our phases of the moon

"Magic happens when the moon is this way. "

You forgot.

You still know for yourself, but you've forgotten that you shared that magic with me. That night. Everytime our eyes connected, yours became affixed to mine. 

Even when I smiled and looked away, you stared admired. 

"What do you wanna do? " 

"I dunno, what do you wanna do? "

Never had a childhood cliché inspired a day like that. 

We were kids at a grocery store. 



Tourists in Maui. 



Residents at Camp Half-Blood.



Lovers on a tree swing.

Too bad I get sick when I swing to long.

I wanted to savor that moment. Stupid head games.

Driving me home you asked me something. 

"What's your favorite phase of the moon? " 

I thought for a moment, then replied. 

"I like the moon when it's missing a small sliver,

when it isn't completely full. "

You gazed out the window, meeting eyes with the stars.

"I like the moon when it's the way it is tonight. 

Magic happens when the moon is this way. " 

I searched the sky to find a small sliver.

The moon

Hardly there at all, setting behind the bare hills

The curve of his smile lie in that shape:

Slightly curved, pursed together,

dimpled with stars on each side,

And hopeful.

Life has gone on, and that night has been forgotten. But when the stars come out, and I see the moon rise, I wait for your smile to set back into my memories, and patiently watch as magic embraces the city lights, and that longed for 'hope' lulls me to sleep.

Because even though you're gone, I still believe in your magic..

 and my phase combined with yours

still completes me.

~JQP

I once was a BRICK

I once was a brick              ha that's a dumb beginning

then i met a hammer              I chose a hammer because there's one in my kitchen

The hammer smashed my concrete being into smithereens           I didn't know smithereens was an actual word....

then the weather changed              okay, i'm being serious now--no more commentary

and the crisp winds blew me away

Then you, seeing the cloud of dust and the storm clouds spill into your city

Inhaled the scent of broken hearts and a fresh beginning into your senses

I avoided touching the walls of your body

You were too perfect to corrupt with the sting of dried tears

You kept breathing me in,

Even when the freshness of the storm had gone away

And you're still here

I touched your walls

But I won't let you touch mine

There are too many monsters behind mine

More than I want you to know

But you still try

You breathing me in has me reversing sublimation

But this time

I'm no longer a brick

Once Upon a Time, life was ordinary

I wake up
I feel okay
Of course that's the usual for me

Waking up has never been my thing

I get out of bed
I apply my mask in the mirror
Then prepare the smile I will wear today

Thats as good as its going to get

I'm running late--
As always
And as I walk through the thick judgement of entering after the almighty bell
Out of the corner of my eye..
I see them
Play by play

A boy laughs at a friend across the room
The friend returns the chuckle
The first friend signals to the other
"I'm so bored, I could hang myself"
Synching the rope above his head
Falling limp.








They kept laughing..


I wish I could laugh too

But a nostalgic silence collapses my lungs
My breath deceased
My heart excelling
my eyes dark.

I see the traffic slow and witness the stillness of the world the moment she repeated her mumbled phrase the third time.

"Jake hung himself.."


Her hands went straight to her eyes where life was so far gone not even a tear could escape. My reality froze as I sat numb in the back seat. My thoughts echoing in her voice and stinging my ears as actuality invades my mind.

no..

No.

NO!!

I remember.

I remember her meeting him

Her telling us all how he was the one

Her bringing him home for the holidays

I remember him meeting our family

Him telling us we we very immature

Him showing us how good we really were

Him accepting us singing to the radio-- without interrupting

I remember me and him 

Me camping with him

Me receiving help from him and discovering

Me singing on Thanksgiving, and him singing about the parking lot party

Me not remembering ever saying a proper goodbye

He was my brother.
I swear he was around my entire life.
But the two years we had him were not enough.
He took the liberty to leave..




I sit in my chair in class
Pale from the memories
Disconnected to any conversation
Eyes watering as I hear the echo's of their laughter

My imagination is set free once again

I see the trees
I see him numb
I see them question him
I see his lie presented flawlessly
I see the rope
I feel his shaky hands
I feel the bark beneath them
I feel the twine embrace my neck




He falls


And with him
Her heart
My tears
These words


And every ordinary day 
I once believed in

~JQP

It hasn't ever happened to me

confessionsconfessionsconfessionsconfessionsconfessionsconfession

I'm 17 years old and I've never fallen in love. I've never had a boy friend. I've never been kissed. And you know what?

 I really wish I didn't care. 

I've always been someone to tell you that I love being single and that having no strings attached is spectacular. But that's not how I feel. I want to be told I'm not awkward and that I'm beautiful. I want to feel like I actually exist. I want to be loved.

So maybe I need to learn to love myself--

Or maybe I do, and I just have the definition down wrong.

#SixBillionSecrets.com

~JQP

defected society robot

you've asked us to 'Please prove you are NOT a robot.', and i don't think i know how..

ya know? i'm not a robot- i mean, i was born and i'm not made of metal, 



but i feel like a robot..

