She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun ..tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of coloured beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
"Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be." —Clementine Paddleford
Read More"My pride has been fighting with the pain of the potential of a life without him.
Will I even survive this?"
When you're your biggest enemy...well that's absolutely miserable but when the person you love most in the world seems to consider you their biggest enemy ..that's a totally different kind of Hell.
Read Morestuck in transit –
yellow, grey, and blue.
Life with you and love in you –
something big brand new.
Steps and prints on paper –
tatters of my heart.
Satellites and murky water –
Tearing us apart.
"Maybe none of this actually means anything if I don't have him. And maybe I hate myself for that.
And maybe I even hate him for that."
Wallpaper like grass swallowing the spider
to see a sonic boom each time I lied to her
I don’t have to go home but home’s always brighter
& she’ll never disappear. she’s a lovely fighter
It’s hard to avoid implosion at just the sight of her.
Read MoreI’m marking the 11th anniversary of you being gone,
by continuing my attempt to forget the pain you left me with.
Every time you creep into my mind
I feel a sharp knife twisting through my back
straight into my heart.
“Even though I think about you every day. I don’t think of you anymore.
Memories, yesterday, people have all become outlines, silhouettes –
all distractions from my real life.
…from the life I’m supposed to be living now."
Read More"I was almost late to work this morning because I was in bed dreaming about how I was late to work. And laying next to me was the first boy I ever kissed. I mumbled something like "Let's call in sick" and he concurred. We stayed in the big warm comfy bed with our legs intertwined. Skin, touching, sticking."
Read MoreI always say I like it when you smile.
I like your smile.
Your laugh, I like that it gives me goose bumps.
And you laugh.
Sad songs remind me of you
And I smile.
Words like dark and nothing and pretend.
Like black, loss, death, and the end.
And it’s been raining so hard lately.
I fear you’ll be taken away by a river of
dirty water, concrete, grass and dirt.
Tossing, tumbling with bodies different
from your own touching and bumping,
rotating and swirling and you’ll all utter
niceties: “I’m sorry, oh, excuse me…”
Cars and bicycles, and stuff leftover from
the yard sale next door.
And I’ll absorb all the moisture regurgitated
by the plant-life in the front yard.
Like a sponge.
“I’m taking something to be happy
I must be happy.
What’s happy?
Have I ever been truly happy?
Do I just try to convince myself I’m happy when I’m not?
Do I try to convince myself I’m depressed when I’m not?"
So blowing bubbles
in your overspill,
your liquid remains,
your blood, your organs, your bones –
morbid indeed but something good
from something bad and
today and tomorrow bumblebees afloat –
transforming red to black and yellow,
my poetry’s incoherent, inaudible,
and an abundance of technical jibberish
Sara’s messy –
in paisley pink boiling blisters.
Tomorrow’s her birthday
and so is her sister’s.
But Jane won’t be there –
because Jane was killed.
But Sara doesn’t mind,
In fact, she’s quite thrilled.
Banter more –
your voice burns through skin,
through thin membrane,
through nail and sweat –
so sweet like honey running
down my throat and you’ve
only just begun.
Vulnerabilities magnified
and analyzed like systematic
steps with no conclusion but
I’m still madly in love with you.
Young with weight & dumping
dirt in soapboxes
Paris doesn’t know you
like the king in plays glancing your way.
Though you know only one
no translation’s needed and
your overused, frail, bruising body
knows manipulation like
kids on swings singing Simple Man
before narcolepsy takes them away.
Mouth; 2 feet tall, 2 feet deep bowl
But just a bit too small to swallow your soul.
2 minutes short on time to console
Mouth; 2 feet tall, 2 feet deep bowl
“She complained about the freckles on her face, her chlorine green hair, and the centimeters of flesh that “hung over” her pants.
(but she called it fat.)
She’s almost 6’0 tall and about 150 pounds. And she said she was told if she ever wanted to pursue modeling, she’d have to do it as a plus-size model.”
Read Morewhen you snuck in the film noir
when you lightly touched my skin
like a peignoir
mama said you’d leave a scar
but you were just a polestar, my lodestar
& me a motionless presence in your sidecar.
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
