I'm Jealous

Pretty 

by Jewel 

There is a pretty girl 

on the 

Face 

of the magazine 

And 

all I see 

are my dirty 

hands 

turning the page 

I'm so jealous of really short poems like this. They say so much by saying so little. One-liners have a place in my heart. It's all about the simplicity of it. And it's so much more powerful because it's all by itself.

P.S. 

by Jewel 

I wrote those nice 

poems only because 

the honest ones 

would frighten you 

It's just really good, isn't it? I love it because you can interpret it any way you want. It's specific and vague at the same time.

Is it too much to ask?

Just a few things I've really been wanting lately.

How cute is this right now?

Also, we can't forget about my boy Josh. I mean how good is he looking in this picture? Too good, is the correct answer.

Look at ME.

Look at me like you look at her. 

Think of me like you think of her.

Call me back as fast as you call her back.

Walk with me like you walk with her.

Read by me like you read by her.

Be nervous to see me like you're nervous to see her.

Spend every minute with me like you spend every minute with her.

Trust me like you trust her.

Love me back like you love her back. 

Come on in.

I can't decide if I want you in my dreams or not. It's so tempting to let you stay for just one night.

I'm getting weaker every hour. Soon enough my bones will break from the constant pressure.

Should I give in and let you stay? Or do what's best for me and my bones and forget you ever came? I know what I want to do, but what am I supposed to do? Who even does what they're supposed to do these days? Forget it. 

You're in my head and I'm tired of trying to force you out. Come on in, stay awhile.

InSaNiTy

I wish my bones weren't so smart. Why do they have to be right every time?

They whispered the other day to let go. I'll DIE before I let go. Nothing my bones will ever say can convince me to let go. I'm holding on even if it drives me to insanity. I don't have the heart to let go.

My bones strangle me. They're stubborn. I'm stubborn.

They tell me it'll be better once I let go, but what if I don't want things to be better?
What if I'd rather wallow in self pity? But my bones don't get that.
They think they know me, but how can they when I don't even know myself?

Is this funny or what?

"Life sucks, and then you die."

Every day we have to same routine.
We go to school to get "smart."
We go to work so we can get money to afford a good college.
There we get "smarter" to help us find a mediocre job so we can get more money to live a cushioned life.
And every day after that is the same thing: work, come home, sleep.
We spend 60% of our lives working so we can retire when we're 70 and have our own children put us in an old folks home.
 
So why do we worry so much if one day we'll all be dead?