Green Button

I make up reasons
to dial his number,
to say that I'm sorry,
or just to say goodbye,
so I can justify
this stupid decision
to myself once I've hung up
and thought it through.
I'll claim good intentions,
when really,
I just wanted to feel
close, wanted, and loved again.
I have no good intentions,
just selfish wishes
to rewind the time
for a few minutes.
Truth is,
I don't want to go back,
I don't want to restart,
I just want to feel that way
one more time.
And there's nothing in the world
that can make that okay,
and nothing I can tell myself
to ease my conscience.
So before I pick up the phone
and press that Green button
I think of what I'm doing
and who I'm doing it to.

I put the phone on the cradle,
and step away.

Hollywood and Harlequin

This poem is from an old poetry book I had at the beginning of high school. It shows a very different style than what I write in now, which I find very interesting! Let me know what you think of the 14/15 year old Lena's poetry! 


Hopeless romantic idiocies rage and release,
And automatic responses seem so complex,
and when the things you love slip away,
what does love become?
Harlequin fiction tied with a bow?
Desire and circumstance, bundled? --I'll pass.
Love conquers all?
Then why does it fail more times than not?
When Cinderella thinks she can have her prince,
Failure is inevitable, but no one sees.
When greed pushes away all good intent,
who is there to forgive and forget?
When did love become plastic? drastic? fantastic?
What ever happened to truth?
When you can love someone through obligation,
what becomes of your definition of love?
When love is supposed to be unconditional,
what happens when it's unrequited instead?
How much am I paying for this so-called luxury?
When the price of real love became to high,
we decided to stop paying.
Lust and emptiness walk hand in hand,
down death row they lead.
In this world of one-night-stands,
hooking up, rather than commitment,
and obligated love that is supposed to complete,
what can I trust?

It's the question of the century.

Pearls to the Swine

This is a poem I wrote almost a year ago. I wanted to post it not because it reflects where I'm at right now, but because it reminds me of where I was. Enjoy. 


It's not that I don't listen, 
Or that I don't respect what you have to say, 
It's just that I'm so set in my ways,
Predisposed to disobey, 
When obedience would save me so much heart ache. 
And it's not that I don't seek your voice, 
Because all I want is to hear you, 
It's just that I've been lied to for so long, 
That I often forget what the truth sounds like. 
Beaten back, left for dead, sink or swim, 
I've lived, fighting to find you, 
And now that I have, I feel more lost and before. 
I can talk about the darkest things I've seen, 
With a perfectly straight face, 
I can pretend to be vulnerable, 
When the walls are only getting higher. 
Yet I can praise you for it all, 
Even when I feel like walking away. 
And at the end of the day, 
When I can hear you over everything else, 
I realize that all this time, 
I've been throwing my pearls to the swine. 
You deserve better than that, 
Much, much better. 

Lite-Brite

Carefully I spoke
as if my words
were like weapons,
each syllable acting
as a gun or a knife,
until I quietly resolved
to remain silent.
Hurting you,
would be unthinkable,
unforgivable,
and my little heart,
and my sad eyes,
couldn't bear to see it.
I wish so much
to speak to you
words of love,
and unshakeable truth,
but with depravity
slipping down my tongue,
and falling from my lips,
I fail.

Oh how I wish,
that all my words were bright.

Someone Else's Prayer (3)

Jesus,

I am sure of nothing

but this: 

The fact that I am desperate

for more of your truth, 

more of your Word, 

more of all that you are. 

I need nothing but to surrender 

to your will and your ways,

But my feet hesitate, 

and my hands slip, 

over and over. 

It seems the only thing 

I never fail at, 

is failing. 

But Jesus, 

I see your faithfulness, 

as a promise, as a truth, 

and I will believe. 

Though I hesitate, fall, and fail, 

I will believe. 

Someone Else's Prayer (2)

Jesus, I invite you
to create Your chaos,
to reek Your havoc,
until all I can do is submit.
And from the very depths
of this weary and broken heart,
I ask you to push me into the fire,
knowing You mean to refine.
Because Jesus, until now
the only person I've been trusting is me,
the only person I've been believing is me,
and the only person I've been seeking
is me.
And in this blindness,
I can see nothing else properly
so show me Your mighty hand,
teach me the ways of Your will,
and help me to praise You
for the blessings that are often unseen.
Shake me of what I think I know,
and show me what to run after.
Oh Jesus, I invite you.
I invite you.

White Lies

I'm a liar of the worst variety,
deceiving with my masked eyes,
manipulating with my carefully placed words.
My mission is to fool you.

With every gaze I break,
I'm force-feeding you my apathy
so my elaborate scheme can hold some merit.
But honestly, I don't believe it myself.

The truth is in the silent prayers
that I rush up to heaven,
asking for the strength to push you away.

The truth is in the punishment
I inflict on my myself
for failing to let you go completely.

The truth is in the simple fact
that without my little white lies,
I'd have us right back where we were.

The truth is in the knowledge
that some day soon
I'll know these tactics were necessary.

I'm sorry, but we're better off this way.