I used to be blue
reflecting off the lover
now it’s so dusty
I can’t even see her.
We used to share rain
Now I might as well be throwing
dirt in her face.
I used to be respected
as a sculpture
no one dared to cut into my sides
Now the cutting happens on a daily basis.
They pave their roads into me
cars constantly bruising my skin
What happened to coming to me to heal?
Now you bring your greed and problems here.
I used to be wanted
the earth gladly greeted me with green.
People soaking up my rays
now they hid in their houses.
Taking supplements to replace me
then they wonder why they don’t shine
Cold, dark weather
the clouds look like someone
throw ashes into the air
now they stay there
When I walk it goes deep into my lungs
mixed with the cold
its hard to breathe
A cat behind me
a little calico kitten
meowing asking me to stay
but i can't
and neither could her owner
they had to go to work, school, or whatever
they need to do
Old torn boots
some how they are still cool so I wear them in the rain
then only to find an ocean inside
my feet an awkward human
knowing they don't belong in the rain
They tell me, "Your fulfillment is to be your husbands help mate"
That my goal in life is to simply help?
I'll still get married, and have children,
but I will do more then just help.
Me as the over used stapler,
the poorly kept kitchen tool
is not gonna cut it for me
Instead I will be the words of Solomon
the grace of Mary
the faith of Ruth
the kiss of the beloved
I...will be...his muse
I will not be a the helper
to come when called on
and put away, to be sent back to the kitchen.
"I didn't mean that..." he said retrieving his coat
that was resting on my shoulders
Protecting me from the wind and sleet coming down
I can deal with a lot in a relationship
the dates spent with you crying on my shoulder
me, constantly wiping away your tears
The ninja star you through at my picture
reassuring you I said "It wasn't my favorite picture anyway"
but when you sent me a bar of chocolate and the poem
Every day for two months, without much a word
or a minute in your company
a replacement for your heart
a gift that you retrieved
what are your words,
without your actions holding them up
You later told me "I didn't give anything in the past half year to you out of love"
what did you give it out of?
You know better then anyone
I don't need that 5 dollar chocolate, that just goes down like a weight
or the poems, long words that meant nothing, a long way of saying
here is a page with words on it for you.
because you can't tell me in person
"You mean nothing to me but a five dollar chocolate and long words on a page"
You, Are the kid whose first word was fascinating
You are the kid that is the level
of a masters in English
You are the kid that can make music
from a wall, Hitting and pounding,
sounds just as good as a drummer so why not?
We try to touch your heart
because we know there is more
Then the video games
the electronic, noisy music
We can see it in your art
against everything you can get your hands on
we can tell you are anxious
why don't you come out with it?
Hundreds of them
Of faces, all beautiful in their own way
We know you are lonely
You are the kid that picked up a paint brush for the first time
copied the contents of my painting
and made it look like a Mona Lisa
You are the kid that made more money
then his older siblings
When he was five, a little business man
You are also the kid that can listen to a fight
and ask whats for lunch right after
Don't be scared of the dark clouds over head
they are like Gods quilt over you
with its patch work pattern
And the lightning?
is the same as the light fairies you see when you lift up your quilt
Hiding, dancing, making you warm on cold nights
Don't be scared of the smashes of thunder
what are the lightning fairies to dance to?
They chase the beat of the music
They hit the right beat
and meet together
They make such a energy together
it is as if the sun kissed the earth
We shut off the lights
put our "Respect each other"
posters on the door windows.
Hidding under the desk
I was only 11
We have just been out playing
the week before
a man still in his Pajamas walked over
with a gun in his hands.
I started to walk over
thinking the gun was fake
The I heard the sirens
as I was pulled into the school
realizing I could have died
Back in the school
we sat under the desks
taking the opportunity to brush each others hair
trying to figure out what gun
the killer was using
as if it was a puzzle
to find out in the end
at only 11
I made myself a darkroom
and hid myself in it
Working with the chemicals
that harmed me
developing what I pictured
coming out of of my darkroom
holding the image with my excited hands
set it down
till someone would pass by
see what I saw as beautiful
only to hear
"what the hell is that?'