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And to you,
I'm especially sorry.
I'm sorry I doubted you,
Because I know all you wanted was love,
And I don't know how to give that.
They say it's cause I don't know how to accept it,
And I say they're right.
They're so freakin' right.



Yours Truly,
Penelope Jude

You influenced my life, and I wish I could let you know. I wish I could actually write you a good poem. This is all I have.

I said a joke.
I said a joke,
And I acted like I knew you,
And I have never been more ashamed.

Do you hate me?
Do you hate that I cried?
Do you hate that I comforted him?
Her?
Them?
Do you watch me and scowl at my shell of a human?
If you were me,
I'd be iconic.
Finally, I'd life to my potential
and soar through the crowds,
Their eyes admiring me,
as my chest heaved and my hair flowed.
But that is not how it is.
For I am me,
And you are you,
I am here,
And you are there,
And I want to be there!
But I am here.
Your legend will live on forever,
Here.
And I wish you were here.



Yours Truly,
Penelope Jude

And I Will

I once knew a girl
who, when asked to recite a poem,
would talk

like this.
Waiting
for your reaction
because

SHE KNEW

she would get it.
Then I stood up there,
speaking with so much feeling,
I thought my heart would burst.
And it did.
Through my eyes and down my cheeks,
I could hardly see.
But she's in New York,
And I'm here,
hands wrinkly from washing the dishes,
because I never was the girl

who could.
But I will.


Yours Truly,
Penelope Jude