The Last Page

There's a locked box sitting in my closet.

It's decorated with pictures of us

and all the people we've ever

wanted to be. Written in scratchy

letters and tear stained ink

are your very best quotes.


As much as I love that box itself

I think you should know what

is dying inside the belly of

that beautiful beast. All the

nicknames unwhispered

between the protection of

night and warm sheets

gone unsaid -


unheard


for so long.


The promises unkept

and shattered dreams.

Scenarios and lyrics

you recited in my dreams

as comfort are lingering -

caught in silky

spider webs.


Guitar picks and letters, pencil drawings and

a colorful ring. And at the very bottom

of that sad, lonely box, folded sweetly,

tucked safely beneath everything

else my soul weeps. Withering

away as it promises to


be better


in its next life.

Ragged Hands of Winter

You are beautiful

do not give that away to

age, change, or harsh words.

Be happy

if you can

while you can -

or you will parish alone,

.....unknown,

.        .       .forgotten...

Strange Beauty

Snow angels sing songs

of hope and love, memories

and holidays that won't be

the same now

Time Has Finally Caught up to Us

Thank you for all of your love, support, dedication and readership here over the years, but it is time for me to share some news with you. I will no longer be updating this blog, posts that have been scheduled for future dates will post as intended at one point or another, but I will not be writing anything new for this home. For new works please give me some love on www.patreon.com/Learningtofly and for more news, merchandise and access to the collections I have completed over the years please visit my brand new website (With a blog!) at www,sincerelybluejay.com Once again I love you for being here with me, and I hope that you are able to continue reading my work elsewhere.

Love Always
Madison Rene'

Time for a New Pillow

Changing just one piece of your routine or adding an extra dash of color is all you really need to fall in love with yourself all over again. 

Sleeplessly

It's not that we needed another


sunrise -


simply that we were waiting

on Dawn


for all the wrong reasons.

Remembering one August

"How do you always do that?" I asked out of the blue one night.

"What?" you asked in pure confusion. "Make me laugh when I

don't even want to breathe." I explained simply.


"That's easy," you smiled, "All you do is care for someone

with all your heart." Your face went completely blank for a moment

and both of our worlds were silent in the stillness

unlike ever before.


I sighed playfully, "Be careful. If you keep talking like that

people will think you're in love." You laughed quietly

as if only to yourself, "I am," you answered.

Again there was silence.


"Lucky person," I whispered, trying not to show my pain.

"Yes," you smiled, "Yes, you are."


But I hate that there were so many miles between us at that moment,

because if you had been with me I would have hugged you and

let those words I swore I'd never say flood from my lips until both of us

were laughing so much that we lay there crying in each others arms

while grinning from ear-to-ear. If only you had been closer I would have

kissed you and been perfectly fine with the stillness as it attempted

to swallow us whole thinking that the world would carry on just fine

without us for a while. Even now, all this time later, I still

believe that is the most beautiful thing you have ever said:


"It's easy. All you do is care about someone with all your heart"
    

Avarice

Our adventure started in 2011

with paper, pen, and an open mind

there were so many possibilities

and we started over again and again.


We had the world at our fingers

and anything we'd ever be able

to need. So we set off playing with

color that aroused too much emotion

and lines too bold to fade along

side stories too deep to write.


Time went by swiftly each draft

improving just a touch and the

ink blurred perfectly with the skin

and bloodied sweat that created

our prize winning formula.


Somehow we ended up here,

three years and a million pages

later with a work of Avarice as

the only thing we could proudly

display for the world to see.


So if these words find their way

to you, I just want you to know

that the beauty we became, the

artistry we created, and the way

we moved at every little bump in

the road shaped us. Molded us.


Resurrected us.


In a loving


ink drawing.

Forgotten Gods

When we met you were a poet

therefore I am immortal.


You etched me out

in stanzas and poured

the starlight from

my smile into your lines. My

laughter got recorded in the

blank spaces between words

while the love I had for you

inspired your own raw

recollections of our

beautifully fragmented

conversations.


Now you've journeyed off

to another land where

my eyes pierce through

the icicles of your heart

and you've buried your

emotions alive

in an endless

field of

bluebells.


