Candyecane2002• Show poetry

My name is Shaina. I don't get on here much anymore. A lot of this stuff is old, dark feelings that I used to have. Now, for the most part, I am very happy with my life. I don't post a lot of my poetry on here anymore, but when I do, you can tell the difference. I have the best boyfriend in the world, finally. I mean, he's the real deal. I don't wanna see my life without him. Well, as I said, most of these poems and stories are old feelings, but still feelings that I once felt. I hope you enjoy them. Comment. <3 Shanz

*I like a lot of different music....


Friends ask me how I feel and I lie convincingly 'Cause I don't want to reveal the fact that I'm suffering So I wear my disguise 'til I go home at night And turn down all the lights and then I break down and cry.

I'm happy yet I'm sad. It's like I have everything yet I'm missing something. I just can't seem to put my finger on it. I can't seem to smile, most of the time I just want to cry. Everyday I try but I get nowhere. I'm on the verge of falling. I'm holding on the edge, I can't let go and for some reason I have no control.

Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12

An anxious heart weighs a man down, but a kind word cheers him up. Proverbs 12:25

A cheerful look brings joy to the heart, and good news gives health to the bones. Proverbs 15:30

FINALLY GRADUATING! 08


This is STILL my favorite poem of all time.

Spoons- Caroline Harvey

When they found your body... we s c a t t e r e d. I left New York with forty seven bucks in my boot. The _same boots_ I wear when I am forced to fight. The _same bad ass boots_ I'll be wearing when they bury me, cause all bitches go into heaven but we gotta bust down doors to get inside.

The day I found out you wear dead I tattooed the word 'move' on my wrist. I wanted to get 'stay'... but I figured since you were already gone, it wouldn't do me much good so I got 'move'.

You see, we were addicts, with needles locked and loaded. Arms like bullets jammed in the barrel and backfiring, backfiring, backfiring.

BANG! I would slip into sobriety, try to eat, but the spoon's burnt black from batches of heroin, bent like question marks, asking me... "what can you stomach today?"

September 21st, 1994
Your beautiful, boy body had become a brown haired pile of bones and teeth. The men who murdered you were users I used to... use with. Men I kissed and called friend. But I learned early, that when you're hungry for a drug, friend is just some shit you say so someone will feed you. They were blind and wreckless for another taste so they killed you for a fix... dumped you somewhere ugly... figured nobody would find out, but your body remained like a careless fingerprint left as the quiet indictment of our broken lives that maybe I should have tattooed 'stay' cause I stayed quiet for years.

The same kind of quiet you find when there's a secret held between two bodies, pressed together like spoons, bent like question marks, asking... "is this alright?"

How long does it take for a body to decompose?

The day they printed your obituary, I \changed my name\ and *never* said yours outloud again. You are the _secret_ \I have worn instead of skin\. *You are the reason* I still need my boots cause I've kicked habits bad enough to kill most people, but I can't kick this memory and _until then_ I figure it's not gonna do me much good to \stay\... so I just \move\.