You'll be fighting your monsters
til you're six feet in your grave.
I know you, you're strong
still it's hard not to cave.

Sometimes in summer
it's easy to forget
that the war is still going
when the battle resets.

Inside, in the dark,
where the flowers can't reach
They see it's their time
to attach and leech.

Lay low, wait til morning
and remember you're loved
when fuzzy little monsters
Return with boxing gloves.

Gifts from my mother
Were paper cuts from packages
That twinged and throbbed.
Beautiful bows in colorful patterns created a corset to not be removed.
Ribbons formed webs inside my chest.
They trap guilt, dread, and shame.
Now you give me a band-aid, scissors, and kisses.
And I know I'm enough.

A patient spider's
Woven web will hold the willful winner,
Of a game played, for the heart
Of the silk spinning spinster.

He will woo the widow
On her perch in the window,
To be warmly welcomed in.
Would the suitor sharply shudder,
To know he should so soon be dead?

The spider's special someone
Will stroll sweetly to his Miss.
He will taste her sprinkled sugar lips
With a first and final kiss.

I've been thinking of the thump of your heart.
Small quick beats against the side of my cheek.
I can feel it when we sleep. And when we laugh. When you kiss me.

You've taught me hearts have stood still while mine was dancing,
And now I won't dance alone.
We have four left feet,
But tripping precedes a fall.

Two quivers from me match two from you.
Your heart beats greet mine.
You whisper words of affection, without saying a thing.
Silent perfection.

I thought her mind, her chemistry would take her away.
I've been prepared since
My volleyball game in 10th grade.

They told me about the pills she swallowed.
How they pumped her stomach.
The stomach that I became a person in.

Years later I still can't be sure
which messenger I'll have to shoot.
I dream of phones ringing
to tell me the news.

Still, she's promised,
She will always be my mom.
She will be at my wedding.
And she will work on what's wrong.

Now what they call God
Spits in my face,
Pulls out the rug,
and watches me brace.

But this time it isn't her choice.
This time I don't know
What to feel.

Sadness
Then what is that, laughter?
Bubbling up and out of my lips?

"They gave me four to ten years."

They gave years to her
and she took them.
She's taking them!

Four to ten years of mornings?
It's a guarantee I've never had.
Four to ten years I'd be mourning.
Instead I'm secure and not sad.

I'm not single, but I'm alone.

I had this dream
That I was still in love.
That your arm is around me
While we sleep.
That nothing hurts because
You believe in me.
Everything I do makes you proud.
I don't worry about the painful ****
my mother drenched me in
when I was hers to take care of.
Now you have me.

Then I had to wake the **** up.

And roll to the side.
And we weren't at home.
We was just me.
And I cried.
I had to remember that
What I felt you felt
Fell short of the truth.
That you were never sure
I guess.
And as much as I want you,
And as much as I want to,
I still can't feel secure.

Tiny paws thud over to a food dish.
Crunch crunch crunch
Half asleep, a grin spreads across my face.
Little chirps meet my ears
Before I feel the bed shift
Under the smallest amount of weight.
The pitch of her purr makes my heart feel at peace.
I open my eyes as she climbs onto my chest
And rubs a furry little face against my neck.
The little ball of fluff settles in and
We fall asleep.

I wonder what he thought of me
When I was 9 years old.
My two sisters and I running around
Excited to meet someone Mom brought home

I wonder if he knew then
What he would take from my family,
From me.
I wonder if he knew then
The wedges he would place when he tried
To make we.

I wonder how long it took him
to choose.
My older sister never liked him.
My younger sister was 4.
I guess it could have been worse.
It could've been her he had coerced.

When he coached my volleyball team
And insisted it was indecent
For underage girls to wear
spandex uniforms I thought
"how nice it is for him to care."
I wonder, was he concerned for me
Or protecting my delicious modesty?

When he followed me up to my room
After my showers
Was he waiting outside the door
Like he said,
or was he waiting
for the day he would waltz right in?

When he stayed up
Talking to me at night
We weren't good friends,
Best friends.
We were predator and prey.
He was trying to make me see
That him and me would be okay.

That my mother didn't care.
That my sisters weren't worthy.
That my friends could never understand.
He wanted me to know
that I was alone,
And he understood.
We were the same.

In the same breath
He would call me his kid
Then tell me how grown I'd gotten.
How smart, beautiful, honest.
My mother apparently forgotten.

Then there were hands.
And cameras.
Then silence.

"It will be 2 or 3 weeks before there is any change."

I doubt these will help at all.
This pit in my chest, it won't ever be gone.
Depression can't be cured. Or that's what I heard.
I've felt bad for so long, would feeling okay just feel wrong?

I was sitting on a bench, reading a book
Smiling
To myself. No one was watching.
I was smiling for me, naturally.

The change creeped up slowly.
So slow I almost didn't know.
I'm suddenly crying, confused
Thankful!
I didn't think I would ever again
See how bright the sun had been.
Notice how nice the breeze felt against my skin.

A tiny change, some pills a day
changed my life in a meaningful way.
I promise you, I'm not happy all the time. But I feel all emotion
Instead of constant inner commotion.

Thank you. Thank you.
Thank me. I could have ended it, I almost did twice. But right now,
Living feels nice.

He lays me down
For the first time
And kisses me gently.
His hand moves gingerly
Down my side.
He does his best to
Keep eye contact
while I'm naked under him.

I feel appreciated,
Respected,
Cared for.

I can tell I can open up to him
About what I'd really like
In this bed...

