My life, she said, is so akin
To a twisted, knotted piece of yarn
Tied around an unknown object
Hanging from a broken limb
Blown by whirling, dusty wind
That never ever makes a sound.
                           ljm

I carry a mask in my purse
for special occasions.
Turns out
wherever there’s people
there:
occasion

People always talk about being a perfect match
But nobody ever talks about how abruptly matches burn out

How big must my megaphone be
For you to hear me?

i can’t write about what it feels like
to run my fingers through your hair
or feel your hands on my skin
(no matter how much i want to)
i can’t speak to the softness of your lips
or what it sounds like
when you whisper my name
(no matter how much i want to)
i don’t know what the skin on your hips
feels like after you’ve showered
or what it’s like to wake up
to your breath on my shoulder
(no matter how much i want to)
i can’t write about the feeling
of our skin
soft and rough
holding hands
(oh god, i want to)
i can’t write about you
in anything other than the abstract
no
matter
how
much
i
want
to

A heart of stone
A girl alone

You came along,
You broke up the rock
It took time but
Slowly
It became soil

You were gentle
You were sweet
You grew a garden
It took time but
Slowly
It became flowers

You were lying
You were cruel
You left the garden
It took time but
Slowly
The flowers died

You were gone
I was lost
The garden was forgotten
It took time but
Slowly
The dirt turned to dust

A heart of dust
A lack of trust

We’re not all on the same dose of love, you know
Some people need it more than others
And some have learned to live with less