret tightened fists.

She's walking away; she then picks up speed,

Runs down the hallway, busts open the doors.

Then letting go, doors lock -- cut off light

As shivers make up every inch of her skin.

In tears she shakes alone on the ground,

Her lips turn to blue; he bit-her cold

Through the lies and the wishes

that don't mean a thing.

>>::07.230908 :: Just know ... never mind stop ::<<

But just know...

You'll never be as pretty as them...

             So forget the make up -- it's all fake,

             But it helps. Spend money on designer socks, can't hide those worn, ripped shoes.

             Stick your fingers down your throat; there's never too much bone.

             Keep smoking Camel cigarettes and taking those white pills.

And don't chip your tooth once they're braced straight because that's all they will notice.

Tried to colour but your hair died - too quickly your roots showed...

             Why even bother trying to change?...

I guess I understand... because any change would be better than what you have,

             Be better than

                          what you are.

You'll never be just good enough.

They are so beautiful, and they've got the talent, and they've got the attention

And you ... well ...

...you they don't care so much about.

But please go ahead;

         Try...

         Think about it;

         Rehearse it over and over and over and over...

         And over until you've had too much;

         Like breathing, you've had too much

         Hyperventilating, still claim you need more air...

         You're thinking too much.

         Rehearse it over and over and over and over and 

 Still--

         Can't breathe.

         You're trying and trying and trying and

Trying to breathe, but seems you've forgotten how.

So you try harder and harder and

Keep thinking more and more and

more thoughts rush past taxis and stay focused on the limos

--oh, just forget about the bus stop. 

      More air. More thoughts. More lessons to be learned. More things forgotten.

                More short breaths

                            More...

What do you do when the driver pulls the breaks and your world just... well...

         stops?

Still you can't breathe -- forgotten how.

Trying to remember...

But you shouldn't think about that... why do you think about it all the time?

                  STOP.

Stop trying. Stop caring. Stop thinking. Stop obsessing.

Stop trying to remember. Stop thinking. Stop breathing.

Stop caring.

>>::Stolen Glance::<<

It's the little things, the stolen glance

that start to linger deep;

Deep beneath; and through your skin,

and seep through tin heart walls.

Walls now breathe,

he snores sometimes, but I've never felt so safe.

His arms tucked tight around my ribs,

heart beating on my back.

I fall in love with after shave,

and fingers through my hair.

He's terrified of breaking me,

but he put me back together.

Now wrapped in tight with fitted sheets

that linger with his scent,

And back and back,

can't turn back time -- but wouldn't change a thing.

These broken arms can't hold him down,

but please don't slip away.

And just before you turn your head, remind me,

what's your name?

>>:: Another mess .0550.090106.::<<

All these years in the same damn body, trying to figure what the point is of it all.

Trying to figure out who to be so I can rip through this skin and be just that.

Most of us have belief in a just world when things are just not fair.

People look with these judgmental eyes as if they know it all;

as if they know me;

         as if they know themselves

When really they are just as lost as I am.

So I sit back and watch this show get old,

And tick - tick - tick; then time explodes as your li(n)es blow up in your face.

Trying to get a grab of it all, but everything is a mess.

Uncertainty is all it is; not knowing what you can't control.

So we dangle off the edge,

Thinking we're hanging our heads with rope when we're really just white thread.

And so we start to then wrap our heads around the idea

        of life --

        of a single wooden spool.

And we often get tangled up and caught up in the knots,

When it's really not worth it.

We continue going round and round trying to find the point.

And we continue along, stitching memories and hopes on our hearts and on their minds,

Hoping that some things will never be forgotten.

And along the way we lose ourselves, tripping over shoelaces and thoughts that were left untied.

At least once we are all bound to land in the mud,

    destroying our naive point of view,

    destroying our white thread.

Experience mixed black and white, tossed between extremes,

Turn to shades of grey, as sometimes memories fade.

Spilling juice, then cranberry-vodka, and spilling lies and secrets.

