in the storms 

spent much of my life

waiting,

but i think i'm done with that;

life is too short and time too fast—

i need to say and do and experience

so many things yet that i have

not known;

and i would love to meet the people

who love me that i haven't met yet,

the ones who will say forever

and mean it

not turn and disappear 

into themselves and in turn 

forget me—

i need someone to tell me forever

and mean it,

someone who will not only dance

in the rain with me but someone who will

hand me an umbrella when life tries to

break me in the storms.

without a name 

i used to talk a lot,

and laugh so loud; but they 

mocked me for it

now my voice is barely

more than a whisper and i tire

of repeating myself

endlessly—

silence curled around 

my mouth

for so many moons i lost

count,

books and music were the

words that kept me;

i was so wounded i didn't know

how to confess all of my 

scars because it felt as if no one

truly listened to hear me they just

wanted their turn to talk—

& i wanted to be seen,

to be heard, to be noticed;

but like frankenstein's monster

i was left without a name

and with wounds which would

scar me for all time.

light and dark 

my mom tells me

that my poems

are so dark,

but sometimes i find it

hard to find glimmers

of light;

my fingers become 

too entangled with

brambles and thorns

and vines—

sometimes dreams

can only come after 

vanquishing the

nightmares,

because monsters don't

sleep just because

we do;

and i won't let any monster

squash any more glimmers

and magic from my life

than they already

have if i have any say 

in the matter—

so, yes, sometimes

my poems are dark;

but i like to think that even

night has the moon—

i am both light and dark,

my poems will be; 

too.