My cousin introduced us.
He says you have to try everything
at least once,
But not the expensive ones.
She never told me who her parents were.
I never got to meet her family,
but one day we crossed paths
with her white crumbling cousin
who told all about the fiery reality of her past.
Her father - hallow.
Her mother - unfiltered.
No wonder why people would always stare
as we made our way down the sidewalk.
Heads held high,
smiles drawn,
fingers braided.
Millions of glares
with gavels in full swing.
The day my grandfather passed away,
she was the first to comfort me.
She pressed her lips to mine
and told me that everything was going to be alright.
"You'll see him again one day"
She said, “I promise, I will take you there.”
You should have seen the way she looked at me.
How she would stare into the back of my throat,
claw her way into my chest,
and set up home in my lungs.
She was always there for me.
Now I know
we’ve only known each other for a few years,
but I can trace her past back to my great grandfather’s porch.
I can see her future
in the carvings she’s left inside of me.
She tells me it’s a work of art.
Well,
it does not feel like one.
-a.m.
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
Dear Grandpa,
Nanna told me all about it.
The smell of ******
smoke and screams.
Bandoliers falling in all directions
with grenades honoring the occasion.
And the story of you,
And how you became confetti.
It’s been so many years,
the smell of barbecue
smoke and laughter reign now.
Kids run in all directions
And balloons join the celebration.
March 25th is a holiday now.
Nanna always brings a million memories.
She says she has to feed them,
because if she don’t
they’ll eat her up.
So she tells us stories about you.
I heard you even fought Victor Charlie.
Musta been one gnarly son of a *****
because I heard he won.
But don’t apologize.
When I was eight, my momma
told me I should be proud of you
because you put up a fight.
When Nanna was 25,
Two slender men in uniform
made their way onto the front porch,
knocked on the door,
And told her the same thing.
She sat on the porch for years
Waiting for you.
But the Rolling Stones don’t roll no more,
crickets don’t sing,
and Nanna’s rocking chair is retired.
Your grandson likes to play on it,
But we don’t want him to break it.
He's a curious little grunt,
so I tell him stories.
“Once, your great grandpa dodged a bullet.”
I tell him
“it went right past his God **** ear.”
He stops me and asks
The same question I asked my father.
But Pa, what's faster than a bullet?
Nothin'.
-a.m
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 4:32 PM UTC
A young boy once asked me, "Does it hurt to fall in love, because whenever I fall I get hurt?" Now I didn't know how to reply to the young boy whose heart was one beat away from despair so I told him this: Be prepared for the outcome no matter what it may be. Be prepared for the consequences. Be prepared for the late nights. Be prepared to hate someone that you can't help but fall in love with every time they walk into the room. Don't be afraid to give them you're ribs; They just want to make a clearer path to your heart. Don't be afraid of losing yourself, for they know exactly where you came from and they know exactly where you are going. You see, when I was a kid, I was not prepared for heart break. There was no worksheet on how to get over an ex girlfriend. There was no puzzle teaching us how to put together the pieces of our shattered pasts. I told him that love is like a drug. Some of us are strong enough to quit while others hope for one last hit even if every spike is killing them. So I told him this: Love is reckless. So be careful with the crack of a pretty smile while walking down the sidewalk we call every day life... you wouldn't want to trip.
-a.m.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
inside this forest that consumes me
i thank god for what ever light there may be
across the darkness that fills me
i pray to god for what ever light i may see
as the sun begins to rise
my heart begins to stray
in search for the daylight skies
that may some day save the day
growing up i was never taught
of how to cut down a tree
nor was i ever taught what to do
if a forest was inside of me
-a.m
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
"What does it feel like to fall in love?"
Like every forest inside of you catching fire.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
Kiss the person who will set you on fire. It'll warm you up. Make them feel as if you're the only extinguisher in the room and show them what it feels like to burn. Show them what it feels like to have a heart blazing without anyone around to put it out. Walk up to the person whose lungs look like they're at the edge of a cliff and take their hand; Show them what it feels like to fall. No one ever warned me that the first time I fell would also be the first time I was set aflame. I want my ribs to burn until every ash courses through your veins. I want to feel it. I want to feel every flame pierce my pride and puncture my memories. I caught fire the second you looked into my eyes. I couldn't quite tell the difference between fire and butterflies at first. Although as soon as I felt your ashes in my lungs I knew I was going to be smothered. I was going to burn until every picture in my head shattered. I could feel the fire engulfing every forest inside of me. I could feel it taking the oxygen from my lungs and replacing it with the sound of your laughter. I didn't really understand what was happening until I noticed that every time you smiled I burned harder. One thing I've learned about fires is that they don't stop until they've burned everything in their path. My mother told me to hold onto the person who knows exactly where my path is leading. She told me to love the person who ignites me. The closer you get to the flame, the hotter it gets yet I blister whenever you're out of reach. Falling in love is fairly simple. It feels like catching fire.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC