I can give my affection to someone.
He hasn't arrived yet.
It's still the blonde hair
I dream of running my hand through.
As the year's changes stop spinning
out of control, I reflect and hope
the new 365 days
will get me over you and onto
someone new.

Do not give to those who only seem to take.
One day you will want something in exchange.
(They will be unable to provide.)
You'll be left stripped bare, to the bone
while they hoard what you want most,
whether it's the muscle in your chest
or your secrets that they kept.

I ruined you.
I touched your skin,
it burned right through.
Took from you
what you won't get back,
from the first moment
I kissed your lips in bed,
to the last fight at
the summer's end.
No one will take back
two years for you.
Dark greens sear straight through your blues
as you eye me once more
through a changed view.

We pretend to be adults making consensual decisions.
Yet there is the underlying question:
What will our friends think?
The truth is that
They won't think a thing if you
don't tell them anything.

we only see the black and blue
bruises that each of us made
on the other's skin.

we are both filled with shame
until the clothes come off.

was it a moment of weakness
or momentary bliss?

(Words taken and rearranged from an article off CNN.)


These neighborhoods in
St. Louis are on edge.
One bullet in the face.
Witnesses heard him say,
“Stop, stop. Don’t shoot.”
A police officer committed a crime.
The officer thought
One of them had a hand gun.
She had lost a son.
He was 18, just like Michael Brown.
He was a young black man
killed by a white police officer.

I keep dreaming of running my hand
along the nape of your neck
and into your hair.

I could be good for you
but you're too self-aware
of what could go wrong
when you let me back in