they took her to the doleful traitor’s gate,
where none could save her life or bring release,
along the river to a heavy fate,
no harp or dulcimer to give her peace.
the world had turned away, the tudor rose
in ruins at her feet, the fickle king,
inconstant, needing sons, the river flows
with royal blood where sorrow’s angels sing.
“to jesus i commend my soul,” she cried,
she wore damask, her mantle was ermine,  
poor cramer heard the cannon as she died,
he fell and wept, forgave her every sin.
  the strings were broken on the violin,
  that sang no more for laughing anne boleyn.

what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists

She can walk
          between
             night and day
               never letting either
                  get in her way.
She learned this trick
                     many moons ago
                                by
                     going deep within
           and never letting it show.
Her soul is innocent
her heart is pure
she’s gone through more
than most could endure.
            She’s an angel of light
                 an angel of dark
                 you never know
              what you will spark.
                      You want to hurt her?
                         Please, go ahead and try
                           she’ll be the one to show you
                                  just how well she can
                                                              f
­                                                                l­
                                                                ­  y.
                                  Her soul innocent
                    her heart pure
      but never think for one minute
that she’s not secure.
                                Say what you will
                          please, do what you must
                       but your jealousy and hatred
                             won’t waver her trust!
~

A beautiful Rose
In a field of dandelions
Not alone
Yet lonely
Forever cursed
To never belong

Slowly fading away...

It was he who'd been too busy
Picking at her petals
To realize she was beautiful
Just the way she was

It was she
Who learned to grow thorns
To keep him away

...

For it was she
Who realized
He was the darkness
That wouldn't hesitate
To crush her
Just to mold her
To his liking

...

She was a beautiful Rose
In a field of dandelions
Not alone
And still a bit lonely
Slightly cursed
To never belong
But content
To forever belong
With herself

*And that's all that mattered...

Little brown eyed girl,
With brown short ***** curls
And dark skin that you
Have not learned how to love yet.

I speak to you.

Little brown eyed girl;
Already jaded
By a world that from birth,
Has declared you unlovable
Just because you look like you.

I tell you, that is a lie.

Little brown eyed girl
With strength in your bones
And love in your heart
So much so that the little boys
All run away.

I say that any man who cannot love you as you are does not deserve you.

Do not be ashamed;
Of your dark skin,
Of your brown eyes,
Of your short ***** mud-coloured hair,
Of your thick thighs,
Of your stretch marks and scars.
Little Brown Eyed Girl
You are perfect, just as you are.

Love me the way I love you and don't leave.

Embrace the butterfly heartbeats and the waves upon waves of raw emotion,
Let them pick you up and throw you against my rocks

Don't worry I've got you, you're safe with me and
I'm safe with you.