Glow

A Bath

Modern Woman

Fresh Air

If I'm being honest

your disinterest
is part of the appeal

because I love every pretty, solid perch
unless it looks too welcoming,
then suddenly it resembles a cage
and my instinct is to fly away.

They say love is
giving someone the power to destroy you
and trusting them not to...

and if I'm being honest?
I don't know if I can ever do that
again.

Punching Bag

I will take it in silence
for years
deep cuts,
low blows

I will let you transfer your pain to me,
let you express your anger,
I'll just stitch myself back up
over and over again

I will never hit you back
because I know your pain,
and I couldn't bear
to cause any more

but know
a day may come
when I will be too worn
too busted and beaten in...

if that day comes...
don't be fooled...
don't you dare...
you will have no right...

when I get tired of getting shit on
do not accuse me of being the asshole.

A Meditation

The ocean keeps me grounded

it reminds me how much
I can't see
it reminds me how much
I don't know
it reminds me
that I am small

and that I only exist
because the universe allows me to

the ocean
the mother

she washes away
what weighs me down
and leaves only
this breath

because
the only truth
the only thing I have
the only thing I am
is this breath

the ocean reminds me
not to waste
this breath

Spoken Word

I wish
I could perform my poetry
with the passion and power and presence
that's sent so many chills
up
and
down
my nonexistent spine

I wish
my voice would resonate
the way these words do in my skull

I wish I could make you hear and feel and breathe and cry
this rythm
as I do

because
unlike my voice

these words
are anything but silent

these words
are singing
are laughing
are
fucking
screaming
bellowing
thundering

you have no idea
how deafening my silence can be
and I am infected by the noise
I simply do not have the lung capacity to share

but god
how I wish I could.

Hindsight

I stood between your legs,
you sat on the edge of the bed,
your arms around my waist
as I cradled your head in my chest...

I felt needed,
and you were so
wanted.

Such a scared little boy
in such a big man's body.

The girl was in love,
the woman was already getting bored.

Thank you for running,
because I,

I would've stayed.

Lazy Days

A weekend wasted

on warm black fur,
calming down,
and quiet.

No questions,
no answers,
no talking.

A weekend wasted
on peace of mind
is not wasted.

Shhh

Eyelids
and bones
weighed down
by the noise in the night
I hear my voice begging for peace
"Shhh, please, I'm trying
to sleep."

Wish List

It's never what you want
is it?
When they say it's a gift
and you try to be grateful
but it's heavy
and did not come with instructions
and it's just...
not what you wanted...

Don't

Everything
stings

things
that are not poisonous
are making me sick

the heat is too hot
and the cold freezes

it's all too much
please
don't touch

I
am
a raw
nerve

Smile

Depression is unprofessional
so put on your happy face

nobody wants to see your anxiety
so swallow it and gather your strength

no one wants to see problems
they don't mean it when they ask you how you are
don't be fooled
not only does no one care
no one has time to pretend to
so pretend you don't

smile

The Beast

I think
my generation is confused

they treat love
and sex
like they're the same thing

sex can be fun
a jump to the left
a step to the right
kiss and fuck and fight
make sure you play your cards right
a game anyone can play

but love
is not a game
hearts are not toys
men are not marionettes
girls are not dolls
love is a beast one must respect

it can rip your heart out through your throat
or it can be your fearsome protector

it's all in your attitude,
it doesn't like to be used

and trust me when I say
I don't care who you think you are
you cannot out maneuver the beast

Bad Girl's World

Sweetheart,
never let them turn you sour
read any book that draws you in
listen to any song that moves you
and remember the awful things they say
are their demons coming out to play,
don't let them become yours too.
Know that love
is your sword,
and your sheild.
Know that kindness breaks walls,
and patience moves mountains,
and if you ever find yourself falling short

look to your mother,
whose kindess has been mistaken for weakness,
whose patience has been mistaken for surrender,
whose still tongue has been mistaken for a quiet mind,
who shed her armor years ago,
and walks the battlefield naked,
exposed,
whose skin is stronger where its scarred
and know

it takes bravery to be bare.

