A Million Conversations

I have a million conversations

That never come to pass

I blame it on my cowardice

My excuse that life moves too fast

I have a million interactions

That will never come to fruition

Because I redirected my focus

To my hobbies or tuition

I have a million times I’ve held my tongue

And a million I’ve stopped my voice

I’ve always been so frustrated

And acted like I had no choice

And I’m not getting any braver

But every day my regret grows

I have a million thoughts running through my head

Yet only a handful I’ll ever show

So know that when I speak to you

And my words get jumbled or fall

I’ve got a million conversations to think of

And I can’t separate them all


I think about talking to people a lot. Perhaps it comes with just overthinking, I’m unsure. But I pass a lot of people, and I think about how so many people don’t believe they are loved, when people fall in love with strangers every day. I think about saying “I love you” to every stranger I’ve ever met sometimes because of it. However, I know that I couldn’t separate that conversation from the millions of others in my head.


Untouched Love

When I think of love, I do not think of lips

I do not think of touching hands

Or brushing knees

Or exploring lands

Just you and me

I think of my best friend’s voice

And how they apologized for its sound

I think of the girl I met at a slumber party

Who buried her feelings deep down

And yes, I still think of the boy

Who walked away with a piece of my heart

And yes, I still mourn its absence

But celebrate that it happened from the start

My love is universal and limitless and vast

Not just limited to kissing or hugging tight

My love is immaterial and light and bound

Only by my skin’s restrictive right

Although, I do regret my passion for others

Because it only comes when I see their tears

I don’t know if I find them beautiful

Or if it’s their sob story I need to hear

But I still hold that my love is great

Stronger than yours, if you will

Because my love requires no contact, no touch, no hold

To send my heart into a piccolo trill

I could be a million miles away

And still give you a part of my soul

I can still place my heart in your mind

Until our relationship turns pure gold

But even that spoils my adoration

Because gold is solid and can be touched

But I still believe that seeing your sad, sad smile

Would bring me such a lovely rush


I’m not sure about the origins of this poem; whether I wrote it as a late-night confession or a bittersweet ballad. I don’t even know if I truly hold to it, but its idea sounds right. Written about a month ago (goodness we’re already almost done with November), I still wonder who I was when I wrote it. In any case, a new poem, a new story, a new message to tell.


A Goblin Story

Once I met a goblin
Whose grin was made of slime
He bared his teeth at me and said,
“One day you’ll be mine!”
So I shaved off all my hair
I would never feel his claws through my locks
I cut sloppy lines across my arms
And wore mismatching socks
I grew angry cold and distant
At any attention, I snapped
Because men like the goblin disgust me
So I always felt a little trapped
I didn’t deserve a king
Back when I coveted my looks
So I withdrew from the real world
And buried myself in books
For the handsome princes were kind
And never broke a heart
The ones I knew were goblins inside
Yet seemed so sweet at the start
I came back to the goblin
Filled with disgust and pride
He just mirrored my smile
And said, “Now you’ll be my bride!”
I frowned and gestured to my head
He said he didn’t care
I showed him the scars on my skin
He said he had his share
I yelled and cried and screamed at him
To demonstrate my ugly inside
He gave me another grin
“I know what you’re trying to hide
“You’re sick of broken hearts
And the little ugly lies
For people are the ugliest
Who swarm around like flies
I don’t care what you look like
You’re beautiful to me
There’s a fire inside you
That desperately wants to be free
I can see that light and I want the flame
Even if it will burn
Even goblins have hearts
If you say yes, you’ll learn”
Once I married a goblin
Whose grin wasn’t made of slime
Because he was more beautiful than any prince
And I’m proud to call him mine


A poem I dug out of the digital basement of my laptop and figured it was sweet enough to share. I’m proud to have my lovely goblin, both the physical and spiritual ones I keep forefront in my mind. Unconventional love stories, anyone?