when I was a little girl
my mother always said
"a boy is only mean when he likes you"

after all these years
maybe that is why
I cut and burn and bruise

I am loving myself
the only way I know how
in the way my mother taught

Ten steps.
Sitting on the staircase.

The night before/
I wrote something about you.
You.
I mumbled your name with the words, 'I need to let go of you'

Burnt my journals and turn it to ashes.
All the words I offered for you,
Are now invisible in everyone's eyes.

I'm crying myself on the pillow that keeps me accompanied every night and day.

Last night was the last time.
Last night was the night I forgave you.
Last night was the night I Held my heart. It was crumpling like a scratch paper.
Last night was the night I told myself 'heart, stop hurting. Stop waiting. He's not coming back'.

I wished last night/
'Fate. Can you please stay me away from him. Im begging you not to make our eyes meet. Please'

The morning after/
Ten steps.
Sitting on the staircase.

Ten steps.
Me and Him.
So near yet so far

Unknown direction, the stroke of his hair.
Innocent smile.
The forming thin line, his lips.
Looking down.
Yes, he's socially awkward.  

Good morning Fate/
I just want to ask you. What are you trying to say?

Now/
I'm hurting. I'm waiting.  

Fate, Make him look up, make our Eyes meet? Please.

I have been gone so long
I forgot what it's like to live at home
So I stay inside
Watch the world walk by

All the people pass
On their way to work or class
I don't know
I feel that's someplace I should go

Once I was part of the race
Now I feel out of place
It seems this community
Has forgotten me

I want to laugh and shout
While I stay inside looking out
But I'll sit in silence
And watch from my self inflicted island

who knows which hour it starts,
which minute, rhyme or reason.
breaking of rules,        our hearts
open.                         split a season.

on spring,                 slight chance,
light            or prayers can change.
sons      move in a prouder stance,
yet others rage.

black bird sings   early
the same bird calls late.
sense that nearby
one year came straight.
spring slides. the
moon draws tides.



sbm.

not even words can describe
the mess you make of me
with just one glance
one smile
one laugh

Some people die in Texas.
Some people die in Spain.
Some people die in their sleep.
Some people die in pain.

We were all in love with trauma.
We were all in love with the same
ideas we projected onto people
and disguised with their name.

I don't live in nine-eleven-land
and neither do my peers.
I've been monitored by other people's Gods
for twenty-two ******* years.
Coffee pots and cigarettes
stimulate my day
and keep the thoughts streaming,
that eventually fade away.

Some people die in Utah.
Some people die in Prague.
Some people never get married
or have the family dog.

We were all in love with status.
We were all in love with goals
that would make life poignant
and make ourselves whole.

I don't subscribe to the thought
that my thoughts necessarily matter.
If life is a horror movie,
then I'm the fake blood splatter.
Bible thumps and dead eyes,
are all part of my design,
and how I live and where I die
means to separate my mind.