You don't have to go bad to beat them,
the world is full of bad girls,
be more,
be rare,
be good.

Cold

The air around me
is always
cold

The Ice Queen
The Unfeeling

numb from the frost
I made into armor
to protect me from flames
I should have known better than to touch.

Here

Always
an afterthought.

They say
you teach people
how to treat you,

so it makes sense
that I'm the last resort,
the back-up plan.

When there's nobody else
there's always me...

Learning to scream

Just a mouse of a thing
never a squeak of protest
never a toe out of line
or a tail in the light
meek and quiet
unseen

but I am learning to scream

Not yet a tiger
with a fearsome roar
or deadly claws
or terrible grace and power
still I prefer the quiet life
not ready to be queen

but I am learning to scream

I am not all I've ever wanted to be
but I am more than I've ever been

and I
am learning to scream

The Space Between

In the days of loathsome bangs
and crushed velvet
I could count on a house
full to bursting
with laughter and love
more conversations
than any one man could keep track of
and hopeless amounts of food
so much warmth
from so many hearts
giving thanks

now so many eat elsewhere,
there is room between bodies
for the cold air of winter
to chill our food
our laughter

our love is still such to be thankful for
but I am not used to the space
in between.

Music and Miles

Windows down
volume up

all the air in my lungs
busy reaching the right notes

a tear here and there
just because it's been a while

breaking speed limits
mile after mile

to where the road ends
and all is quiet.

Excerpt - Good Morning

"Hey"
Six weeks.
I hadn't seen the man in six weeks and I get "hey."
"Hey" I replied.
He sat stiffly in a wooden rocking chair by the fire as I hung my coat by the door and shook the remaining snowflakes from my damp hair.
He looked... tired. I mean he looked fucking incredible, but he looked about ready to collapse.
I didn't bother brushing the gray, melting chunks of ice off my boots. I brought them to the hearth and set them in the warmth of the low flames.
Then I turned to face my husband.
He stood.
For a heartbeat, we simply stared. After everything that had happened, and with all that still lay before us, there was something strange there in the space between us...
We ignored it.
My arms clambered up around his huge shoulders, hands impatiently burrowing into his hair as I pulled his lips to mine. His hands were too eager to be gentle as they squeezed my suddenly small body into his as though trying to assimilate my very cells into his own. One hand lifted my ass as I wrapped my legs around his waist. We were a tornado of tears and lust and tongues and fingers that finally touched down in the bedroom.
Suddenly, there was no war, no life or death, no danger or enemies, prophecies or kingdoms, nothing more important than the single celestial being we became.
Then there was sleep.
So much glorious sleep.
We did not break skin-to-skin contact for a moment that night.
I never thought I'd feel it again, the absolute shield of his arms around me, erasing all the rest of the world from my mind, leaving only us... yet here it was.
I woke with a tear. I refused to move. Instead, I listened closely to his breath. In and out, deep and steady, showing off that lung capacity I'd always envied. I could feel his heartbeat echoing my own against my skin and tried to sync them. I failed.
I opened my eyes and found a perfect view of his young, but weathered face. The new scar was sexy, but heartbreaking. I couldn't help but think everything that had happened was my fault...
My pessimism made me restless.
I kissed his nose, then his lips, then his neck, just where his strong jaw began, and then began decorating his chest, and really any bit of skin I could reach.
He didn't open his eyes, but tightened his embrace so I couldn't move, and made a small groaning sound as he stretched his long limbs.
"Good morning" I said.
"Mmmmmmmorning" he mumbled in response.

The Sunflower

A sunflower
blooming with the first snow
utter nonsense
and a gorgeous contradiction

it seems to understand
that as endings come
the way is made
for new beginnings

Super

I have a superpower

I am not seen
I am not heard

if I am out of sight,
I am surely out of mind

my voice is a draft from under the door
my body a knot in the woodwork

I can manipulate small objects
but I never touch skin
let alone soul

I do not exist

I am not strong
I am not fast

I am not a hero

no one said I was
no one ever will.

Good Enough

Good enough is
nothing special

no one asks for
good enough

good enough is accepted
with slumping shoulders
and a sigh of defeat

good enough is
forgettable

good enough
will always be abandoned
in favor of something
incredible

but
good enough
is at least
good enough.