Filled with envy and shades of blue -- We never stay one colour.

And sometimes you can't look back,

''keep going,''

      ''keep going,''           

                          round and round.

A stupid little thought -- a stupid little knot.

There will always be lumps from those knots, but we did move on.

So round and round the wooden spool, circling us back to the beginning,

hoping we won't run out of thread, 

or that we'll get cut off,

Because we always do want more....

>>>:: Guilt Tricked them to Love :: 090530

There are no means to hurt her;

he just always wants his way,

So, pushing limits against her thighs,

he'll push until she breaks.

But broken hearts do break us down

in pieces that we lose,

And rush ahead of broken toes

though bones aren't meant to break.

She woke up sleeping on the floor;

he took up too much space,

Then tossed and turned the other way

before she could get through.

Walls now breathe, but windows fall

and shatter on the ground,

Cutting souls with bits of glass

still claim their skin's too thick.

Too thick to feel anything,

though guilt tricked them to love

As secrets leak and bleed all out

and linger like a whore.

>>:: Untitled 2 ::<<

 It doesn't make much sense why they try so hard to fit in;

Always busy cutting skin to put squares into a circle;

Cutting corners not realizing that sometimes we need an edge.

Too many people just can't see through walls,

But we need the dirt to feel the clean; to know when we're in a mess.

So watching them become really nothing real--

They fake up what's already fake: more layers and more walls.

>>::There’s a difference ::<<

Wake up.

          Wake up.

                   Wake up. Please, just wake up.

There’s a difference, you know,

Between these dreams and reality.

And I keep on dreaming these beautiful dreams,

So I sleep, and I sleep. Petrified to open my eyes. Because as soon as I do, I know I’ll forget.

So I grip my hands and grind my teeth, and then I roll over I continue to sleep.

…and I need to stay awake, so I can forget--

these long dreams are mean; short day dreams, just tease,

and reality is just, well …real.

        And I dream

                     …but these dreams are so unrealistic. Get over it.

       It’s over;

                     My time is up,

and my body gets older -- won’t be able to keep up much longer.

So rejection just places me in front of the game -- in front of the train, and I can’t get inside.

Strapped to the window to watch all of them; forever, they're dreaming inside their beds.

But I know I’m now a good four feet ahead, because I see the difference

Because the difference is huge

                Between these dreams and what’s realistic.

And it might take a little longer and cut my insides so much deeper, but I know.

There’s a difference

Between these dreams and reality.

And all I want to do is go back to sleep.

         (…but I really need to wake up.)

>>::233.091024::<<

She thinks she needs some air to breathe--

some room to move around--

But grabs their arms across her chest

to feel like she's tied down--

To feel like she's locked somewhere safe--

locking high expectations low.

She attaches passwords on everything

and still feels quite exposed.

Fears the words that she wrote down

will bleed all out and stain.

So skin and bones; there's nothing left;

her heart no longer beats.

>>Skipping Ropes::<<

Bitter-sweet's the way to be with words that make you cry,

And I just don't know how to act or how to feel inside.

( know me better than I know myself; that gets me in these knots

With tiny knots within these knots which we can't undo.)

I love the games we play too much, but words get in the way.

Continue playing, skipping ropes, double dutch in double meanings,

till we let loose and lose the rope or it starts to rain.

We fear too much we'll lose it all, so we grip on way too tight,

Wrapping rope around our wrists--tightening the tension.

And people jumping in and out which messes up your game,

(But quickly pick up once again skipping through the knots.)

So double dutch in double meanings, just don't step on the rope.

>>::Losing Balance or Opening Up::<<

Legs tucked tight -- two feet on the ground,

You’re head is ducked down -- your fingers (are)

Laced in and out of silver lining

that only turns grey with wisdom and time.

Transparent glass walls, but still they don't see,

But looking around, you see all their means.

Behind paired glass eyes, another long story

that you often misread because there're no words.

Hands pushed up against your glass walls,

but you’re really not sure if you want a break.

