Grief Written

My grandmother sold her typewriter and I wonder where it's gone And if it's being written on. The letters on the keys had begun to fade, But they missed the firm hand of my grandmother, And maybe the lovely words that she pressed into the page. And the keyboard on the computer doesn't click the same way, The blinking cursor on the page impatiently urging you on, While the typewriter calmly held your hand until you were ready to speak. Writing  shouldn't be so easy, You should feel the impact of each letter as you type it. It should be as messy as the XXX placed over words, Hastily crossed out, Or the crumbled page in the corner with fresh ink. Mistakes can't be erased, Mistakes should make you start over. But sometimes mistakes are the friends that have fallen away, the ones you know so well, but simply acknowledge with a hesitant wave of your fingers on the street. Fingers shoved quickly back into pockets before they reach

happy 20th to me 1. The words "I love you" means different things to different people. 2. Forever isn't as long as some people would like to believe. 3. Your body doesn't belong to anyone but yourself. 4. Broken hearts heal, they hurt like hell while doing it, but they heal. 5. Home isn't always a place but sometimes a person. 6. Times changes everything. 7. Everybody moves on. 8. Loving yourself is okay. 9. Putting yourself first is okay. 10. Saying no is okay. 11. You can only complete yourself. 12. Sometimes people aren't who you think they are. 13. Sometimes you feel like someone will never love you in that way again, but you realize that maybe that way wasn't good anyway. 14. It's okay to let people go. 15. I am allowed to make mistakes. 16. Life gets better 17. My heart can be filled in so many ways 18. I love poetry but sometimes it doesn't love me 19. Promises get broken 20. Love is real

 Day 28 Like a living thing the wall seemed to grow and evolve. It began with a single picture taped to the wall next to her bed, The first sign of life. Then slowly it began accumulating more things; Pictures, letters, notes, wrappers. As it grew it gained a name, "The Happy Wall." It's pure existence was simply to make the girl happy. It was the first thing she saw every morning. It transferred from wall to wall, hosue to house, state to state. Then suddenly it started to disolve, devolve. If something didn't make her happy anymore, off it came. The problem being, very little made her happy anymore, So down things came with no new things to replace them. Gaps of white staring at her as she woke up every morning. The boy knew all of this, He knew that the wall was a good indicator of your status in her life. He watched carefully everyday, and to his relief their picture always stood. But every night he made her cry the tape seemed to loosen. On

Stumbling, Over my feet and my words. There's a boy dancing with me and smiling but I'm looking over his shoulder, He's not there. I'm not here. The world is spinning and so am I, Of course I want someone who doesn't want me. It's been that way for awhile. Because caring is scary, Having someone want you is scary, And maybe I'll be alone. Just a ghost trying to avoid the creaks in the floorboards when I slip out of beds, I'll hide myself in closets and behind doors trying not to be seen. Don't look at me, You'll see right though me.