Jordan released her debut poetry collection, battle scars, at age 19 after maintaining a Wordpress poetry blog for a year. She currently attends Penn State University where she is attempting a degree in Biomedical and Mechanical engineering and writes for their school newspaper. Her biggest writing accomplishment would undeniably have to be her piece on Jesse McCartney because it has (hopefully) set her one step closer to meeting Justin Bieber. puppet stringsthere's an aching in my chest, a pain that only dulls when i known you're within reach and one swift tug is all it would take to pull you back in place by my side where i feel you belong. but now you've gone and done what i could never do and severed the last of the flimsy strings that still connected me to you. i am uncomfortable with this empty space and the freedom of my feet no longer tied together by the string that bound us in place. safety netyou built a net behind your lies to prevent yourself from hurting too much when the fall inevitably came. a safety-net you called it, an ability to always bounce back and quickly i've watched you fall and bounce back so many times now i wonder what would happen if you fell without a net and took the time to rebuild yourself brand new. more stable than the you that came crashing down. dangerously comfortableyou are comfortable to me and my mind a safe place to fall into and think, about what could've been our future and what might have been our past. you are comfortable and that is dangerous because although i know there is no future for us i can not stop thinking about you and what could've been had you followed me closely that desperate night or if i had found enough courage to say what i might want you to say – please stay. instead you are just comfortable, a place for my thoughts to go and rest for a while when i'd rather not think about something that might help my future without you. sunrisei get lost in the trees as they blur
before my tear stained eyes. tiny water droplets slide down my rosy cheeks, painting the skyline with the colors of my palette blues, greens, reds and oranges wash across my vision and bathe my body in their glow. there's a burning in my throat a desire to release and tread on softer ground, to take in the frigid breathes the cumulus clouds disperse and send them deep into my gasping lungs, revitalizing them within my weathered body. these heavy strokes, so stark against what was once a blank canvas are difficult to maintain, at some point, i know, these colors will run dry. but in the clearing up ahead, i see, delicate purples and baby pinks cascading through the branches, catching glimmers of the bouncing light and painting the naked sky with the colors of a sunrise. these memories are not of the heavy breaths, but in deep lulls of the sanctity found in a calming season, appreciating the fallen leaves, crunching underneath the trampled soil we run.
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