"You're so beautiful,"
says
Mr. You-Deserve-Better.
His friend,
Joe I-Can-Be-Different,
nods in agreement.
I'm just Miss Single-20-Something
searching for companionship
finding nothing
but the company
of every one-track-minder
in the Greater Portland Area.
I've been promised the moon,
stars,
a few planets here
or there.
Receiving just grunted approvals
from two-pump chumps
with over-active sweat glands.
So excuse the skepticism
clouding my judgement
as I roll all man kind
into one conclusion:
You all bark like dogs.
If he acts like one,
and smells like one,
I'd say Bingo
is his
name-o.
Just save it.
This Jenny has been around the block.
Your flowers will die.
Your chocolates will go to my hips.
For now,
your name is Mud,
and you can call me Miss Independent.

To Nick, Love ******

Don’t grow old.
Don’t leave behind your
skinned knees,
chubby cheeks,
and toothless
chocolatey grin.
Don’t grow old.
Don’t forget that nothing is too big
to fit inside your pocket
and to forget about for awhile
(like your crayons.)
Don’t grow old.
Make time to pretend
the floor is covered in lava
and the only way to be saved
are the throw pillows from your couch.
Don’t grow old.
Remember playtime,
and naptime,
and snack time.
Retain your sense of wonder,
feel free to proudly display blankie,
and keep that childlike beauty you wear so well.
At least on the inside,
don’t grow old.

Laying there:
Motionless and meaningless;
flat, and waiting for one to walk upon.
Taking it like habit.
Why is it that you don't move,
oh, doormat?
Why is it that you let them walk
in
and out,
over
and about?
They see you there and feel the urge;
a rush from inside their brains.
I must use.
I must use.
No, no!
You must refrain!
Doormat.
How brave you once were.
A girl, so strong.
A being, so brave.
Now, you lay,
and lie,
and try,

and

crave.

Stand up.
Dust yourself off,
or shake yourself out, if you must.
Doormat you shall be no more.
Doormat you shall be,
no more.

Eyelids part,
readjusting from dark hibernation.
Sleep -
peaceful;
warm.
Silence,
sings the extravagance
of a new morning,
a new day,
a fresh start.
Dewy are the leaves
and the grass.
Barefoot.
Sunrise;
sunshine.
Warm against tender,
sun-kissed skin.
Brilliant is the morn;
the awake.
Breeze ruffles hair
as dresses swing,
birds sing,
gliding.
Rejoice in the brilliance -
the jubilee of the day.

Mother.
When I look at you, I see
the woman I want to be
in twenty years.
You worry
about the wrinkles
that form constellations
across the freckles on your skin.
A natural reaction
to what society brands
as aging.

Mother.
When I look at you,
I see that those lines tell stories.
They speak to all the times
you laughed so hard
you cried.
Times you smiled so big,
so bright,
so proud,
your cheeks began to throb
to the beat
of my graduation march.

Mother,
when I look at you,
I see no age.
I see a superhero
flying her faithful SUV
from one side of town
to the next.
Whisking kids from practice,
and concerts,
and recitals.
All paid for with the money
from the job
that gets you up before the sun.
Money that means nothing to you
compared to the happiness
of your children.

Mother.
When I look at you,
I see honey golden eyes
just like mine.
Eyes I remembered
tired
and weary
after a long day
of making ends meet -
being a mother
and a father.
A woman too selfless to rest
until dinner was on the table.

Mother.
When I look at you
I see an airy frame,
but you’re strong --
so strong.
The greatest life lessons
I’ve learned from you
came in your darkest times
when you refused
to let the world break you down.
Life gave you lemons
and you’d be ******
if you were going to leave
the dinner table
before you finished drinking
all that lemonade.

Mother.
When I look at you,
I feel so much pride.
You’ve accomplished so much.
You’re Wonder Woman.
I feel the comfort,
like your soft embrace,
in knowing
where I come from…
and where I’m going.

Mother.
When I look at you,
I pray
someday I can be half
the mother you are
so my children can be
as lucky as me.

Mother.
When I look at you,
I see your mother too.
The generations of mothers
before you
whose love
and strength
and wisdom
were weaved together
to form
the beautiful woman you are today.

You see
bone thin.
Soft skin
glistens
--perfection.

She sees
never right.
A losing fight.
Enveloped in fright
as she cries in the night.

Fingers, deep.
Can't sleep,
can't breathe.
Can't believe
she's beautiful.
Tears, fright
all night.
Not alright.

Out it flows,
and there she goes.
But, no one knows;
the secret grows.
She doesn't know

She's beautiful.

