The first time that Delilah saw Samson
she said to herself,
“That man will be mine.”
she said,
“Yes.”
He laughed when she first begged to bind him,
“I cannot be bound.” He declared,
“I have brought one thousand men to their knees.”
She replied, “So have I.”
and on her knees
she showed him how.
Their favorite game to play was Pagan,
he would act as sacrifice and she, the priest,
teaching him to worship
at her temple,
teaching him the best death
was deathless.
Long before she cut his hair,
she made him weak.
Long before they gouged his eyes,
he was blinded.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
You are young
and still don't understand why you should be afraid of the dark
so you venture into it.
Leave behind the crying people,
and your parents blank faces
surrounding the urn that cradles your sister's ashes.
No one has told you why she wanted to be burned so you do not ask.
You don't know this yet, but you never will.
Imagine you are chasing fairies,
it helps you to ignore the cold,
the pinch of your Sunday shoes,
the voice of your older sister whispering that you will be caught.
But you are determined to have an adventure
and so you run.
Years from now you will remember this moment,
you will swear you could feel the brush of fairy wings
against your face as you rushed away from the marble mausoleum;
but there are no trees
only dirt, only gravestones,
only bushes too high and wide
for your arms to reach around.
Run until the ground rises up,
and greets your body with a bone crushing hug.
It will not let you go, no matter how hard you struggle
or how loudly you scream.
Dirt covers your head and you fear you are being buried alive.
You are not.
This will not stop the nightmares that come later.
(You are twenty and you are speaking to your therapist
she tells you to breathe, she tells you again.)
Time passes, as time has a habit of doing,
and you are standing above ground.
You cannot feel your fingers
only the curious stares of your cousins
and the long suffering sigh from your mother
who wipes the dirt from your face, absentmindedly.
“Did you go off to play and get lost?” she asks.
“You promised you'd stay put.”
You say nothing.
“You are so beautiful. Such pretty eyes.” she says, struggling to smile,
to say words that she thinks will calm the heart clawing at your chest
the way you clawed at the walls of your grave.
You are covered in dirt. There are rocks in your shoes.
You have lost your favorite bow.
You say nothing.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
I am a tiger
pacing restlessly
behind the bars
of an open cage.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
Lately when boys talk to me they all remind me of you.
I keep opening my mouth to respond
but I can only recall the way
You managed to wordlessly
teach me that my body is deceptively
beautiful.
It is only a cage to hide
the wildness that paces
restlessly beneath my ribs.
(I am empty without it
but even more so without you.)
I have learned to pull the words
that I would say
back inside and swallow them
even though they leave my throat
so raw I can feel their barbs
every time I remind myself to breathe.
I am still reminding myself to breathe
ever since you placed your lips on mine
and took my breath away.
Give it back.
(I am suffocating.)
Come back.
( I am lonely.)
——
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
At the end of the night
you will fly to her window
and kiss her goodnight
with lips that promise
forever,
but you will be back at my side
before her window has closed;
and I will follow your
laughing blue eyes
into the night
dreading
the next person
who will use my
pixie dust
to fly into your arms
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
You are as close as I will ever come to love.
(Yet you are still
so far away
that even if I ran around
the mountain of mistakes
growing quietly
between our bodies
my regrets would reach you
before I did.)
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
I want to dream the dreams
that you have dreamt
and chase you through
your nightmares,
on bare feet,
through darkness and the forest of your memories.
(When I am close enough
I will catch your hand
in mine
and gently remind you
that soon
you will wake up
next to me.)
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
I am not a poet
and you are not a mystery.
You are a boy
with eyes too blue
to be compared to anything
but the sky
and I am just a
lonely girl
who wishes you would
stand still
long enough to see
the stars in her eyes.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC
It's 7AM
where you are
and where you are
I am not.
So time
does not matter
because its passing brings you
no closer to me
(nor me to you)
All that matters is that
I am here
and
you are there
and I am
missing you
(again).
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 10:14 AM UTC
I have a weakness for a boy
with shadows in his eyes
and fire in his throat.
When he speaks,
like a dragon,
he exhales his truth
singeing all those who dare
come close.
A knowing fool,
I dance daringly
through the flames;
aching for a glimpse
behind a mask
he doesn’t know
that he still wears.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC