She didn’t know much about building houses
She had dreamt about it
And done some observing
But she had no idea about the logistics
The nitty gritties
And so when she made the decision
To build a house
She looked at the blueprints
She had drawn up
And she felt elated
She began to pour the cement
Somewhat carelessly
With inexperience and excitement
She had never built a house before
So when she began to see the cracks forming
She didn’t know what to do
She had to ignore the smaller ones
Pretend they weren’t there
So she could fix the larger
More insidious cracks
Day and night she poured cement
Into the crevices
Pouring with it her love and care
For the house
Willing it to hold
Sometimes it looked smooth for a little while
And she gained hope
But inevitably, it always cracked again
The crevices getting wider and deeper
But still she poured
She had never built a house before
She thought that every foundation
Cracked and cracked
Before it became beautiful
She thought this was part of the process
So she tried to build a house
On top of the cracked foundation
But this just caused the cracks to deepen
And the smaller cracks
Became impossible to ignore
And so
When the fragile, broken house
Finally crumbled
Her devastation
Led to regret
That she ignored the small cracks
And poured so much of herself
Into the big ones
But she learned
That starting over
Is not the same
As giving up
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
his eyes
were black holes
I was
a scientist
spending
my days
figuring out
what mysteries
lay on
the other side
his body
was a map
I was
a cartographer
tracing
my fingers
across his skin
I tried
to find
the direction
we should
go
his hands
were novels
I was
a bookworm
reading
between
the lines
willing myself
to remember
each
tantalizing
part
his mind
was a garden
I was
a peaceful visitor
careful
never to intrude
because
picked flowers
are only beautiful
until
they die
my heart
was a thin glass vase
you were
a bull
in a
China shop
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
she woke up that morning
and the layers has started to peel back again
she picked at them
exasperated and exhausted
she thought she was done transforming for now
she had just grown accustomed to this new self
she was tired from growing
looking around at the molted skin scattered around
the toxic, previously inescapable thoughts
freshly wrung from her mind
the remnants of self love rekindled
carefully tended into a warm, healthy fire again
the memories finally sorted
returned gently to their rightful place in her mind
placed gingerly in their box to accumulate dust
before she would return to them again someday
air them out with a disconnected nostalgia
that can only come with time
and that was when she felt it in her bones
a premonition
an understanding that this was reality
that change would be constant from now on
she had to ground herself in the knowledge
that it would be okay
to relieve the anxiety
of remaining in emotional purgatory
to quell the fear
that she would never feel normal again
so now
when the answers evaded her
and the newfound familiarity that she clung to
melted away with the peeling layers
she took a deep breath
and patiently kept searching
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 2:25 PM UTC
I am woman
I radiate
I am strength and depth
I am flawed
I grow
I exist
I am an enigma wrapped in secrets
I am undiscovered
I am discoverable
I want
I need
I am matter
I am protons and neutrons
I am love
I am dust
I am mortal
I hope
I breathe
I am
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
I tried to store it away
and it lost its luster
It cannot exist hidden away
It does not thrive in memory
It must be free and wild and pure
to be paradise
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
pull back the thin veneer
of pretense that obfuscates
this holiday season
profuse excuses of joy and peace
are hollow and brittle and leave
bitter proof of our lackluster compassion
expose the specter
of greed
dormant in capitalism
vestiges of a dying culture
the refuse of an apathetic
American people numb
to the trauma inflicted
by megalomaniacal leaders
consent given implicitly
in the complacency of obedient conformity
will we refuse to acknowledge
the stains on our hands this Christmas
red liquid misting our faces
bloodlust and endless war
there’s no
rhyme or reason
to these
sycophantic intonations
deafening these words of treason
in vain attempts to assuage guilt
with endless iterations
of false hopes and puny gods in
brainless trying to defy reality
we belie our true intentions
our self-serving obsessions
and inane consumption
hazes of the mundane
in suburban graves
if the greatest gift is giving itself
we won’t find solace in the holy temples
of strip malls shopping centers
and corporate retail palaces
a Friday as black as our fractured hearts
witness the death of humanity
choking out all we were
grateful for the day before
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 9:21 PM UTC
come & find me
i've left my phone plugged
into the wall because i can't feel
you breathe through your fingertips
and i can't read your lips through emoji
your belly-button doesn't look right shrouded
in 8 mega-pixel dust and i want to touch you instead
of a keyboard on a screen and tell you about my day because
even though it's written doesn't mean it's real meet me offline because
i don't want a five second snapchat victory snapshot of your panty-line
i don't want my silly romantic poetry to be re-grammed on your insta
framed against a picturesque city skyline or a stoic mountain lion
with hashtags and sexting doesn't turn me on like the sound of
your voice i can write you letters until my fingers bleed but
they always arrive seven days late and you never cry
when you cut them open with a knife and i'm not
looking for a pen pal anyway or a friend
instead i seek a mirror with glowing
teeth or an outlet to plug
into and charge
me up
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
let the sadness take over
breathe it in
let is spread to the tips of your fingers
and toes
feel it fill the spaces
between every cell
every atom of your body
you are okay
you will be okay
let the sadness run its course
then let it go
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
Hanging condescendingly above the door
She stared at the stern cuckoo clock
The minute hand silently creeping
Urging the hour hand to its destination
The second hand an evil judge
Its ticking a constant reminder
Of time’s inevitable march forward
And the journey that lay ahead of her
She wasn’t sure which one she hated more
She knew that when the small figurines
Emerged from their dark hiding place
To waltz their waltz
As they did every hour of every day
She would have to leave
And she didn’t know when she would return
And so as much as she hated the clock
It’s jolly song a mockery of her decision
She knew that ultimately leaving was her choice
And that she would miss the **** cuckoo clock
Hanging condescendingly above the door
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
they say when you turn 22
there are all new cells in your body
the ones from birth, all of them
have been replaced
you adapt and are made new
maybe that’s why this part
of my life has been so chaotic
out of control and confused
unsure whether it yearns for the past
lives for the present
or anxiously, excitedly
awaits the future
because the last baby cells are dying
and their time is up
and the rest of me doesn’t know
if it’s ready for that
quite yet
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC