Let my ******* be your soft pillow,
my green eyes your emerald riches.
Arms that build up spirits and characters
for fantasies of how you want me laid.

Down in my light pink silk sets and soft
pure velvet skins - ask me for the keys.
Plenty for one small stern lock,
but you always end up breaking it open.

Our jacaranda tree waves
with eastern movements,
and fast September shifts.

Teaching my temples
to hold on for moments -
months of abrupt melancholies
and state-less depressions.

Pouring worser shades on
brighter faster mornings.
I find my pieces in what I’ve known

All along -
an unhinged gate
to a fortress of starving pansies
overgrown and unloved.

Keeping my time full,
and my heart fuller.
Grass greener, taste sweeter.
Summer sambas and
shining webs of old pleasures.
I have taken strangers dancing,
and met the suns eternal wave.
Taking on a new me -
high risk, high reward,
and everything to gain.

A single silver diamond
hangs from my neck,
as a reminder that I have been
building myself to last.

I have built me from nothing,
but bold words and raw emotions,
laid out like cards I keep getting dealt.

I have been mistakenly honest,
perfectly wrong, and dreadfully me.
All to benefit the terrible good
you keep on feeding me.

Succumbing to willful devotions,
heavenly honours, and beautiful
crystals.
I have loved me far longer, and
far stronger.
Than I could ever love you
my green emerald.

At twelve I am the storm.
The three second delay
between thunder and lightening -
never really knowing which is closer.

At one I am the moon.
Witness to slow decaying stars
already laid to rest -
shining still and silently.

At two I am the winds.
Hallowing grey movements
sliding between each other -
never going the right direction.

At three I am the trees.
Dancing petals of soft memory,
delicate to gravel, food for though -
and home to lonely sleeping crows.

At four I am the heat.
Sticking to skins and foreheads,
rising above the sidewalks -
causing mirages to those too far.

At five I am the sun.
Giving light for the moons glow,
giving food for the trees growth,
warming up the earth - for you?

I’m not the girl you kiss on a New Years Eve.

I’m not the girl next door, just across the street.

I’m not the girl who pretends that they think you’re funny.

I’m not the girl that runs or pretends that they’re neat.

I’m not the girl that tells you what you’re suppose to say.

I’m not the girl that knows that their hot, okay?

I’m not the girl that thinks they’re good at your sport.

I’m not the girl that pretends that you’re only a joke.

I’m not the girl to say yes just because of how you’re feeling.

I’m not the girl who conceals everything they’re really meaning.

I’m not the girl who sits low when you raise your voice.

I’m not the girl who thinks that they have no choice.

I’m not the girl who’s funny, docile, and sweet.

I’m not the girl that collects pointless expensive jewelry.

I’m not the girl who lives off their parents dime.

I’m not the girl to tell you how to live your life.

I’m not the girl to leave you if you had no money.

I’m not the girl to eat kale salads with hungry.

I’m not the girl to hold your past like a knife to the back.

I’m not the girl that doesn’t know what kind of power she has.

I’m not the girl to reveal all the tricks up her sleeves.

Actually, here’s the trick...

I’m not the girl.

I’m the beast.

I am my grandmother tense,
and my mother frantic.
My grandfather suspicious,
and my father hot headed.
I am my brothers manic,
and my cousin confused.
But in the very end -
we are what we choose.