You may not

be here anymore,

your footprints were

swept away by ocean tides

and sand crabs but

we both know

you were.

And that's

enough for

me.


I am immortal

because I was

loved by a poet.


I guess you

are too

even if you

have been

forgotten

here.

Ranting to Polaris

Someday the world will know our names

in ways you've never imagined and your story

will be written on me the way my portrait has

been painted atop of your perfect chest in

magenta lipstick. There will come a day

when you are just as important as

Jackson Pollack or Micheal Jackson.


(In your own line of work that is.)


I promise you my ghost will leave you alone

just as soon as you remember to call when you

say you will. Because really I've never met

anyone who makes a better you than you ,

so that means that by default the next century

cannot possibly pass without all the world

saying your name at least once in their lifetimes

as they honor your greatest work of all time


(me)


the way they've already done with mine


(you). P.S. I am leaving tonight

and I will see you as soon

as humanly possible -


so long as you're still

up for leading my way. 

The Importance of Complete Knowledge

To know you like

your eyes know color

and a tongue knows

the taste of your

favorite foods.


To understand you

the way you understand

reading or the way

your mind understands

language at all. To be


your brightest star and

your fondest memory.

That's all I could ever want

and if that makes me selfish


than it could be the only

word on my tombstone

and I'd still be


perfectly


content.

Eternally Brave and Loving

Darling, I will always believe in you.

Which is exactly why you should remember that you are so much stronger than this. 

Song Title Conversations

I know you can't hear me -

no one ever can.


That's why I scatter my thoughts,

comments, and ideas all over my world

for the few people who actually care

to find at their own leisure. I know you -

you are genuinely curious, that's why you

have found my every physical hiding place

and mental cottages and libraries

holding the only known dictionaries of

my own special languages. I know you -

you have already realized that most of this

is meant for a specific little group of people

who don't even try to understand

what I am doing. Not the way you do at least.


I know you can't hear me -

no one ever can.


That's why this will wait here for years

and years, looked at by hundreds -

maybe even thousands of people none of whom

will quite get it and then you will go scrolling through

trying to catch up on what you missed

when you refused to care because it just hurt you -

I like to say I know you, but the sad truth is

I only ever knew you and that has long since ended.


I know you can't hear me -

no one ever can.

Night's Regret

Intangible pens don't speak, Darling,

you should know - I mean after all these years


of back pocket notebooks and

borrowing pens from shopkeepers

ideas are not housed from the rain

if they do not have flesh to protect first.


Sunshine is a funny thing,

and so are artists - but I guess I'm not one


to talk considering I've been called both

countless times since birth. Intangible pens

like mute songbirds , nightingales with insomnia

and a cukoo that doesn't know to nest.


Darling, that's all your works are

if you can't remember to keep a pen with you as well.
    

Totally off-beat

Listen

while the rhythm you

casually see


displays

a reflection of wonder

from me.

The Catanese Tails

When I was a kid, I knew
this crazy old woman -

she had pet geese and
used sharpie for eyeliner,
she taught speech classes
and saw potential in me.

It wasn't just me though,
she had faith in every single
one of us in her class.

When I was a kid, I knew
the most pessimistic opptimist ever -

she started every afternoon off
by asking us what we'd laughed
because of and who made us
feel like we belonged (or at
the very least were loved).

And I miss her like crazy. 

Return to Sender

Return to Sender:


I'd love to pull a pen from my drawer

and use these veins as paper for you.


I read your letter, but I


just can't bring myself


to hold on to it longer than

you needed me to. Darling,


I'm sending this back to you

without a reply, but here it is


anyway, cause I've gotta get it

off my chest and out of my heart.


This time around I am not going to


respond with all the love in my heart,


but I suppose after all this time

you do deserve a free fall drop

as if you were one of these tears

welling in my shattered crystal eyes.


Did you know I write to you

in every piece I've ever etched?

That there's something about the way

sun shines and streets flood that both

bring me back to your house all over again?

That I was more at home in your bed

filled with books and anger than

at home with my own joyful family?

That you are a tree in my garden

with a trunk etched in initials and stories

surrounded by roses soiled in memories

watered in your unspoken names?


A response such as:


I


I need you to know that

I fashioned your latest letter

into a lullaby I'll sing myself

only when there's no one else

to hear for miles. (love like ours

is meant to kill not sting).


II.


You carry enough weight

in the ink you bleed for

the both of us, only you

forgot how to pen my name

the way I forgot your address

when you moved closer.


III.


Sometimes I want to write back

so I can let you see the pain

you've caused, but to give you

a type of healing I was never offered.

To paint your face from memory

and replay your voice from starsong

are two of my greatest dreams...


and fears.


IV.


Please, return to sender.

Without a response letter
 

Sparkling Little Drops of Hope

Baby, you do not have to be alone - ever.

You choose your loneliness. 

Sparkle Muffin

So there's an actual spider
that loves to dance
and in the right light
rainbows form beneath
it's feet - it loves life.

Now that you have this
amazing information, I hope
that you either find your
own peacock spider or
enjoy life just as much.

Happy Friday! Stay Well!

The Emerald Dream - totally a wow reference

Its all a dream, that's all that this so called life is. If we really have no control over our actions, like we are powerless in dreams, than why don't we deem life to be nothing more than a mere dream? If people are right, and things cant really be this bad or this perfect than we are all rag dolls in one specific dreamer's head on this eternal sleepless night. If we don't want it to be real, than this must be an elaborite dream from inside which we can somehow still feel. If there are memories of those who are dead and new people to leave us than this must be a play in our head, a play that we shall call "The Dream." If love is something we all fear than there are little voices messing around with your head and you must be safe and sound, comfy and cozy in your bed. So I guess this game we call life, might actually be the final dream of the last dreamer alive...
    

Prolific Actionfigures

I've come to terms
with the possibility
these words may not
save lives or change
the world for better.

But I'll keep writing -
there is strength in trying. 

Happy

He gleefully decided one

afternoon that I should take

poetess and dreamer

poetically from my name -

yearly I remain his Happy.

Scribbly Pink Ink Lives Again

When I was young
my nickname was
Strawberry Shortcake

and then I met you.
I evolved into Poetry
so you repurposed Strawberry.

It worked out well,
until we got too busy
for even ourselves.

Anyway, today I got
scented pens - now I
can't stop writing to you.

Poetry loves her Strawberry
forever and always -
I'll be here if you need

anything at all. 

This is Everything

Someday you are going to understand

Why it never worked or felt so perfect

With anyone else.


You will be given back every pen you

Have ever lost and everything you spent

So long being unable to say.


And when that day arrives you will set sail

Utop the world's most brilliant ocean

Waving goodbye to the shallow shore

Of loneliness you have grown so

Fond of.


There will be a new song stuck on repeat

Inside your already crowded mind

And a fire in your heart that will

Never go out.


At that moment Love will be

In yourgrasp. This is true love

This is it...


Everything you have ever wanted

Will soon be yours.
    

Setting you Free

What would you do


if


I told you that I finally


had the answers

to all your problems?
    

The Power of Joy

It's okay not to smile, if that's how you feel. But I hope you know your happiness is SO contagious. 

Dropping a Line

Dearest Brave Friend,

I just wanted to reach out
to see how you are.
To thank you for all
you have done for me
as well as everything
you're doing now for
so many more people.

I hope you know that
I haven't outgrown our
friendship - that I still
enjoy our conversations.

And I miss you everyday.

P.S.

If you're ever in town
the coffee's on me. 

The Waves Are calling - but hang in there

Swish, swish, crash and swish

come swimming with the kind fish.

Swish, swish, swish, swash

got problems, oh phish-posh.

Crash, splash, oh beautiful crash

come on in it's a grand bash.

splish splash, join in, splish splash

let me bring you in without whiplash.

swish, swish, crash and swish

don't be afraid - you're a fish.

Slow Fires Burn Brightly

I want -

                I need -

I'll spend lifetimes

       craving


the day that you

        allow

your heart to

        rejoice


in its inevitable

       victory

of surviving and

       thriving


despite its countless

       excuses

to just give up or

                                wither.
    

Benton's Pack Rats

You hang on to the thought of me
in case you ever wake up
so alone you forget how to

breathe.

