Trails Like The Moon When You Drive In A Car And Trails Like The Substance Of A Snail And Trails In My

I'll use the poems I wrote about you to fuel the bonfire I'm having with my friends and watch the ashes go up and fall back down on them like gray snow

The ashes of the words I wanted to say to you get caught in their hair and makes the smell linger even after the night has died down and the fire is out

I'll cut apart the braclets I made you and use them to make matching necklaces and earrings for my friends and get happy everytime they wear them

The beads I wanted to see on your wrists will shimmer on theirs like a little reminder

I'll play your favorite song for my friends the one you were always humming in class next to me and add it to our shared playlist

The song I'll now associate with my friends

And I'll cut out every part of you from my life and you'll never had existed

Everything that was yours is theirs because there is no more you

And I care so much when I write but suddenly i didn't care at the highschool when no one else would yell the cheers louder than me and I didn't care suddenly in the store joking loud with my sister and I didn't care when people thought i was weird because i hang out in the corner and wear dark clothes and makeup and like what I like and I don't care

"In a small cafe at a location so remote it stands in the middle of the middle of nowhere, John - a man in a hurry - is at a crossroads. Intent only on refueling before moving along on his road trip, he finds sustenance of an entirely different kind. In addition to the specials of the day, the cafe menu lists the questions all diners are encouraged to consider:

Why are you here?

Do you fear death?

Are you fulfilled?"

I'm not made to sit at my desk and listen to someone else drawl on and on about something for 45 minutes

I'm not meant to sit in a room with 200 other kids and be forced to go back to our separate classrooms after 30 minutes of eating mystery food

I'm not meant to be forced to toss a football back and forth or run a track

I'm meant to read and write and sit in tree houses and wander in fields

I'm meant to wear flower crowns and eat berries and olives all day

I'm meant to befriend the trees and deers and paint with flowers

I'm not made to sit in school

In a place where my voice doesn't matter

I'm not a poet I'm a girl with a lot on my mind and a girl who thinks about someone who doesn't think about me

I'm not a ninja I'm a girl who practices the art of kyukido and loves it but will never be better than her

I'm not a parent I'm a girl with a younger brother who's parents don't seem to know the difference between right and wrong anymore

I'm not smart I'm a girl who reads sometimes and does research for fun but I only have so much surface level knowledge to keep you curious for a little

I'm not funny I steal my jokes from kids in class and tv shows and YouTube videos and old cartoons

I yearn for a way to go back and redo, I yearn to have my foot in doors of timelines I'll never see. Times when we are together, where we love freely, loudly, we hold hands, and you aren't afraid to admit what we once had.