You must've finally broken
when after all these years,
you just sit down and wait
for the tears to come when
even your body is done
squeezing your heart dry

You're a windy person
fall into my windows and disturb my curtains
Stir my paper
Lift them with your windy arms
Make my hair a mess
And blow sand through the mesh of my dress
Carry with you flower petals
Moisture
And scents
Oh windy person
Move someone as still and motionless as me

My heart is a messy place
I don't clean up often
My emotions lay about like worn jeans and pile up at every corner
Murky tears that were long bemoaned
Lay inside my pillowcases long after they have dried
And make heavy a light thing where my thoughts reside
Shadowy folks have  unmade beds  
Though long beparted
And declared dead
Many things that was once fresh
Have now grown brown reached their Autumn
They still roam the halls and vents
Like after tastes of mint long after the in scents have burnt
Every possible surface is stained with faces
Shelves are stacked and layered and stuffed
And though I rummage for space
There is never enough
Not for an ant
Or a hand
Or a new thing
Just room enough for me
And this big old mess of memories

Writing for the sake of pen and paper
Driven by the a page break or two
I'll beat these margins until they're ******
Purple, red, and blue
Sticky bulges of ink oozing and raw
And by the  wake of my next page
I would have hungered for more
Chasing full stops is a daily pleasure
If emptying ink, its only just so a page can be filled
But to fill this page, there wouldn't be enough paper in the world
What is the point of all my scribbles
If only just to package up tiny  pieces of reality
Points of view crawling like baby turtles
Fashioned into pieces of paper that will eventually die before reaching the sea

Hearts break as easily as little doll legs
How reckless of us to carry such a fragile belonging in our chests
And tie to it many heavy feelings
That often pull it down and stretch it to the ceiling
I wonder how it feels
To carry a cracked thing inside of your rib cage
And stuff it down behind each smile
Along with many packs of overused band aids  
How embarrassing it must be
To have to patch it up in public
Whenever the **** thing has a puncture
And leaks out over everything

How grateful I am for my untouched heart
That beats soundly in my chest without any harm
But those who lay in piles on the floor
With broken valves and countless tares
Look back up at me shaking their heads
For their hearts have felt
But mine beating but dead

Leave me
You following things
Stop sticking to my back like feathers
I am an ostrich
Stuck to the ground
I am a penguin
Slipping on the ice
I wish I could trade in these heavy wings
And sweep away these feathers
And take to the sky
Using nothing but my bare arms

A bad memory is like a nightmare
Totally unexpected
A distasteful virtual abyss
It is the good memories
With which we overcome
Randomly welcomed and savored
It is like a soulmate for life