Lovers"Do you have a boyfriend?"Her eyes crawled from corner to corner as she mouthed the question. Do I have a boyfriend? After what felt like an unnecessary contemplation she said "...I know a lover, but I don't have him.""What does that mean?""I don't know if he's mine. He doesn't go by Mine ... that is to say, many could call out Lover! and he would answer. I could call out Mine! and receive no reply.""So this guy, whose not your boyfriend, doesn't it bother you that he doesn't feel the same way about you as you feel about him?"Her head lobbed to one side, as if it were weighted, her eyes found another corner, higher this time, right above my head. She may have been smiling, I didn't think so at the time but now as I reflect upon it, I believe she was. "I've known many lovers" She said "Many of them are strangers now. Strange thing, to know someone intimately, the crevasses of their body, their dark thoughts, and then in a blink, they are
Concernedly UnfleetingShe woke up as the sun did. Slowly creeping out of bed, eyes still half shut, her figure a small silhouette, fumbling about the bedroom. And then suddenly, I swear, I merely blinked, and the whole room was glowing with her presence. Her warm smile reflected the warm cup she placed in my hands and we just sat smiling to one another, to our selves, witnessing the blues of the day come into focus.You see, the sun was on the verge of rising. Too cold outside for the stunning rays she was known for. Today would not be a day for warmth, as our little morning cocoon would have you believe. No, today was a day for clarity, at it's best.Everything sparkled. The snow covered cars, the ice covered trees, her dark brown eyes. It felt magical, yet at the same time, untouchable. Frighteningly magical. The world outside my window looked Disney inspired, friendly, unreal, and frozen. Literally and figuratively, a beautiful winter still. How in the world is this moment, this time and place, st
This is the Door I Left Open For YouYou knocked and knocked. When I called outfor you to come in, the knocking stopped.I peered out the window and you were gone.I hesitantly moved on.I got up and closed the door, realizing it wasa ding dong ditch. From time to timeyou still knock, but the door stayslocked.
BalloonBalloons were created to floaton a leash. To be releasedis relieving solely to thefreed.
Sleep ChildSleep child. The day is done.A sweeter song is being sungthan the morning's rooster call.Sleep child, this day is done.Rest easy. Time will stopbefore a new day has begun.Sleep child. Sleep quick,before dark steals your thoughts.The night creeps on bywhile you're wide eyed.
Learn to SwimThey lined up and dove in. Every one of them sunk like rocks.Their eyes were red when they came up. They cried, I think, it was a pool of tears.Choking. Breathing. Laughing.She laughed a knowing laugh."If you stay in the shallow end you'll never learn to swim."I don't live by the ocean and I don't enjoy the sea,so what does your wisdom have to do with me?I waited by the door but you already left, so I wadedin the water and took a deep breath. I unstrappedthe vest that protects my chest. I shut my eyes and pluggedmy nose and pretended I was a balloon. Gravity wasn't pretendingand reality pulled me under. Flailing to floatand failing, my heart deflated. I gulped downwater not fit for drinking. Soon the sinking stopped.My toes reached cool tileand I thought thatthis must behow it feelsto walk on the moon.Moments felt like minutes,pushing toward the surface,bouncing back to Earth.
DriverI spend my evenings predicting the future.I will lay awake, with my eyes closed in the dark,considering hypothetical scenarios of what it mightbe like if that happens. Predicting how it will beeven though it is never is what you'd think, unlessthat is what you make it. You create it. I are not a passive passenger riding in the flowany relationship. I am the driver. I figure outwhat I want, and make it happen with that person.I choose to laugh.
