It started out huge
picking my tiny daughter up for school on the first
of many many too many days

She would hop on
sometimes begrudgingly
hopping off always joyfully

But as she has grown
that bus has begun to shrink
and become ever so small

That bus seemed plenty big enough
for her and her giant backpack
her crayons and papers

It seemed to be just right as she
continued to board with her novels
and friends

It seems too small now
Too small to hold her and all of her
dreams and ambitions

I no longer see her on that bus
but walking through some bucolic campus
sitting under shade trees sketching

Or stepping off of a busy curb
over puddles and around cars
on her way to a gallery or show

Yes, that bus has been shrinking
and I can't stop it
but I can marvel at how it has changed

Lying in the dark
My mind begins to race

What was left undone?
What do I wish erased?

Each morning full of promises
Not all can be fulfilled

Keep moving forward
The pile on my desk tilled

Little victories
Sudden disappointments
Each day a new combination of both

I think I did my best
Try to get some rest

After all Miss Scarlet
Tomorrow's Another Day

He told me commitment was too hard
with a cigarette in his mouth
and tattoos across his skin

-h.w.

When I was little, I stuck scissors into the electrical outlet
something I never would have had the urge to do if my parents hadn't told me it was dangerous
I was a rocket pop, always standing too close to the edge,
always carrying a matchbook in my pocket

I'm not the only one who flirts with death
Death is the quarterback, death is the prettiest ******* the cheerleading team
Death is popular at parties
And when someone seems so out of my reach like that, I tend to romanticize them

So I fantasized about pills that shone like pearls
I envisioned ribs sticking out from my skeletal frame, finally frail enough to ****** the object of my desires
I thought about razor blades scattered like flower petals on the bathroom floor
Etching memento moris into my skin
I dreamed of fenders and pavement rushing up to meet my lips for one last kiss

God, I had the biggest crush on death
But so did everyone else
And I saw them falling further in love as if they were tumbling from a skyscraper
This is not a love poem, this is a goodbye
Because I have instead become infatuated with beautiful things
I am a creator, so I must stop destroying myself

Dear death
I don't want to be just another girl who doesn't look when she crosses the street, hoping to meet you on the other side
I will be okay on my own, and I'll keep the scissors locked up in the craft cabinet