SOCIETIES ROBOT.

why? well sirs, if you have been observing, the more i grow (or advance if you will) i become more pleasing to you, more functional to your  purpose. i learn and compute what you want me to and am put through experiments to show what i can do. 

of course i am not made as a robot



i have soft skin and long hair. i'm not perfectly made with symmetry or patience. 

but still i remain your robot.


how?? well let me explain-

i feel i am a robot related to a good friend:



WALL-E

i'm practically indestructible.

..on the outside. you see, i've never broken a bone even under the highest pressures. but i do rust. i have scrapes and scars and bruises as a result of too many experiments. i've been compressing everyone else's garbage for years and been keeping a cockroach as a best friend. i'm doing my best to make a difference, to help you who molded me to do what you've molded me to do. but i cant. i can't even find you what you actually want.. 

do you remember that time when you put me through your most genius experiment? and you gave me a chance to prove i could find what you wanted, the hope of actual life on this earth? not just garbage? and then you gave me something to throw me further off track than i've ever been.

love. 



i hope you know you're very awful. that is a douche bag move. i kinda failed your test after that. but i was also crushed. literally.



yes, you did bring me back to the shop and you put the pieces back together, but i lost my individuality. i became exactly as you'd programmed me to be. 

Now I finally followed your rules without becoming side tracked. I please you. I do what I'm supposed to do.



and it sucks.

I just hope that one day- I'll find someone to be my inspiration. That someone will bring me back. 

Someone to be the EVE to my WALL- E  and bring out the human in my defected society robot.



~JQP

you made me cry

I can still feel the tears running down my face, the cliche flood that comforts every broken heart.

I can still see your eyes and the pain I'd caused you.. I don't think I have ever been that cold  before.

I can't see past the looped video of you walking away.. I saw the tears in your heart, yet, in your eyes- there was no trace of any feeling at all.

You probably think you know who I'm talking about, but it's been months since this day.. and it wasn't a heartbreak in a romance novel. Instead, a heartbreak like Junie B. Jones finding out her teacher's name wasn't just Mrs.. Its the heartbreak you feel when Watson and Sherlock lose each other when losing themselves. The heartbreak of no one caring when you left.. my heartbreak was her walking away, thinking I couldn't care less..

When they told you to leave, without saying a word, you felt the loathing. But know that whoever ever it was, and however much they presumably hated you.. They cried when you walked away.

Not with tears, no- for that would give them away. No, they cried in movement. In every thought they had of you. Every memory you'd let them live with you.. Every secret you'd trusted them with. No matter the pain you caused and the hate you stoked, the one you left- that friend that no longer cared, no longer loved.. their tears linger in every step they take.

Thinking of you or not, you made me cry.. and the tears never stopped.

~JQP

colorblind artist

When I was little

I had a favorite crayon

It was a blue kind of color

But its name sounded like the meat my dad grilled

Sirloin. (it was cerulean)

Thats mostly why I liked it

I colored all my pictures with this crayon

And in my eyes

Every picture was beautiful

As I grew older

I saw what everyone else was coloring with

I wanted to be like them

They were praised for their colorful pictures

And so I began to use my entire box of crayons

I didn't like my pictures much.

They were never as good as Andrew's 

And everyone would laugh when they saw me try

I gave up using my entire box of crayons.

"Dear, why aren't you coloring your pictures for school"

"I don't like coloring", I would reply

I didn't want to be chastised again.

Instead I only colored when I could do so without others around

The nights I colored in secret

Alone

They changed my eyes

7 colors molded to one

Transforming into grays

Blacks

Whites

I'd wake up to a shadowed dusk

And fell asleep to the lifeless sunrise

When I saw the colorful drawings I once envied--

I was no longer jealous

Their colors had trimmed down to none

Maybe they'd transformed like me

Or maybe I just couldn't see..

I still hid in the dark.

But then you came along.

You with the bright smile

And the messy hair

You with the welcoming arms

You somehow sorted through my mess and found my hidden one-colored canvases

You told me they were beautiful.

I'm not sure why

But I believed you.

And somehow

You got me to color again

I drew and colored and scribbled

Everything I produced; a monotonous gray in my eyes

But you saw the color I thought didn't exist

I felt like all my canvases were useless scribbles

But you gave every line

Every curve

Every bend

Meaning

One day you let me see your art

You told me they weren't much to look at

Yet

I couldn't take my eyes of them

There was one picture in particular

Outlying your collected passions

One, that immediately drew me in

I saw something

A glint of childhood

A touch of comfort

A vision of every tattered page

And approval

It was a blue kind of color

The smell of steak and feel of laughter invaded my senses

A smile touched my lips as the word formed mid intake of my breath

You whispered in my ear

And took me in your arms

And you saw it happen

So this is for you

The one who inspired the colorblind artist to once again

See blue

~JQP