I’m avoiding the root
Digging around the problem.
It’s deep
Pulling sprouts of new issues
As they crop up
Putting on a pretty face
In sadness

I have half of an art degree

Plus eighteen years of experience in making a house into a home

I can dance interpretively
to the music in my head

And organize chaos into neat little rows

Who in their right mind would ever want to walk away
from this dreamhouse in the forest?

Is my mind right?

The mothers and sisters all say to me
girl, settle on down

How important is it to feel profoundly fulfilled?

Fantasizing relentlessly
depletes my energy

It’s just more exciting than rocking chairs

So I continue to do it to myself

I love you too,
I don’t say.
Stumbling barefoot in the dusty grass
I stare down at my toes.
Solely dependent
The current situation I cling to
Chopping off my hands and feet and hair
I contort myself in order to fit.
Flexibility has always served me well
Lopping off the branches, limbs, twigs
of the mother tree
I stuff it all down

If I show myself more love
I won’t need it from you
Now I remember
The steps to take
To make it across the floor
Practicing beautiful extensions,
Positive Intentions.
Breathing again
I feel alive
Instead of alone
How simple it is
This balance.
Muscle memory
I know how to keep myself upright
It just takes practice.

We must travel in this direction in order to make our way home.
Through the cloud of putrid stench that hangs around the Water treatment plant.
Past the places we threw our love away
like floppy old winter hats on the interstate.
Repeatedly Submitting to truck tires.
Rising up for a moment in the rush of wind
Longing to be set free,
Only to succumb to the crushing weight and the grind of the pavement again.

I don’t know how to help you
All I know is how to keep things clean
With the smell of marigolds on my hands
From ripping up last summer’s show
I yearn for the cool dampness of earth
on my bare feet
I fantasize of dancing alone
Yet with each day dawning
I step into these well worn shoes
And put one foot in front of the other

Substances,
I can use them to fill me up.
Red wine and smoke rings
Soften the edges
Of the shattered pieces
I carry around Inside.
Ousted From the doldrums.
Only a slight yellowing
Is left behind.
A squeeze of lemon
Will fade it out in the sunlight
For all these years
Of living this life,
I’ve gained
Knowledge,
Expertise
Of evidence removal.

I should have given it to someone else.
shared the warmth,
passed it on

But I couldn’t let anyone else inside
Acting Impulsively...
Familiar.
Tendencies.

I hacked off one arm at a time
surgical scissors gutting the seams
Knit from the finest fibers

Golden angora
Gleaming boastfully
Slumped in the corner, the body of that beauty.

I stuffed it down, down, down
Then threw it out.
Ridding myself of anything, everything
reminiscent of the time of brown eyes

I brushed against you twice
Played it off
As of it were by accident
We both know
It was purely
Intentional

You’ll see me up there
Again this summer
Just don’t expect me to be broken
I am healthier now
But I’m still fun

I won’t be your little ice cream cone
Dripping with sticky sweetness
You can’t hold me in your hand
Melting vanilla in the sun

We can be neighbors, we can be friends
Sip cheap Mexican beer from cans
I’ll even juice the lime

There will be giggling, and lively banter
You’ll probably try to look down my shirt and I will not mind

That is where we’ll draw the line,
Healthy boundaries
of summertime

Contents crumble
stuffed to the seams
drape myself in pretty charms
behind the facade
I'm still me

I have thrown so much pain into this river
Watched it sink to the bottom to corrode

Like that overturned car with a tree growing up through the rust
Nobody cared enough to remove her?

All the vital fluids swept away in the current over thirty years ago.
Intoxicating the environment.
But Mother Nature took root
In Attempt to reclaim her own life.

My view is different nowadays.

Gazing downstream
It Bubbles up occasionally
Leaving Ripples,
Raindrops, Reminders

But so much of my past is cast away
Sunken, settled deep in the mud
In this polluted river that holds so much of my heart

Obligatory smiles for the family portraits
Baring our teeth

Behind closed doors
We are damaged goods
Our delicate parts are torn to shreds

Sacred promises shattered
Like the wine glass you hurled at the wall
Leaving a bloodstain that we painted over

We both have gaping holes in our hearts
Secrets in the pits of our stomachs
***** dungeon basements
cobwebs in our minds

Tarnished silver, chipped porcelain
Once precious
Love candles burned down to waxy stumps with exhausted wicks

Our fingertips are blackened from attempting to relight the flame

We could wash off the soot
And walk away
Or continue to live without light

High on validation,
Slick,
Sick.
Adrenaline
Addiction
Guilt stricken,
Low of Depression
Grips.

You are hedges
I am bramble
You are a button down-buttoned up
I am a sundress with no ******
You are Monday
I am the full moon
You are toast
I am olives and mushrooms
You are the riverbed
I am the babbling stream
Rolling over you incessantly
You retreat,
I attack
You are grass
I am chicory, clover, daisies
You are khakis
I am holey jeans
You are kindness,
I am instinct
You show up early
I come home late
You are Monday
I am the full moon
You are leather trimmed comfort
I am humid nights spent tossing
You keep both hands on the wheel
I dance mine in the wind
You are roots, deeply anchored
trunk straight and proud
I am light and airy
treetops blowing in the breeze

You and I cannot be friends
And yet,
Here we go again.
Staying up until two
Breathing into the phone.

Tiptoeing around a full blown affair

Enchanted by the soft, hazy glow of the night sky. The tree frog’s chorus.

The tug of Loneliness on our hearts
Choosing
Adventure over dying on the vine.

Lying and gazing,
Laughter and lazing,
Slippery fingers and broken pieces
Delicious tension.

You stay in your bed, your life
And I lie in mine.

You and I cannot be friends.

Don’t even think you’re getting
out of here alive.
.
Well, nobody does so we should seek pleasure.
.
What’s living
without the intoxicating
grip of lust?
.
A wellspring of despair.
.
Spilt me open with your tongue.
.
I’m trauma.
Wrapped in Ivory lace
with a citrus twist
.
Enter into this new realm
Of endless possibilities
And sufferings.
.
A wellspring of delight.

If only you would’ve read my writing,
Perhaps you could’ve seen
The emptiness inside of me.
But you didn’t care enough to look
Closely.
Should’ve would’ve could’ve
Didn’t