The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait

~
I am summer,
    and sunshine
        mixed with
the passion of
    autumn hurricane.
       I have the
             soul of a mermaid,
                 fierceness of a lioness,
                    heart of a hippie,
                  spirit of butterflies,
              and a mouth
           I can’t always control.
        I slay, I pray
    I dream
of possibilities
      and not the
             probability.
                Call me crazy but
            I believe wishes
    come true with the
         click of my fingers
             and the flicker
               of my tongue.  
         I am bold;
a woman
       in control,
          unashamed as
                a sinful angel.
                        I am Libra.
~

If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.

blurry image, out of focus
closing in on hopeless notice
broken glow, prone to coldness
holding on to low the closest

lambent lacking, saddened blackness
lasting facts of tragic practice
shattered glass, facet blasted
passing granted hands the fastest