Most Prized

When I said
these books
are the thing I would save
were the house set aflame
you told me
that was silly,
I could just buy new ones.

When I said
these books
are my most prized possessions
I think
you misunderstood.

What I meant was

these books
my books

with wrinkled pages,
damaged by the eagerness
of my own fingertips,
discolored and stained,
worn and torn,

so obviously used,
so obviously loved,

These books,
where the DNA
of my childhood
shall outlive my own children

where all was well,
and where magic will
always
be
real

These
time capsules
irreplaceable memoirs

are my most prized possessions.

One of Many

I do not buy into the idea that there is
one
right
person
for everyone.

I believe that very first girl
the melodramatic, captivating little diva next door,
who's living room my overly adventurous little sister
climbed into uninvited,
who became my very first
best friend
was my soulmate
and I hers.

I believe the crazy little blonde tomboy
in my kindergarten class
who's backyard served as a blank book
in which stories of our adventures would be immortalized
in the dirt, and the trees
who I've grown apart from
and will always feel a part of
was my soulmate
and I hers.

I believe the beautiful,
deceptively quiet woman
who was once the girl in my drama class
with the cool shoes
with whom I would grow from girl to womanhood
our friendship immune to time and silence
is my soulmate
and I hers.

I believe the boy who loved me, truly
but in all the wrong ways
and taught me that I had to love and respect myself first
so I could recognize toxicity when it told me what not to eat
who learned how to love, through losing mine
was my soulmate
and I his.

I believe the man in the armor
the big brother I never wanted,
who's darkness makes mine brighter
who never has to speak to be understood in my presence
may be my soulmate
and I his.

I believe when I meet
"the one"
he will be one of many
and that fact will not diminish the truth
or the joy
that he will be my soulmate
and I his.

Some are old, and dormant,
but never forgotten.
Some are lifelong, and reliable
and certain.
Some are new,
and unpredictable.
Some, have yet to be discovered.

I believe there are many people
who's paths we are meant to cross
people we've known from past lives
souls born from the same stars;

all of whom are right for you
even when they're wrong,

all of whom become you
even when they're gone.

quiet

Lights out
lie down

quiet

I would love
arms around me
a quiet mind
a steady heartbeat
a positive outlook
a sunny disposition
a simple life
a peaceful night

but I'll settle
for lights out
lying down
quiet.

forgettable

There's a reason
the characters I've always idolized most
have been described as
plain
common
unremarkable
forgettable

Because eventually
as the story went on
something
wonderful
is always revealed
something special
that makes their story worth telling

I've never felt like a main character
I've always felt
disposable
at best
but I've always dreamed
that somewhere in me
is a
story
worth
telling.

A moment of pessimism

Here's the thing About
"finding someone"

In my entire life
I have met 3 whole people
3
who's presence doesn't
drain me
requiring chunks of uninterrupted solitude
to recharge

Every family member
every friend
every lover
they have brought me joy
laughter
but none could share my precious solitude
without disturbing it

save 3

how can I expect to be so lucky
as to find a 4th
so soon

let alone
expect him to love me

#fake

Everything
is cropped, filtered 

even the name you display
is not the name you were given

and how are we to trust 

anything

when we know full well

how little truth survives the editing process.

Maybe, so many

feel so hollow

because so much is spent

perfecting the profile

nothing human remains.

Threat

Honestly

the threat of dying

is not what's scaring me

I've been feeling

aggressively neutral 

about my death for some time

but the thought of

the pain

stacking upon pain

that

I fear

Nothing

I've always wanted to believe

believe in magic

believe in people

believe in God

I've never been able to believe

in anything

nothing has ever felt real to me

which is maybe why time

seems to slip past my notice

so very quickly

nothing has ever felt important

except maybe loss

nothing has ever 

really 

mattered...

because of this

everything

matters

and

I am 

free

to live each moment

as though

it's the only 

true thing

to be true to myself

as though

my self 

is all I have

I may cease to exist at any second

and so every second

is more important than the last

and I won't waste any of them.