Remember the days
of skinned knees
and gap-toothed grins?
Your little voice
calling my name
running behind me
in your tiny tux.

Remember the days
of metal mouths
and awkward lanky limbs?
Discovering we weren't blood,
but we WERE just the same.

I will remember fondly
the afternoons
where the beach stretched on
for miles,
and the rocks became our castle,
and we never ran out of words to say.

I will remember
being wrapped in your arms
enveloped in hugs
that could cure a broken heart.

I will remember courageous kindness,
a thousand-watt smile ,
and a heart too big for this world.

You left behind
a legacy unmatched.
So many hearts beat now
to the contagious cadence
of your laughter.

You were loved.
You are loved.
You will always be loved.

Remember now,
our naive promise
so many years ago?
We swore we'd be friends forever.

From your divine perch
seated by our maker forevermore,
remember:
You will always be in my heart.
I will never forget you.
Please remember.

Exist-

the agelessness.
Save this:
for one last kiss.
Try this,
the trying bliss.
Clenched fist;
the cry that's missed.

I haven't yet
figured out
how to put into words
what it feels like
to be trapped in my own head.
I fear that's a fate worse than death.
My whole life
everything--
every single emotional pang--
has flowed from me;
through my pen,
on to paper.
Just like that:
A balloon of troubles
released into air.
Well I've been silent
too long now.
My emotional drain,
clogged,
without a single bottle
of Drain-O left on any
of the Superstore shelves.
I'm in the unforgiving chokehold
of Depression.
With a capital D.
"Write your feelings down,"
my counselor says to me.
"writing can be therapeutic."
I know, Doc.
Which is why I'm here
on this double stuffed couch,
instead of in the safety
of my apartment
with my ink filled sword
and leather bound shield.
No thesaurus can aid me.
Merriam Webster is at a loss for words.
What is a poet without poetry?
I'm as useless
as the g
in lasagna.
Scars line my wrist;
Feeble attempts
of liberating the feelings
by placing them saddleback
on droplets of blood.
Keeping an open mind
is hardest when
your mind is the vault
sealed away
in your Fort Knox skull.
The pill popping lethargy.
This rainy day sadness.
Somewhere inside me
a little poet waits out the storm.

Choices
are the double-edged sword
with which
I will end it all.
Two devils sit
on each shoulder
seducing me
with sweet nothings.
You with your
sweet summers
and two crystal pools
of eyes
where I'd wade in the waters
of promise and tomorrow.
He with his
true love
constant as the new day,
crooked smile
and that twinkle.
He's luring me in
with his gravity.
There is never
a right answer
when you're juggling hearts.
I wish I could dance
for you
so I could make you happy again.
Like I used to.
Like he makes me.
I can't.
Choices will **** me.

Remember locking eyes that first time?
The dimly lit room on the bad side of town.
We were just children,
and you laughed at everything I said.

Remember kissing me unsure, yet steady?
Our first kiss, at my parents house,
hiding in the stairwell,
as our hearts beat like thunder.

Remember letting me steal your clothes?
Just that sweatshirt, and the others
so your scent could linger
just long enough to lull me to sleep.

Remember when you let me in?
Our two bodies becoming one
as we exchanged
our last pieces of innocence.

Remember those petty fights?
You told me I was crazy,
but I was just insecure.
You were stubborn, but I always won.

Do you remember the end, my love?
My world crumbled into pieces,
and you were free, at last.
Your parents were thrilled, and I just cried.

Remember seeing me again?
You hated me, but the *** was good,
and I was willing to be treated like that
just to see you for that short-lived moment.

Remember that hotel we met at?
We had just started college.
I confessed that I always have loved you,
and I think you felt something too.

Then, do you remember the distance?
We both tried so hard,
but in the end you knew,
there wasn't enough we could do.

Remember parting again?
We went months without speaking,
you and your school, I and my life;
Emerging on the other side, as friends.

Do you remember that summer?
You went away, helping others for you.
I finally was able to let go;
I moved on, scared, but ready.

All this time has passed,
and still, here we are.
Not meant to be anything more than we are.
I'm glad to remember.

Delicate being.
Perched so fragile
in the lap of peril.
Tied to the tracks
by your own will.
Held in danger's way
by your own means.
Porcelain doll
standing in a hurricane.
Delicate flower
in the blizzard of winter.
Paper-thin ice
in a heat wave.
Defying the odds
of time
and of fate.
Supposed to break,
but only seeming to bend.

