Poems

Driving Through every state 

Just to see you

For once I've been able to see

The colors of the world 

The trees are green 

The sky is blue 

The world was so Dull

Until I met you.

Always is such a complicated thing,

It could be used as “I will always love you.”

Or it could be used as “You can always count on me.”

Always is a tricky thing,

It comes up too often and you can never quite tell if it’s true.

That’s why I don’t trust it.

Always is an assumption.

It is used as a catch all to avoid guilt.

It is an empty promise.

Always is an end.

How can one trust an always? 

The answer is, you can’t.

“I will always love you” is used before a divorce.

“You can always count on me” is used at the end of a friendship. 

Always can be a lie.

Always promises something it cannot give.

It promises love, but instead gives pain.

It promises hope, but instead gives disappointment.

It promises joy, but instead gives sadness.

It tries to prove that we are not alone, 

But at the end, always is the only thing we can count on.

You may ask, “How do express myself without always?”

Great question, you can’t

You have to risk the always.

Always may be an empty promise,

But it might not

Always may be avoiding guilt,

But it might not.

Always may give you pain,

But it might not.

Always may give you hope, joy, and love.

Always will always be a risk.

The question truly is, do you trust what’s behind the always?

Do you trust the person who says, “I will always love you”?

Do you trust those who say, “You can always count on me”?

Because if you do, then always is the greatest gift you can receive.

Spring-- a time for new beginnings

For most, spring is a time to grow,

To evaluate your life and do something different.

A time to try new things,

A time for love,

A time for life, 

A time when anything is possible. 

But for some, spring is a reminder.

Of time lost,

Of love spent,

Of the rut you just can’t seem to escape. 

Void of any possibility of differences,

With no chance for something new.

For some, spring is left unsprung.

For those who live that way,

Who can’t escape their past,

Can’t escape their hurt,

Can’t seem to find their place,

For those who feel they don’t matter. 

Spring is a reminder.

Of the things they would have, could have, should have done. 

Of the life they would have, could have, should have led.

Of the person they would have, could have, should have been.

Of a life lived with spring unsprung.

Do you live a life of new beginnings?

Or do you hold yourself back?

Do you let yourself live?

Or do you constantly keep yourself grasping at your 

Would have

Could have

Should have

Do you live a life with spring unsprung?

Why do people read?

Is it for enjoyment, 

For work, 

For school?

For me, I read to be free.

Life is filled with so much uncertainty, and reading is my gate to freedom.

When I read, I am able to escape life, even for just a little while. 

My mind breaks free of the prison of duty and obligations,

And it swims in the ocean of opportunity. 

I lose myself in a whole new world of possibilities.

I let myself sink into a world where anything imagined is achievable.

I drown in the river of capability. 

My mind bathes in the tub of new chances,

Chances to be who I want to be.

Reading is my freedom.

Freedom from disappointment

Freedom from obligations

Freedom from sadness

When I read I can be anything I want to be,

And do anything I want to do.

I have freedom and control of my mind,

And it gives me power.

Power to pursue what I want.

Power to speak up.

Power to work hard to accomplish things.

Power to change.

Reading is the first step to becoming who I want to be. 

I have become absorbed in my own potential,

And obsessed with seeing the fabrication of my own reality.

To get lost in the haze of fiction, grappling at the line of reality.

That is why I read.

Hey Dad,

It's been a while, hasn’t it?

Starting this off with “Dear Dad,” seems pointless;

It’s not like you can actually read this.

I want you to know,

I miss you every day.

I hope you’re doing well in the afterlife.

Children carry on the legacies their parents leave.

You were a good dad and an even better person to this world.

You had such a kind heart.

I know I can't protect everyone,

But I can protect the ones I love.

I promise to look after and protect my family the same way you did.

I want to raise my future kids the same way you raised me.

You deserve a son to be proud of,

And I'm the only son you have.

I want to make an impact on the world.

I want to make it better.

I get told that I remind people of you.

I wish you were here to see your son grow.

I wish you were home where your loved ones are.

I wish I could hear your voice one last time.

I know we will see each other again.

I'll talk to you again soon.

-J

Note: The words that I used in this poem are lines from letters I wrote to my father after he died when I was 17 in 2022. 

Step one: Take a minute to breathe. 

Inhale and exhale, blue skies in and every worry you’ve ever had out, 

Until you feel completely relaxed. 

Try to forget that your homework assignment 

in English is due in five minutes or 

That you left your dinner in the microwave again. 

Step two: pick up new healthy hobbies 

Find new hobbies to channel all your energy into, both good and bad. 

Start by cleaning your room or listening to that 

playlist you never 

listened too but refused to get rid of anyway. 

Start by thinking about yourself first instead 

of every Facebook post and internet video that 

starts the exact way this poem does. 

There is no shortcut to anxiety and there is no 

wrong in going through the motions of being human. 

Since when do my anxious leg shakes or pen 

clicks define as a problem? 

Who was the monster that stole the butterflies 

from my stomach and put them in a glass 

jar labeled “dysfunctional”? 

There is beauty in being nervous, the kind of beauty hiding in excited words Of a presenting poet, or 

the strands of hair played with by every person 

getting ready for a first date. 

The kind of beauty that might shake the 

memory of the test answer from your mind, 

but will always be there when you look at them for the first time. 

Don’t let anyone tell you that it isn’t normal 

to be anxious, I promise you that it is. 

I promise that your butterflies are not creatures 

of dysfunction, rather additions of stronger character. Step Three: Take One Last Breath.

Breathe in and out but this time, breathe only for yourself. Breathe for the fact that it is not your job to 

conform your life to someone else’s standards. Shatter the glass jar encapsulating you from the inside, and build a fence instead. 

Put up picketts lined with the affirmation that every part of your anxiety is beautiful, 

Every part of you is beautiful. 

And every other standard is 

just an excuse to take away the character 

you never deserve to lose.

There is a way you can look in the mirror and feel 

affection for the reflection in front of you. 

There is a way to speak with your own tongue and like it More than the one they replaced it with. 

You will not sever my words before they are formed, 

Will not cut my sentences in half to replace my meaning with yours. 

My heart is not your graveyard. 

Your feelings will not dwell in my empty spaces, buried by dirt apologies And fragments of stone with your name. 

I am not yours to critique. 

Your thoughts won’t hang on to me like ankle weights 

Because my body won’t be changed for you. 

I won’t buy that dress that fit “like it should” 

but I will eat I want from the snack aisle 

with the sweatpants that held me more times than you ever did. I won’t look at myself and see me clothed in the stigmas You latched to every part of me. 

Instead I will look at myself and see the best 

bed hair I have ever had. 

I was never yours for the changing. 

I wished for comfort when you gave me cloth excuses. I wished for love before you ever gave it to yourself first.