O.R.B. He opened the front door and it didn't creak the way he'd expected it to. The house didn't know his father was dead. It was still fresh smelling, alive with plants and natural light. The curtains in the living room blew around, excited by his arrival. Ted had to push against the wind to shut the door. The house was quiet, anticipating his next move. He had to remind himself to stay on task. Do not pout around, don't touch everything. Find the papers and do what they say. In and out. It had been years since Ted set foot inside his parent's house. He forgot how Home and Garden's everything looked. Rather than being in his childhood home, Ted imagined he'd stumbled onto a made for TV movie set. Any minute a man would yell CUT and the walls would come down. Ted waited, and nothing happened. Every room was picture perfect out of a magazine. All shades of green and brown. The dishes and table sett
Lovers SpinningI faced him with nervous anticipation as our arms intertwined. His large hands easily clasped around my wrists. I too, held on to him. We began to spin, slowly at first. Everyone around us flashed looks of agitation, but I knew it was envy. He smiled and took pride in the fact that I was playing along. His feet sped up so I tried to keep up. We both laughed as our world disappeared into a kaleidoscope of color. Our shoes dug holes into the ground. I didn't want to slip, because I knew he wouldn't let me go and we'd both go tumbling down.We'll either decelerate or fall into the grass together. That is how it will end. It will be soft and will not hurt. Afterwords, we will wipe joy tears from our eyes. So I hoped.As our speed increased, so did doubt. I was sure we were spiraling out of control. My mind flashed forward, anticipating the release. Any moment now his hands will escape mine. I will fly away from him. My vision will be hazy without his face to focus on. I will be lightheaded
.she'll hold him tight tonightand dread the coming mo(u)rning
in all i trustShe says trusting this muchis like clawing through my skin,shattering my sternum, andsnapping each rib like pencilsto unearth a thudding fistpressed between two lungs.Trusting this much is hammeringmyself to a cross like a scarecrowand screaming, “Take it! Take it all!”to home-wrecker ravens and expectingthem to land on my shoulders and cooinstead of claw and caw as they always have.I say trusting this muchis standing naked in soft moonlight,warm haze of orange street lampshanging outside of the shudderson the midnight blue backdrop.Trusting this much is spreadingmy arms wide and whispering,“This is all that I have, all that I am,”to the stars and birds on the wireand expecting nothing in return,but praying underbreath it willbe enough to make them stay.Trusting this much is notbeing vulnerable with monstersand expecting not to be torn apart.It is knowing I may be hurt,but I also may be loved honestly,and this is a chance I am willin
Mask Pt.2Dissolve these demonicMasksWe wear,And we'll seeWe all look the same.But I've foundThey aren't easilyTaken off.I've found it too difficultTo undress these thoughts,Instead, I wrap themIn jackets & scarvesTo match this coldWorld.
Night SkyPaint me a story of words,the clouds and sky sit as a attentive audience.The stars outline filled with memories of our epic journey.Hands will be joined together underthe light of the Haley’s Comet.The man in the moon will stay hidden in the moon,we’ll seek him out while sitting on our picnic basket.
caesuraSea foam layers salt ringslike age lines on beached birch wood,shattered shells scattered like treasuresacross soft sand that shifts itselfinto hiding between bare skinand shame.I watch turtles hatch and meanderlike men toward different beginnings,the veins of better thingsetched like hieroglyphson humpbacked shells,and I can't help but wonderif maybe I should start crawling, too.Instead, I pick bits of sea kelpout of half-decaying seashellsand watch the sundip a goodbye to the breeze again.They say you can hear the oceanif you put one to your ear,so I tilt my head and listento the whispers that beckon fromthe bottom of a half-rememberedworld.Lofted on a breezeheaded out like a ship on calm waves,phantom voices bickerover which promises to sell me;I hiccup heavy heartbeatsand wonder why empty wordsare so much easier to swallowfor the broken.
GardenWhen I lay myself downOn the warm grassAmong the flowersI gaze at my reflectionIn the sky I'm falling intoWhat is leftOf the person I was Eyelashes flutterAnd cheeks flushI dream of faraway landsBathed in sunlightAnd gems Freedom in my brainSparklingI am stuck in the gardenOf my life
Caesura--C.Sea foam layers salt ringslike age lines on beached birch wood,shattered shells scattered like treasuresacross soft sand that shifts itselfinto hiding between bare skinand shame.I watch turtles hatch and meander like men toward different beginnings,the veins of better thingsetched like hieroglyphson humpbacked shells,and I can't help but wonderif maybe I should start crawling, too.Instead, I pick bits of sea kelpout of half-decaying seashellsand watch the sun dip a goodbye to the breeze again.They say you can hear the oceanif you put one to your ear,so I tilt my head and listen to the whispers that beckon from the bottom of a half-remembered world.Lofted on a breezeheaded out like a ship on calm waves,phantom voices bickerover which promises to sell me;I hiccup heavy heartbeatsand wonder why empty wordsare so much easier to swallowfor the broken.
hymenopteracompassionis full of surrogateslike those brushing in the yard;accidental flowersI would grant them their aspirationone last, exalted screambefore the crisp disintegrationto be a crystal in the honeycombsome edge of necessitynot yet worried off to the nubI do see youand rememberit was me
Misery miserable with youmiserable alonedifference isalone I would only be lonelynot betrayed and tormentedby the presence of onewho once claimed to love me
InkI like to draw hearts on my wrist in ink.Let it wash away and draw them again.Not always in the same placesor the same amount.Sometimes my heart's in different places,but I always have one.