My childhood has been erased from the walls
And replaced with pillows just for decoration
And spotless carpets, with no sign of spilled drinks
All the "I Love You" notes are now packed in boxes
The only way out is through the closet
Where there lies an old refrigerator box
Shoved far into the back and out of sight
Funny how my time machine has lost its glow
On the back of the box, someone left me a note
"Remember, I am a Time Machine, Kara," it said
I wondered who the note was from
Until I saw it was signed with my own hand.
The child is never gone until you let it slip away
From the ever so gentle hold is has on your sweater
Reminding you to see the world in brighter colors
The colors of neon sidewalk chalk.
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 7:24 AM UTC
You are entitled, they say
I asked for too much on christmas.
I asked for time, and wished for difference.
She stands on stilts and judges outsiders
This is all for you, she claims
From behind the shattered window pain.
I gave birth to you, she says.
You are an adult.
Scratch that.
You are a child.
Strikethrough.
You are a burden.
I am crippled without her
I am broken when she's near
She doesn't want to hear
She's too far gone.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 11:42 PM UTC
Dear Christmas,
You have left me with tears
Too many times before.
Reminding me that I am a nomad.
A wanderer.
Pushed out of the nest to fall to the unforgiving ground,
Crushing my beak.
You have laid me on velvet
and ripped it from under me.
You have burnt my desire
and suctioned any leap of excitement from my stomach
You have crushed me with ex lovers
Draped me with winter scarves
when I am going to the tropics.
Covered me in a blanket of snow
falling all over my natural being.
I am not entitled to happiness today.
I am elected as a fool.
And stomped upon, turning my soul inside out.
My grandmother would turn in he grave,
Knowing you live the way you do.
Christmas, where is the joy?
Why can't I be in the city,
Feeding the homeless turkey and pie?
But instead I am mourning over a scarf.
Who have I become?
And who are you?
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 6:02 PM UTC
I never knew how to fit you into a poem.
Because for you, words are felt like knives or hot tubs.
We both live in fantasy, where romance exists.
But at the same time, you are logical and honest as a compass.
And I always said I preferred metaphors to similes.
I always described my ex lovers as having a face
shaped like an hour glass.
But with you, I can't see the sand falling, or the time ending.
I see your eyes genuine and filled with passion for success.
You wonder how it will all fall into place.
It will. It always does.
You are the train I was waiting to take,
out of my cyclic masochistic nature
Into a world of senseless sense,
fantasy and logic
and cartoons in real life form.
You are the ocean;
We are the ocean,
Filled with possibilities.
I have always said that the ocean
is where I belong.
Even when you need solitude
to think and write and believe.
I will always be here for you.
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 5:45 PM UTC
Too many holes, he said,
Referring to my ears.
Or perhaps my chest.
Thumping, squeezing blood faster
and faster.
Raging, thump, hatred, thump
Air escapes my lips but the words
too evil to be spoken.
So my eyes are driven into the seams of the carpet.
Only one little boy knows about the airplane
That will take me to a land unknown
Where it is okay to believe in mermaids.
And romance.
Where it is okay to pull the scarves
out of the hole in my chest
faster and faster I pull and pull
until all I am left with is me.
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
Lets get high together
off of dice and shrimp scampi
while the rain runs down the glass
and reminds us of the ocean
They say that eighty percent of the ocean
is still unexplored.
Trapped in small crevices
are mermaids who sing of love
I want to meander through its darkest
and deepest; where blue turns black
I want to see the tears of small creatures
who have never seen the sun
And then I wakeup to a heartbeat
Of a ship I know will never be abandoned
In the branches of his neck
I mend all the pieces.
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 9:16 PM UTC
You like to pretend she's me, don't you Miss December?
When you watch the dice fall from her hands like they’re broken
Or when you accidently call my name down the abandoned streets,
But realize I have fallen off the map?
Miss December, do you remember watching me cry over girls in green and white?
Do you remember me tossing my textbooks down the hallway like Frisbees,
Only to have you chase me to the nearest empty corner?
My eyes would shutter like paper, and I would ask you to turn the page.
Do you notice the scars left on your ankle after a humid day?
Miss December, do you remember the days I spend mending your wounds?
Only to realize you were too broken and shattered for one woman to heal.
As if lightning through your temporal lobe would be the only escape to sanity.
I held your hand through dying dogs and relapse.
I told you, you could do anything.
Did I push you too hard and shatter the last glass?
Is that why you turned the purple car away that day?
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 2:53 PM UTC
For once in always
Nobody is home
And I rummage deeper
And deeper
Into the depths of the paper stacks
Crumpled notes smeared with blood
From broken hearts
Letters of apology stained
With lie after lie after lie
They stabbed her in the chest
Like martyrs for love
But they ever so slowly
Killed her.
She didn’t eat a lot.
She didn’t have the words
To say, “I’m afraid you’ll leave”
Until now
When she leaves him.
Years after he pushes her children
Poisons her soul with words foul
Enough to eliminate it
And after she scraped my teenage life
From the sidewalk she said
Know this: it was never your fault.
And she left him.
Erased from memory as if he never happened
Crumped notes in my room
Stained with Rubinoff and milky pens
Shoved in shoe boxes
For the next me to find one day
In the paper stacks
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 3:30 PM UTC
Terrified you will be another one
just another one
who doesn't call
or leaves me trapped
behind my own closed doors
just waiting for you
to open them.
They have been closed for centuries.
I learned
to stop waiting
when I was seven.
let downs are more
painful than any burn.
the flick of a match.
a scarring wound.
When he didn't show up
to my birthday party.
birthday parties are dumb, he said.
but it would have meant
everything
if he came.
Don't be the one
who pushes me down
head to pavement
a breath I can't catch
soccer ball to stomach
leaving me with words upon words
that I can't say.
You said I should open my doors
Let me in, you said.
I told you my locks are broken.
I tried to explain to you
the depths of these doors
and the patterns of their locks.
And somehow I have let you in
just a foot.
And you scurried for the inner most treasures
caressing them, tenderly.
May 31, 2011
May 31, 2011 at 4:50 PM UTC
Void.
Empty.
Lifeless.
Most importantly, misunderstood.
By who?
You.
Me.
Today I witnessed
Betrayal.
By who?
The world when it rains for days.
Myself when I turn my back on others.
Never will I be good enough.
For who?
you?
No.
Me.
I've been caught in Charlotte's web.
Trapped between a fog covered window,
and a spider.
In an abandoned house.
Abandoned by who?
Him.
Her.
Their names written in dust.
My name sealed across their lips.
As they travel far away from here,
on an empty boat.
May 19, 2011
May 19, 2011 at 9:07 AM UTC