Je souhaite que tous les jours sont remplis de soleil.
Je souhaite que la lueur dans l'œil ne s'effacera jamais.
Je souhaite que je peux vous donner tout le bonheur du monde.
Je souhaite que je peux effacer toutes vos larmes.
Je souhaite que vous suivez toujours vos rêves
Je souhaite que tous vos désirs seront exaucés.

Lights:
Two bright shining orbs
pulling me
hand over hand
from the darkness
that swallows me whole.
"All of me."
A whisper from oceans away
as the waves crash over me;
I'm drowning
in a sea of voices
from within.
But his eyes --
his bright shining beams of light
are the light house
guiding me to shore.
They stare at me
boring holes straight to my soul
through the thick fog
of fear and doubt.
A gaze locked on mine,
those shimmering suns,
until their warmth lulls me to sleep -
wrapped in blankets of safety.

J’aime
les trésors petits.
J’aime les choses que me fais sentir
très contente.
Je suis une fille
simple.
Quelquefois je ferme les yeux
et je fais comme si je suis haut le monde,
seulement.
Le bonheur,
il irradie de tous les pores de mon être.
J’adore
les choses simplement.
J’adore
le monde.
J’adore
adorer.

“She’s dead.” 

Just like that:

two words cause an eruption; 

A dam break. 

She was alive, 

and laughing, 

and smiling, 

and doing her job

(and doing whatever it is —

important or not —

that a person does 

when they’re living 

and you’re not thinking about them.)
*
“There was a gun,”*

they said.
*
“Her boyfriend is dead too,”* 

they said. 

“It was a parking dispute,”

they said.

And no amount of explanation 

could take the air that escaped her lungs

and put it back

to restart that beautiful, 

big,

loving heart inside her. 

And then you think, 

Man, if I had picked up the phone. 

Man, if I had made more effort. 

Man, if I had been a better friend. 

But you know you can’t change the past, 

and even three hours ago
when you were folding clothes, 

and she was sitting in that house

is the past. 

And now she’s gone and you don’t know why. 

“Everything happens for a reason,” 

they say. 

But they don’t tell you what the reason is.

And sometimes, you never figure it out. 

Then comes the candles, and the funeral.

And an eighteen year old ray of sunshine
is being put in the ground. 

And you’re here. 

Living, 

and breathing, 

and folding clothes. 

And you wonder why her 

and not you. 

You’re surely not deserving enough

to live 

while she can’t. 

And her family; 

All you can think about is her mother, 

and her father. 

And you remember watching TV, 

and riding the boat on the lake, 

and the cookouts, 

and even that time she was sleeping
and snoring a little.

You can still hear her voice. 

And remember that week before Christmas
when you saw her,
and she was really busy making coffee? 

But she sad hi to you and mom anyway. 

Nothing is the same anymore.

The world just isn’t the place it used to be.

Things like that just don’t happen where you live. 
Maybe in Los Angeles, 

or Florida. 

But certainly not in Maine. 

Not to someone you went to high school with. 

And certainly not her. 

No, not her. 

But it happened. 

A 74 year old man 

shot and killed your friend. 

Stole her life, and her light. 

And the worst part is that the world
keeps on turning 

even thought it feels like it stopped.

Don't love me.
Watching you
through my two camera lenses -
my honey-golden eyes
reflecting in the lusting
sunset.
They captivate,
mesmerize.
Two tiny pills
begging to be swallowed,
releasing hallucinogens
into your blood
as it boils.
Don't love me.
You believe my lies.
Pretty, like the lace dress
you watched slip to the floor.
You prayed
as I made you prey.
Devouring you
and your innocence.
Don't love me.
I took your trust
and your truth
replacing it with my lust
my body
my lies.
Don't love me.
You deserve the world.
And I,
to be alone
with my self-loathing,
searching soul,
and a cup of tea.
Don't love me.

Secrets.
The hush hush of the
passion we felt.
Hidden;
keeping me from you,
keeping us
from the eyes of curious,
of the furious.
Forcing us,
forcing them,
to be wrapped up in the
Lies.
Hiding the truth.
While I sit
fighting the tears -
for all those years.
You meant nothing you said.
Everything,
nothing more than
Broken promises.
The whole world, mine.
You'll give me the stars.
Always there for me,
never a care - for me.
Forever was ours,
or that's what you said.
And now I sit here with my life
filled to the brim with
secrets,
lies,
and broken promises
intertwined and intermitted.
Nothing mine
anymore
and nothing, yours,
forever more.
So please analyze
the pain in my eyes
from all of your lies.
As I respect
your lack of regret
for the secret
of the broken promises.

I promise this.

Last night
I was in your arms,
as your kisses
mingled
with smoke,
and your voice
whispered me a lullaby.

Tonight,
I'm alone with my thoughts
and my cold bed,
and my nightshirt
that smells like you,
and your sheets.

Tomorrow,
I'll wake
tired and groggy.
I'll need a cup --
or two --
to make me feel
even a little bit alive
like you do.

But tonight,
tonight I miss you.

Moments.
Slowly fleeting
bits of time
between you and I.
Distances
pulling at my every heart string--
a child's game.
Plastic cups
tied by a string
from my heart
to yours
across the roads;
highways lined with nothing
but distance
and longing.
I bask in your love
as I bask
in the golden sunlight's rays.
Warming me through,
it too,
too far away to touch.
Knowing your light,
my sunlight,
will always be there.

I
am torn.
Like the papers you signed.
Forced.
Forced to raise the boys
with you
and
your fears.
Forced into silence;
keeping myself from what I deserved
as a daughter,
to silence your tears.

My hero.
I saw you strong,
time and time again.
But I, too, saw your achilles bare.
I know the ins-and-outs.
I was there.
I share those feelings --
I share that experience.
I share the life that we were forced,
together,
to live.

But now,
with our loss --
I'm stamped.
The title:
DAMAGED GOODS.

I am not me;
I am the product of a splitting of a man and his wife.
I am the adultery.
I am the unwanted.

Well, now that I'm wanted
you must now forgive me for wondering.

I've waited patiently,
and gone through the motions;
Now that I can,
I can't.
The unfair tugging at my heart strings.
The love for you and the yearning for what my life could have been.
Don't let me have that.

I deserve to know.
I deserve a blank slate --
whether new or cleaned off --
it matters not to me.
I will make the mistakes
or I will relish
in the ways of human kind:
The ability to change and adapt;
The same ability I put into motion.
If you can change, we all can change.

So,
please.
I beg of you.
I represent not the hatred
and I will not bear it any longer.
You are my flesh,
you are my blood.
And I owe you the rewards of my life.
But he,
he is my flesh
and my blood
too...

"Smoking is bad for you."
But so are you.
I breathe you in
deep into my lungs.
You fill my head
with pretty feelings.
You're killing me slowly.
Each time we meet
you touch my lips
and dive right in.
You set my heart racing,
making it hard to breathe.
You're my vice.
I need you
even though I know it's wrong.
I'm addicted.

I wasn't looking
when I found you -
or so the story's told.

Maybe looking,
but, around you -
my patience growing old.

Eyes hazy,
and glazed over;
blissfully unaware.

Searching
desperately,
for something just not there.

A bright smile grows
so wide, my dear,
the width of my own face

when I think of,
so fond-a-ly,
finding your hiding place.

sleep, child.
sleep away the pain.
rest your weary mind.
not a child any longer.
forced to bow to the strong winds of adversity.
unable to hold your head high,
no matter how strong the efforts.
the rain seems to pour for days.
forgotten is the warm sunshine of yesteryear.
breathe, child.
breathe in the fresh air.
the winds have seemed to change.
for your patience,
you are rewarded.
the sun will shine,
tomorrow will come.

I want to open my eyes in the morning
and meet the cool
familiar
crystal blue.
I want to forever be the big spoon
even though,
we both know,
I wish it was you.
I want to linger in your smoke
as your laugh reverberates
off the trees,
off the moon,
off the stars,
and resonates.
I want to say those things,
those things that make the corners of your mouth
part
to reveal a curtain
of pearly white-
your own sweet work of art.
I want to be pulled close
into your warmth
as I dare you, again.
"You won't kiss me."
Because we both know you will.
It always happens
in the end.
I want to take your breath away
like you take mine,
it's true;
Simply,
truthfully,
passionately
I want
you.

Lie to me.

That sweet sound;
What I want to hear,
what I need to hear -
not the same.
Lie to me.
Make me feel
alive once again.
A charade,
make-believe.
Lie to me.
Wrap me up.
A dream come true -
if only for a moment.
Lie to me.
I cannot handle the truth any longer.

Strange,
new,
foreign.
His hand touches mine-
electricity.
Unimaginable, feeling like this again...
... so alive
His lips touch mine and I'm reborn,
reincarnated,
flying.
But oh! I'm so scared -
free-falling.
Who's to know what is beneath me?
So I trust,
open up,
let go.
On the tip of my tongue,
at the bottom of my soul,
I feel the words forming.
Heart beating in time
to my mind that is racing.
His sight:
pure ecstasy,
pure bliss,
so high.
I am swept away,
away,
in a wind scented with it.
The noun,
the verb,
the adjective.
So vast,
and oh-so premature.
So blissful,
so sinful,
so wrong,
so right.
Can't clear my head,
can't come down,
can't slow my heart -
I don't want to.
Closer,
closer,
the ****** of expression;
the words push at the back of my teeth.
I need to say it,
I need you to know it,
reciprocate,
appreciate:
"I think I'm falling in love with you."