And I suppose we were
so young I can't fault you,
but I forgot the way
your arms felt wrapped around

me.

So you should move on

too. 

Summer in the City

The sun rose early today,

birds sang freely, roses danced,

and asked about you
    

1431 4Ever

When you say you love me

water tastes sweeter. My chest
explodes into full bloom and
summers suddenly cool to
a nice even 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

Say it again, tomorrow, won't you?

Ain't it Bloomin' Yet?

Breathe.

It's cliche, I know -

but fresh air fills your lungs
at different rates each day.

Today

you could begin

all over again, without any
real effort on your part.

Ready?

On that Note

Wake with me just once more. . .

We'll share a cup of coffee on the patio,
watch the sun rise above the bayou, and
listen to the rolling of the pre dawn wind.

It's okay you know, to say it without the word.

-Goodbye. 

The Sun is Watching

You know how you can tell that I've moved on?

Well, for a while there, you were a part of all my passwords,
as a way of keeping our secret pages alive just a little longer.
Then today I took in the freshest breath of new world air
that I've gotten in a while and changed them all. Not as a way

of saying "fuck you" or forgetting the chapters we shared.

But rather, to thank you for all we did have. Before welcoming in
someone who's been waiting for the full extent of my heart
for so much longer than they ever should have needed.
Sometimes it's the things that are standing in the way

that get us where we need to be. I see that now. 

The Devil's Assistant

Silence might be

your savior, but

to me she's just


another


homicidal


maniac.

The Tides Turned

You never used to be so poetic,

words weren't ever your strong suit at all

but neither were numbers spelled out

in equations. Romanticism was never

your friend and the way we always stayed

in made me feel like you were ashamed of me -


like I was an embarrassment of a lover.

So I broke myself down and I lied,

I tore you to shreds and I ran away

long before you had the sense to call

an ambulance. I didn't realize that

our love made you so unstable,

and how could I when you were


never even there?


So don't let my return

drag your heart up

to the shore from

the furthest,

darkest depths


if you're going to take that as

false hope and try to steal

someone else's chance at happiness.


Maybe we both made mistakes,

but there was a reason I left and

you stayed in that world you createdin your head.

The Fire Within

What is with today's world

when everyone feels like

everybody's nothing,

because magazines

and television plauge

so many minds

daily.


Theres fire and ice

everywhere you look,

but its far more

Noticeable

within each of us

longing to put

our spark

out.


No one goes to the

mirror anymore to smile,

"There's the reflection

I admire so much."

Though they should

all of us are so

beautiful.


It's gotten so bad

that driving past the

high school I saw a

cathartic scarecrow

just waiting to

influence more of

us to be like

her.


What is with today's world

that we can't be satisfied

just by being ourselves?

Why must rhey make

us feel so small

when we know

that we are truly

amazing.

The Flow

Staring out the window at the lucid storm

fingers lightly tapping the blanket,

I wonder what tonight will bring.


Dreams to inspire love?

Fears to remind me of sorrow?

Messages to guide me in hope?

Something new to try, for experience?


The block on my ideas stabs me

oh God, my life's so boring.


Moving to the floor, my back against the wall,

feet sliding along the wooden floor boards,

pen in my hand getting slippery, losing

my grip and my captive mind running too.


Thoughts begin racing, legs collapse,

pen dances on the floor, imprinting new thoughts

forever and ever, for all to see.


I only hope the future owners

don't get mad at me...


What can I say though,

the inspiration comes and goes

I just have to follow the flow.
    

Talking to a Silenced Heart

I will never understand why you

Do the things you do. Or why I

Just cant ever seem to help you.

But I am glad you are in my life,

Even without talking, I guess I

Know you are still ok by the feeling

In my heart every time you

Cross my mind. Is that enough

To know thzt a person means

More than everything to you?


Anyway I just wanted to say

I miss hearing from you. I love

You so very much. Have a good

Evening please. Oh and don't forget

To remember me so I can

Remember not to forget you.


With love,

Your dreamer forever
 

To Someone Inky

I miss you in ways I never thought possible.