Examining Scars

I've always liked burns best.

The "cat scratches"

were the easiest to lie about,

but if they hurt enough

the bled too much

and they didn't scar.

While the glide of a razor

was satisfying, it was preceded

by an unpleasant POP

as the blade broke the skin

and again, too much blood.

But the burns

could be obtained accidentally

and the sting went deep enough

to drown out the noise

and they leave the loveliest scars.

Freefall

It's the feeling you get

when you've just passed the apex

of the rollercoaster

and the drop has just begun

and though they are not yet in full frenzy
you feel the butterflies taking off;

except 

the butterflies 

are in my head

Chaos

I left the church behind me

when I realized

it could not give me

the peace it promised

I looked to the earth instead

the great mother

such serene

solid rock,

sprouting

trees, tall and strong,
hosting

lakes, placid and deep,

creating

the birds, the fish, life itself,

but then;

quakes and storms

volcanoes and geysers

chaos 

erupting 

like tears

from a mind 
that can't take it anymore

so
maybe peace

is only an illusion

and chaos

is the highest power.

Fa(ith/te)

When I was younger

my little cousin tried to explain

as we sat on metal bleachers,

in an attempt to convert me,

"Faith"

she told me

"is trusting 
these benches 
not to collapse
and throw you to the ground"

I told her

"I don't trust them,

I simply accept that I currently 

live in a reality where

they haven't

yet,

so instead of living my life

trusting that the ground will not

crumble

beneath my feet,

I walk

carefully

brusquely

watching the cracks

watching others walking my direction

prepared for disaster

yet

appreciating

every

single

step

because each step

each breath

is a product of the simple luck

that happens to place my consciousness 
in the exact current of fate's rivers

which hasn't killed me

yet

and to me,

that feels like

truth...

like

freedom"

She looked at the benches we sat on

and breathed

a little

slower

a little 

deeper

and smiled.

_______

I want to sleep

long 

and 

solid

and

d

r

e

a

m

l

e

s

s

I want to breathe

d e e p l y

and   exhale   with   ease

I want to blink________

_and to open my eyes_

_________________slowly

Iwantmythoughtstomoveatapace 

whereImayactuallyhavetime

to think them

I want my heart to stay

willingly inside my chest

instead of pounding

                                                     pounding

                                                                                     pounding

Is

peace

so much

to ask for?

Sleep

I wonder what it's like

to wake up after sleeping

solid, all night

what it's like to sleep

on cheap sheets without

waking up with rug burns

what eight full hours

of uninterrupted peace

does to a body

don't look for a meaning
I'm too tired to write one

this poem isn't deep

I just want to sleep

Say it Without the Words

"Text me when you're home so I know you're safe" 

"have you eaten yet?" 

"I brought food" 

"just wanted to say hi" 

etc... 

but I think the best way to say it 

is to not say it at all. 

Say it in the way you watch them; 

watch them get to the door so you know they got in safely, watch them walking towards you,

watch them sleeping if you fall asleep last or wake up first. 

Say it in the way you touch them; 

softly and playfully 

and all the time. 

Say it by listening to what they have to say, 

their stories, their dreams, their fears. 

Say it by caring how their day was. 

Say it by doing the dishes without being asked if they cooked. 

Say it by holding them silently when they are sad, 

or you simply had a peaceful moment. 

Say it by pushing them with your feet them until a soft crinkle forms between their brows,

and they start to push back,

and then tackle them.

Say it by not interrupting them when they're reading a book they've been going on about. 
Say it by knowing their favorite song
Say it by trusting them

Say it by running your fingers through their hair, 

and feeling the strands slip through the gaps as you graze the gentle curve of their skull, 

using your nerve endings to soak up the 

magic of their existence.

La Lune

Even half dark

the summer moon

shines so brightly through my window

it puts all my dreamcatchers out of jobs.