I want those tender lips
To part against my neck
And hips.
I want those gentle hands
Clasped tightly around my wrists.
I want his anxious eyes
To explore his lust with me.

And then I want him
To give in
To take me

Pull me
Grab me
Bite me
Scratch me
Pin me
**** me

I'll tell him its okay to pull my hair
And show him the best way to do it.
I'll tell him its even better with bruises
Tied down, blind-folded.
I'll be dripping with sweat
While you drip wax. And
I'll be soaking wet.

But we've only been dating for a month. Guess I'll keep secrets
Until they won't scare him off.

My soulmate died


Before we ever met


That's why I feel like this

The first time I tried strumming strings
I cried and cried
I felt I couldn't get clean.

My friends tell me I need to practice;
find out if I'm a harp or a horn.
But as much as I tried
I ended up torn.

It wasn't wrong to develop an interest,
so I put myself out there, I couldn't rest.
I imagined the jungle, the tundra, the sea
But these different rhythms weren't for me.

I'll never forget when I met the musician.
He showed me a song in his room.
Finally, It washed over me!
Va Va Voom

He showed me his
and he showed me mine.
It was new and confusing,
exotic, frightening
absolutely, perfectly enlightening.

I am full of bass,
brass and strength!
I spent too long
trying to epitomize grace.

He taught me a wild, improvised tune
but I can't remember!
What he played that June.

Please forgive me

Forgive me

Give me

Me.

Ever been so in love you cant sleep? The idea of ending a conversation with the person beside you is incredibly sad. You want to know every thought and feeling theyve had throughout their day. Are they growing? Have they been challenged? Do they need your love or comfort? And there is something beautiful about the way they listen. They show you a different side to your own thoughts. And they are proud of your growth too. Theres no way to show them exactly what they mean to you. But I hope to god they understand anyway.

Even when the conversation is over, your person is so beautiful when they sleep. You cant help but be glad that in this crazy world, there is a few hours of peace and rest to protect this one. A time that separates the nasty events of the past day, and offers a new beginning when they wake. Every new day is another chance for the world to see their light.

And in the time before I fall asleep, I can fully appreciate him. Im glad I didnt miss this moment.

My fear induced sweat
Smells like malt liquor.
I hide in something sickly sweet
I got from Smile Gas.
It makes sense.
I rinse away
the evil I feel.
The world poured so much in.
It pours,
so I have to.

Finding stolen jackets in my room
catches me off-guard
"Oh! hello cozy reminder of
the boy that toyed with my heart.
I forgot I stuffed you
in this corner of my drawer..."



I don't want them, really.
But I can't bring myself to throw them away.
Or give them back.
I know I should keep them.
These were priceless at one point;
they feel like intruders in my life now.



But sometimes it snows.

Then I can see the warmth those reminders
once provided.
I pull on layers of memories
to have a snowball fight
with my sisters.
I reuse. I reframe.

Which is all we can do
With relics of our pain.

We apply what we've learned,
From pain, to our lives;
We wear these lessons
Like jackets.
We grow.
Pain is only a teacher
that can aid us now

if we let it.

I can't remember what its like
To get to know someone.
Tricky to trust that
Guys gazing
tell truths.
Pretty words have never mattered.
I knew to ignore them,
But now I fear them.
Where did the process go?
Were there steps to this
that I simply forgot?
Or was I too free with all of me
And that's why I got hurt?

I'm impatient.
And restless.
Something good should have happened.
I can't predict tomorrow,
So I hate today.
Yesterday hurt.
Along with the day before that.
I'm not haunted, or dramatically morose.
But I'm waiting.
Every day.
And every day feels the same.
The faces and scenarios are different.
Maybe these memories will
Seem important or joyful
In 7 years.
Right now I don't feel them though.
Changes don't rock me.
I'm not afraid of happiness or pain,
Just the same.

Keep in touch, you say as you
Move your hands away from me.
I'm freezing in my core.
Its snowing here, but my face is hot. Embarrassed-- alone.
I have too many bills for my pay,
And I know how too many pills taste.

But I was getting better.
Not daydreaming of hanging
Just hanging on your words.
Safe and warm.
But that place isn't here anymore.
And its not going to be forced back.

I'll get there again. When its time.
I need to go inside.

You stay honest and quiet in these soft moments with me,
But walls go up when it rains too hard.

Soft moments are hidden,
they must be lived in fear. By cowards.

No. They are the bravest moments we have.
Vulnerability is forged here. But here it could be broken.

One of the first looked soft, but was prickly to touch.
He must have been an illusionist,
My dandelion was a small cactus.
What I know now, I don't regret learning the hard way.

Be vulnerable anyway. And learn softness when it rains.
Intimacy through truth will free us
from a hard world.

When I was 16 I ran from more monsters than I ever did when I was young. Well..younger. At 16 years old I was still a child.

At 8 years old I loved ghost stories. Mysteries. ****** doo, goosebumps. I was sure I was going to be a forensic scientist just like I saw on CSI.

At 16 I was taught to see shadows on the faces of strangers. Danger flickered behind the eyes of the people I knew I could trust. That I knew I should trust.

Staying in bed never helped, but some days it was all I could do. Nightmares entered every hour of my restless sleep. No episode of NCIS could stir up as much fear as a face I've tried to forget.

At 20 years old I'm still afraid. Silently and with a smile. A similar face or frame reminds me of the blur of memories that took a brave little girl and forced her to be a terrified woman.