I'm trying my best as it is

I'm Kristen and it's nice to have met you.

what knowing
comes with a
lack of 
speaking?
i’m looking
to other things
as a source of
enjoyment now
because whatever
this was is no
longer and though
I know it,
I don’t

where did things go
wrong?
we just made
up before the break
and all was well
but after a week
of being home
i come back to
find you distant

i’m not naïve
and for you to
think that I don’t
know what’s
happening is
foolish

I know the signs
when i see them

I hate that I have
to go out of my
way to talk to you,
to get answers that
won’t be explained
unless I ask and
I feel that I’m
bothersome because
i do so

my confidence wasn’t
the best when this started
and it hasn’t been any
better since it happened

and though we were
finally able to talk
there’s still no surety.
i know
you have some
sort of thing with
her
but at the same time
i don’t

we never officially
ended whatever
we had and you
left it open
when you didn’t give
a definitive answer

i may seem indifferent
and somedays I am
but it’s usually a front
because i wouldn’t be
writing this if i wasn’t
feeling something

i just want an
answer that is
absolute and
i know i’ll never
get it because
i’m too scared of
confrontation and
your reaction to
my concerns

i want closure but
that’s asking for a lot
in something that had
no importance to you
in the first place

summer

summer echoes
my name
longing for company
that only comes
in the few months

time is endless
and day never ceases
to exist for when
night comes
nothing stops
in a city that is
constantly
illuminated by
lights
igniting life in
moments that
were once considered
tranquil

the call of summer
and her abounding
warmth linger on
my skin
an indication of
her constant
presence that I
find refuge in

it is in these days
that searching for
answers become
clear and that
with summer
her company is
endless

i feel less alone when it’s summer

it’s sort of
kind of
frustrating
thinking about
certain types
of people in
any particular
way because
all these people,
or really any type
of person,
have ever done
to contribute
towards anything
was never with
sincerity
but rather
with the intent
of a personal
interest and I
should know this
because i’m
guilty of it
all

a lack of 
response
gives insight
into what
i can no longer
display

i have one
feeling of absolute
regret and 
another feeling
of complacency

where each lies
and with what
circumstance
is interchangeable

what satisfaction
comes with
knowing that
i have no desire
for change
even when it hurts



James (a.k.a. the person I credit this poem to because of his selfish personality)

it’s human inevitability
that people tend
to be disrespectful.
you would think that
coming to an
agreement
should mean
something, but when
people have no
regard for others
and their feelings,
an agreement is
nothing but useless
words said in
manipulation for the
betterment of one.

as friends, you would
think that being courteous
to one another is
expected, you would
think that your given
word should carry a
promise
but it doesn’t,
it didn’t,
it never has.

There wasn’t much to
expect besides
being discreet and
showing some decency
yet you’ve done everything
but.

it’s obviously too much
to ask to be
a considerate person
these days
and I should have known,
but I’m a sucker
for getting used

if there’s one lesson
to learn today
it’s that people have
no respect for one
another and that I
have none for
myself.

the thought
of physical intimacy
excites me
once again
feeling the caresses
that I have missed
but to what extent
shall I go?
will I let
my body decide
and engage
in something with
no meaning between
either person
or let my feelings
be the voice of reason
behind my
second guessing
knowing that waiting
will be worth it?

decisions to make but
nowhere to go:
I want both

vague

I have this distinct feeling
of some sort of
emotion, all emotions, an emotion
yet it’s hard to
pinpoint
because there’s
no feeling
of it all being
concrete
and what should
this dictate?
I have felt something
a something
I know that I
have felt and
with it an
uncertainty
behind every
thought process
and motive
because this feeling
that I feel is everything
but it’s something
even more or even less
than what I can
describe,
but I can’t specify

black and white

I thought I had
something to write
down. i don’t.
the brain sees what
it knows it can
comprehend
and tonight
little understanding
was the only connection
between my thoughts
and insight

there’s an edge
to waiting in
anticipation for
contact of some
sort whether it
be visual or
in hope of
something physical

i see you and
i convince myself
that perhaps you
see me too

it’s easy to remember
your face captured
and instilled,
a memory of
playing beer pong
while getting drunk
on cheap wine.

i couldn’t get your
name for the longest
time, but when i finally
remembered,
i never forgot.

we talked, chatted
and i remember
saying “you won’t
know who I am when
you’re sober”
. even when you denied
it i knew better than
to believe. you told
me the same,
i promised I wouldn’t,
I still haven’t

numerous times
we walk by each
other but i’m too
shy to say something
as it’s been weeks
since we met,
but each time
i get a little more daring
trying to smile at you
in hope of you noticing
but still no luck
though in the back of
my head i get the feeling
you at least recognize me
in some way,
so i’ll hold on to that

maybe in another drunk
adventure we’ll cross paths
once more and this time
we’ll talk because
liquid courage
and friendliness go
hand in hand in our
predicament.
but this time i hope
that you or i remember
each other well enough
to say
hello to one another
sober 

impressionable:
sorely underdone
and singularly leveled,
a lack of complexity,
living without color,
genuinely uninteresting.
this is the impression
you cast upon me
from the sounds of silence,
us dwelling on a hill
under the backdrop of
an illuminating sky.
a moment of which
I have never felt so
insulted of my character
and being. perhaps seconds
passed without an utter of a
word and you dare to
call me boring
your flippant use of “boring” as
an excuse to talk
when it’s you who so
implied that words must
be said in order to fill a void
of what you could not appreciate.

irony

it takes shutters
to block out
the sun
but peaking 
through cracks
are little rays
of light that
so inconveniently
place themselves
upon you
when all that was
wanted was a
chance to learn
that positivity came
from the self
and not symbolism
that words
display