No sure if it's worth it--not sure if you’re ready.

So step, and you step so slowly away.

You see, glass does shatter and some bit's you can't see,

And you're terrified you'll be another piece--

A piece of the story, another ripped page,

Another quick breath, or a sunset that fades.

And sometimes the thought itself brings you down

even before you step toes on new ground.

So you're holding breath, away from the wall,

Alone in the silence, two feet on the ground.

>>:: 061008:: Called it Fall for a reason ::<<

Twilight’s gone, and now the sun is rising,

but still she’s pacing around the room

In figure eights, hands in a fist,

Asking the same damn question.

She officially declares she’s losing her mind

And really needs some sleep.

“I need to just calm down. I need to just breathe.

I need to let go.”

But she can’t.

Standing in line with all the others, waiting for her’s to be called,

She was just so eager to replace what she had years before--

Desperate for hours of practice.

But practice doesn’t make perfect; it drags on unfeasible dreams.

So standing in line with the others, she waited,

but her number wasn’t called.

His third was quickly forgotten, and her …well let’s just say she lost count.

She didn't even feel close--like a friend--and quickly was replaced.

That stupid thing was just a game; both used the other - it's over--

Really didn’t mean much more. He didn't even care for 'hello.'

Didn't care for.... much really,

And so, they both forgot.

He left without a single wave, or an e-mail, at the least.

A hole waiting ten feet underground, a coffin filled with him.

He left with out saying bye, leaving all the tears for her.

And the water weight left her crushed.

So young and had so much more to live,

Those words where over said.

But clichés are there for reason: they're real,

and will hurt if true.

Her throat is sore and sick,

And her breath is colder than winter

Which is confusing because it’s only fall,

And she was always warmer than summer.

But our tans fade, highlights grow out, the flowers die,

And we get sick of sand in our shoes, and soon we do get cold.

They call it Fall for a reason,

But no one knew she would fall so hard.

She lays in bed, still wide awake,

And tears rush down and flood her face -- there's things she can't forget.

Her thoughts keep going like the second hand,

But changes topics like the hours.

>>::Untitled::<<

The breeze too quickly left me cold--

Like leaves we changed and dyed.

While the fear of winter made me fall,

His silence left me frozen.

He left me questioning if I could breathe

Because I couldn’t see my breath.

Constant shivering, the air was frozen.

But it turns out my breath was colder.

The lights blew out with the wind and the pages all over the room.

Always chasing after them--afraid to lose even one--

And I am left to put back the story in the dark without a c(l)ue.

A flickering match, and I remembered

That all of these pages where blank.

He always wrote in pencil--

Dirty habits were easier to erase.

But blank pages told his stories, and the truth behind his lies,

And even though he had erased, an imprint still was there.

I ran my fingers on engravings, feeling (e)very(thing) forgotten.

And yes, for him it was forgotten, because it wasn't there to see.

>>:For you my love::<<

I'm sorry that he hurts you love, it breaks my heart that he does. Forgive him each and every time; when will you ever stop? Stop with whipped eyes, be slapped awake and stop walking into walls-- The walls you know will never break, and shattered you apart. He never did fall deep enough, but you -- it hit you hard; Deep beneath and through your skin, your heart still skipping beats. Skipping though you thoughts of him, you which you can forget. Remember that he fucked you over; remember, he forgot; Forgot just how much that he cared -- at least, how much he claimed. Forget his eyes, forget his face, forget lines in his hands. Remember wishing he'd grab yours -- instead he walked away. Forget his walk and how he calls -- "I love you"s on the phone. Forget those late night conversations that could never last too long. They never did mean much to him -- but nothing really did. So forget his laugh and his smile, forget he said "I'm sorry" And remember he's still fucking her until you take him back. Now take a second, try to breathe, and act like you don't care. Forgetting is sometimes too hard; forgive, and he won't change. So over and over you say again "I hate you" and again. But hatred takes so much from you - he's just not worth that time.