It's not like we were ever in love

and it's not hope of better days

that kept us together. But you

introduced me to some of my favorite songs

and I can't even listen to them


without wanting to cry

because you're not around

to talk about them,

to give them happier stories

like you did before.


Gravenhurst is almost the same thing,

I wanted to show him to you -

but he died shortly before your birthday.

Porcupine tree doesn't exist anymore

and Steven Willson only writes tales

of heartbreak now, Cake disappeared

and their randomness breaks me

in ways you're never going to realize.


Whenever someone calls me Hun or honey,

I look around the room for you,

fully aware you won't be there.

Someone I love was talking with me,

"I've come to terms with the fact

you've given your heart to someone else,

I am just a place holder until someone

better comes along," he said. . .


But I didn't, I didn't

give my heart to you,

It wasn't even love.


I miss you in ways I never thought possible,


so what was it?
    

Adult Supervision Required

Everything I write is
as honest and real,
as vivid and personal
               as breathing.

There is no filter between
my heart and my mind
so I'm not imposing one
between pen and paper either.

If this worries or offends you
this is not the place
                  for you.

Otherwise, thank you
for your time and please
                   come again. 

Neon Pinks, Greens and blues - oh those blues

Remind me more of those

poison dart frogs

you used to draw


wear more bright colors

so you warn away

all those other hungry mouths


going after you in alleys

and unknown backgrounds.

Songs Dont Say it

If ten thousand days

of living life

despite being on fire

was enough to send you

home to something -


anything that was better

than those goddamn flames

then when do I

get my

"happy" ending?

Complete and Off Track

You always were kind enough
to find beauty in me -
even when I sat broken
on the side of the road
trying to gather up all my
                                pieces. 

Star

You said that we

are doomed to be damned.

Because apparently,

somewhere along the way

of secret phone calls

at two am and

kisses out in the rain

before the school bell rang,

and all the secrets that we told,

and all the blood promises made,

we never thought to ask

each other for our names.


So we called each other

dreamer and star,

but star, I miss you.

Star, I love you.

Star, you are the brightest

star in my life and

I think that maybe,

just maybe somewhere

between our runs at dusk

 and our walks til dawn

I might have fallen

in love with you.


But now you are gone,

and here I am, all alone...

waiting for a hero

that will never show.

Why'd you have

to meet the knife?

Why did you take your life

that night?

Why did I fall for someone

I knew would never stay?

Will I see you again one day?

 

Happy Birthday!

My beloved Spud King,

big brother in spirit,

today is marvelous (for many reasons).


Speaking of that, do you

have your towel and

has anyone sung that song yet?


Tonight we should watch

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

as we eat cake with your name.


We should read Vogan poetry

and spread confetti across the floor

in honor of you and Douglass Adams.


My beloved Spud King,

today your towel is the Duke of Spud

and I hope you enjoy your day of birth!

The World Already Ended

You claimed

that your mother

was a gypsy


while you were young.

You told me stories

from your adventures

with her and offered up

the fears instilled

within you by

your father.


You let me know

more about you

than anyone else

ever would.


Then you left

without any

sort of warning.


At least I know

where you got

that from.

I love those

gypsy ties

of yours.


And it's comforting

to think that you

won't be back,

prepared to deepen

these elaborate cuts

decorating my soul.
    

Bravery and Simplicity

The entire house would
smell like strawberries
whenever you'd come over.

And even though we'd
sit in silence reading
or sipping cappuccinos,

you will always be my

favorite summer. 

Extensive Private Library or Otherwise

Knowledge is more than the number of books on your shelves or facts in your head. Please keep this in mind when they are comparing you to someone else. You are yourself and there is nothing greater. 

You Are Loved Too

When we were little, you and I

would sit in the back yard waiting -

laying on our backs, staring up 

at the clouds, waiting for inspiration

to strike. Every summer we went out

and bought a new bucket of chalk

so we could outdo ourselves from 

the previous doodles and hopscotch boards. 

But I think my favorite summer of all

was the one we just wrote messages

for all the neighbors to see as they 

walked their dogs or jogged to work.

When we were little, you and I

had such big dreams - thank you

for helping me make all mine 

come true as the summers passed.