I stare at the shadows of the feathers 

swaying gracefully against the wall

and envy the moon

as she glows

so distant

yet, still

so loved

Happy Anniversary Harry

20 years ago today, a book was published. At the time, I was a happy six-year-old, enjoying the summer between kindergarten and first grade. A year and a half later, Ms Zoellner of Commonwealth Elementary, would read a book to her class, published June 27, 1997, a book about The Boy Who Lived. At the time, I was reading books like The Magic Tree house, The Unicorn Chronicles, The Dragon Chronicles, American Girl, and The Royal Diaries, but still, I was fascinated by the story of this little outcast, going on adventures, facing dangers, making friends, and becoming immersed in this wonderful, magical world which was so much stranger and so much better than the one he did not fit into. The next year, Ms Cash would encourage me to dive into that world which I was sure would be a better fit for me than this one. In 4th grade my Grampa would bring the first 3 books in the series to my house, especially for me... and that was it, I was hooked. With the approval and encouragement of both my favorite teacher and my beloved grandfather, my Sir Lancelot, I dive headfirst into the magical world of JK Rowling and Harry Potter.

2 years later I began to deal with what I would eventually discover to be Major Depressive Disorder. This world, this reality, became all but unbearable. Emotionally I completely shut down to try to stop the ache only to find numbness somehow even more painful and empty. Having just moved to Riverside and finding I wasn't quite as well liked as I had been at my old school, for the first time having to deal with bullies with not a friend to defend me, I retreated into my room. I would stare at the popcorn ceiling for hours in the dim light that came through my curtains... until eventually... I discovered that I could completely disappear whenever I wanted... by simply opening a Harry Potter book.

In my darkest of times, JK Rowling turned on the light.

Hogwarts became my home when I felt lost.

Harry, Ron, Hermoine, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Sirius, they became my friends when I felt utterly alone.

I laughed when they laughed, cried when they cried, bled when they bled.

These books are the reason I never gave up. They were my solace, they were my joy, they were my world.

Thank you, JK Rowling, Ms Zoellner, Ms Cash, and Grampa. Thank you for giving me this world. Because of you, all was well.

Always One More

Just one more

one more battle to fight

one more moment to survive

one more doubt to disprove 

one more fear to breathe through
one more nightmare to dream through 

one more voice in my head

to force back into the recesses

where she has no power

at least

where I think she has

less power...

Just one more

step to take

paragraph to write

tear to wipe

impulse to resist

unharmed wrist

way to convince myself

that this is stupid

and will only make things worse

despite thinking nothing

could feel worse

than nothing...

Just one more

surely I can make it

through 

just one more...

Layers

there are layers to loneliness

one layer can be taken care of

by simply going to work

a layer could be satisfied 

by an afternoon at a dog park

yet another can be fixed by texting a friend

and the next by going out with one

the next layer requires a mother

and other family type interaction 

the next requires my mother

and the rest of my family

and my childhood home

beyond that is a layer of holding

someone to cuddle after a long day

and ask no questions

and give love through simple touch

beyond that... 

a human needs all those layers satisfied at once

to feel truly human

and whole.

The Tortoise

My mother says I'm slow

well

my mother

my employers

my lovers

have all complained about the length of time

I require

and I am slow

every thought

every action

every task

is carried out with as much

caution, efficiency, and grace 

as possible

and with as little

noise, damage, wrong 

as possible 

and then analyzed upon completion

so that I may improve upon my method 

upon my madness

so yes

I have missed

buses

deadlines

opportunities

but nobody does anything quite as well as I do

To my mother, who worries;

You know

the universe gives me these people

these damaged

prickly

hard-to-love people

on purpose

because everyone

everyone

deserves to be loved

and you gave me your bleeding heart

and there are few

very few

who could love them like I do

Preventative Care

I have this ability,

this habit,

of talking myself down

from the brink of feeling,

of making any guy unworthy 

until I'm only interested

in the ones who aren't 

today

on the drive to work

as a Taylor Swift song

leeched tears from my eyes

while I sang 

I figured out why

When I love someone

it never fades

but remains bright and sharp and deep

and always lodged exactly where they left it

the only way I can move on

is when the pain it causes becomes just as deep

or deeper,

is when the wounds we inflicted on each other

become so rotten

the whole area goes numb

maybe I'm afraid to love so deeply

and open myself up

to yet another infection

maybe this ability 

this habit

is my own preventative care.