i was born in raining flowers
surrounded by melodies
and magic characters

i was born into love
with hands holding
reassuring touches

i was brought to a swimming pool
with long tangled hair
a blanket of safety for us.

but
i was then taken
to a red sandbox

the rain, so important
had to go
and i was sparse here too.

ill admit, sometimes i was lucky
because twice water filled the sandbox.
except it was stained red from the sediment

and i was left feeling grit on my skin.

but then
i was returned-
not to the raining flowers

to somewhere else
where there is wisdom in the grass
and the rain is gentle and clean

and i need this place
even if i am just
condensation on a cold glass

the rain is still within me

flatten your tongue
slip it between your teeth

n.

your little lips
forming an elipsis

o.

put them together
and may you declare
a word you’d so carefully deny—
no.

you spell it out
on table tops
shout it
from the rooftops

and when cursed hands
seek to defile your shrine
may you exclaim
"i am mine"

Swirling stardust
converging at one concentrated point
blues, purples, reds
colors of every shade
infinite space
filled will infinite possibilities
undiscovered, uncharted
waiting...
waiting to be found
an infinity of stars
waiting in your eyes

bound by the sky and tied to the ocean
my soul clings to the freedom of blue
blue waves; blue heavens
i wish to soar
i wish to dive
i wish to breathe under the suffocating embrace of water
i wish to breathe above the kitten-soft clouds
my heart only loves the way my body glides through the pool
and the endless expanse of earth beneath me as i fly
i am made for something other than earth.

I used to be terrified
Of fleeting shadows
And moonlight patches
The dark swirling around my feet
And the creaking house whispering dreams
But now I switch off the light
Long before I'm beneath the covers
And ask that the monster grab my feet
Reach from underneath my bed
And pull me under
Because that monster
Any monster
Is better than the one in my head.

Hell hath no fury
Like a brilliant woman scorned
It is best to run

Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.

The beautiful roof above my head,
The window to unseen worlds,
The proof that I'm not mad,
The proof I'll heal my wounds.

Shining bright in my direction,
Fading out in their place,
My eyes are blind to their perfection,
After all - how big is Space?

So I'll watch them through my window,
Not afraid of the dark,
Trying to count them by their mysterious glow,
Trying to catch the spark.