My corset of secrets
Is growing tighter
What was once a hug
Has become a noose
Tight
Too tight
I can't
B  R  E  A  T  H  E


Where some wear their corset
For the world to see
So that others may take some of their secrets
And loosen the strings,
I hide mine beneath my skin
And instead of giving the
S  T  R  A  N  G  U  L  A  T  I  O  N
To others,
I simply try to shrink my own lungs to make room


But sometimes
When I take too deep a breath
And my corset has become just a little
Tight
Too tight
I find that it may squeeze out my blood
And make my veins twist and shriek
Until they rip free of my body
And reach for a paper


Then my veins,
Bursting with secrets too tight,
Dance across the paper and
My blood forms words that my mouth never could
And all the secrets my corset held
Are released in a flurry of pain and
P  A  S  S  I  O  N


For that corset of mine
Has become just a bit
Tight
Too tight
To escape from
So it has tattooed my body with secrets
So hard to keep
And sometimes, when I climb into bed
And my ribs are cracking
It's easier to let my blood loose
Than to shed that cursed corset


The words of red
That stain the paper,
That's what I call poetry
That's what I call art
A way for  me to cut the strings
Even if only a little bit


Poetry comes from my
V  E  I  N  S
It comes pouring from my
B  L  O  O  D
Late at night
When my corset's too tight

If you compared her to a fire
you’d find they’re much the same
Her heart too hot to touch
the fire too wild to tame


But flame moves on with time
like she could never learn
She didn’t know to fade
she only knew to burn


She watched with deadly sorrow
as that flame soon learned to fly
her grief far too heavy
to be taken by the sky


So that little ember floated
straight to the nearest star
where it forgot the girl below
for it had flown too far

She longed to join its skyward home
among the deep dark night
but it’s hard to follow ashes
when a fire is still alight

An empty room.
Two windows on either side.
I stand on the outside and peer in
And there you are, outside the other window.

There is a door.
If we meet in the middle and stand side by side we could walk in together.
The room no longer empty, we could waltz between walls and cast our sorrows on the window ledge and leave our skin in the corner
Free and mad and vulnerable

But you do not move toward the door.
Neither do I.
We are content to gaze through windows and it is all
Quite sad.

The room is still empty
And we are two fools (children, perhaps) that call what we feel love.
The gap between us does not make us itch and whine and claw at our insides

We are content to gaze through windows,
Content to admire each other from a distance,
To admire the art from behind the ropes.
But we were not made to be galleries.
We were made to be wild and vivid and too close for comfort.

What we feel is not love.
It is many things,
and it is certainly beautiful,
But it is not love.

For a friend
Who got lost in a war
And never seemed
To find his way home
Again



For an innocence
That he wore as a cloak
Until it was ripped
From his shoulders
And left to burn
Who never talked much
Until I cracked him open
And peered inside
And saw his colors
Bursting, twirling,
Beautiful beautiful beautiful



A smile that was
Seldom given away
But seldom fake
And always
Beautiful beautiful beautiful



Who first introduced himself
Without flashing lights
Or a decent conversation
Just a name
Plain and simple
Just his name



Who was there
The next week
Same place, same time
And all he said was
It’s nice to see you again
Plain and simple



But with time
He grew
And so did I
Next thing you know
He’s my brother
Who was there for deep talks at coffee shops
And late night drives
And words of wisdom
Through telephone lines
Beautiful beautiful beautiful



Who everyone thought
Had a heart of gold
But no one could touch it
Except me
When I got close
And held his heart
Which wasn’t made of gold, but something warmer than that
And I held it to the sky
For the world to see
And maybe that scared him,
But his heart just kept
Beating beating beating



Until the day it stopped
Turned cold
And bit at the hands of whoever got near
And the world took their golden boy
The boy who stood taller than the clouds
And made the room around him
Melt into a puddle of glorious peace
They took their golden boy
And left him in the waves
To drown
Drowning
Drowned



Who never fought back
As they kept
Beating
Hitting
Beating
Who stayed silent as they spilled his blood
And broke his bones
And burned his
Beautiful beautiful beautiful
Cloak of innocence
All because he was a boy
And he liked a boy



Who
The next time I tried to cradle his heart
Flinched away
And pretended he couldn’t hear me
Pleading
Crying
Please come back



Who claims he left for college
But I can still see him
Running
Running
Running



Who got lost in a war
All guns turned on him
And kept his head high
With a smile that has become
Often fake
But always
Beautiful beautiful beautiful



Who will continue to be
The boy who could make music out of shadow puppets
Magic out of a thunderstorm
And fairies out of 4th of July sparklers
Beautiful beautiful beautiful
Until he finds his way home
Again

She was a gazer of the stars
You could see it in her eyes
She'd sneak out late at night
Just to stroll beneath the skies


Her eyes forever upward
Searching for a light
Her heart only beating
When the moon came up at night


She didn't care for dirt
Or grass, or sand, or street
For only when she stumbled
Would she glance down at her feet


She watched long enough
That the light soon made her blind
And for all those who loved her,
She left them all behind


If you start falling for a gazer
She's sure to break your heart
And if you are the gazer
My dear,
Stars have an awful tendency
to tearing things apart