A Letter From The Crazy One

I have often been referred to,
By friends, enemies and the like,
As The Crazy One.
I’m the one who can jump to the worst conclusion so fast
I’d win the gold in the Olympic event.
The one who let’s fear dictate her present,
And is ruled by the horrors of her past.
The one who pushes away all the wrong people,
Yet clings to the words of those who have hurt me.
I believed when they told me
I’m broken.
But please,
Take a minute to live inside my head
And try to understand how I feel.
Maybe then you can see the reason behind my insanity
And be able to forgive my insecurities.
Yes, I am crazy,
But it stems from genuine feelings,
A desire to hold you near,
And a deep seeded fear that you will leave me because
I am The Crazy One.
So I’m sorry that I’m a liability,
But believe me when I say
I’m only crazy because
I care.

Everyone’s Girl

Every story has a leading lady-
A fearless heroine,
A clever femme fatale.
But this one has none.
Just a girl with a dream,
But too many cares to ever be free.
Constantly cast aside
But at the ready when someone is in need.
The sinner among the saints
For their entertainment.
A quick mind and a steady wit,
She’s the first to produce a laugh and fall
For the sake of it.
She’s his go to for a quick stretch,
His favorite companion in the dark.
But as he sleeps,
She dreams about being drawn out into the light.
The life of her own party,
She’s left out when the celebration rolls around.
So she sits alone and waits for the day
Someone will finally say,
“That’s my girl.”

The Issue With Billie

I saw him in CVS one day and knew immediately that
He needed me.
His eyes called to me like a lonely corpse
In an unmarked grave.
I paid far less than he was worth.
I listened to him speak in the arena of
My private Hell
As he recited a gospel of hope and despair so true
I nearly bled.
As he went on,
it was as if he was at my side
Showing me salvation can be had.
I hugged him so tight that the pages folded and bent
Like the edges of my heart.
His words dripped down from
My tears.
Crumbled in a ball on the floor,
these pages made me realize
It wasn’t just me,