You take me.
The shattered pieces on the floor,
broken.
Ground down fine
like powder.
You take me,
honey eyes that shine;
Closed tight
as soft lips part.
You take me,
early morning heavy lids.
Untamed mane of bed hair.
You take me
late-night groggy, sleepy,
excited, wild.
You take me
standing in the mirror
judging the girl looking back
until salty rivers flow.
You take me as I am:
flaws, perfections,
curves, edges.
You take me
and hold me
through everything.
You love me,
and I take you.

All the things
I've been dying to say
slip from my mind
as you release your hold,
strong, around my body.
3,000 miles
from your sea,
to my sea.
My heart shatters.
You start the engine purring.
I cry salty tears.
You look away.
Even if time machines existed.
Even if I could go back.
We would still be tumultuous,
crazy, and unpredictable,
like your sea.
And like mine.
You would still leave.
And I would still always love you,
in my own crazy way,
constant-
like the ebb
and the flow
of our two seas.
The sun rises
on what used to be our coast.
As you drive the winding interstates,
racing the sun
to your new life.
Your new beginning.
A different coast.
A different sea.
We always had different dreams.

Salty,
silent
streams
cut lines through porcelain.
Sad eyes
open wide
revealing her broken soul.
Being alone
and being left alone
are dissimilar.
One a retreat,
the other, a life sentence.
Casual curiosities question:
"Why?"
Sullen silence is
the only reply.
Cold outlines
in Egyptian cotton
are the ghost
of a warm body.
Your side
is empty.
So is
her chest.
Brutal beating
of a bleeding heart
is a rigid reminder
of a life left to live.
Love is lost.

You want me out?
Okay, good, I'm gone.
Am I dispensable to you?
Meaningless? Nothing?
Well let me tell you one thing:
the true thing.
This fun thing -
the try-ing,
I'm done.
All I want is friendship
but that ship
has sailed.
And you're left ashore,
for sure.
I'm sure,
that this time: you're worse off than before.
I give you the kindness, the caring,
the having your cake and eating it too.
I'm tolerant.
But this thing,
this holding my tongue,
is like holding my breath -
I'm blue.
I'm through.
And you?
Well good luck my friend,
'cause in the end
I swear I still care.
I love you like a brother,
like I've learned,
but another thing:
getting burned?
Not my favorite.
But one last time
before my rhyme is done:
On my list,
no matter what list,
you'll always be number one.

Set me free.
Release your tight grip
on my small wrists.
Fragile and naive --
a girl without a soul.
Weak, and brittle-hearted.
I shattered there
on your dorm room floor.
A word that transcends languages:
"No."

Your ears deaf to the single syllable;
Less of a word
soon, just a whisper.
Salty,
silent tears
tear across my skin
as you take what's mine.
An act forever embedded
on the back of my eyelids.
Playing over
each time I close my eyes.
No...

Monster,
doing as you please.
Inhuman
as you get what you can
and steal what you can't.
Unaware of the pain you cause
as you rip at my sad flesh;
carnage.
Pillaging my limp body.
No.

The fatal happiness erupts
from my every pore as I release you
into the wind like a balloon.
The string
once tied to my wrist -
was an anchor.
Away you go
into thin air
like you had never existed before.
Warmth begins to fill the frozen holes
within my being
and light bubbles to the brim
ready to show the world.
This new excitement,
wrapped around me,
burns with flames
of new found passion
and of thrill.
That feeling,
again ignited,
within my heart --
which tremors a bit in return
with the reminiscence.
I had never thought
happiness was possible,
for me,
again.
Yet --
here he sits
beside me
beaming from ear
to ear.
And ... release.

Heartbreak and tears I wear on my sleeve.
The evidence there of hurt from before.
Man after man lines up to leave;
I crumble, defeated, on the bedroom floor.

Dismal and dark, days filled with rain.
Desolate, lost, with nothing to show.
My eyes could tell stories of nothing but pain.
Each man from my bed, dressing to go.

I'd given up, turned my head! Farewell to love!
"There's no one for me" - I knew that for sure.
Fallen on my knees, hands clasped, asking above:
"Dear God, tell me love's not lost to lore.

If in life, one thing is to be true:
my heart was changed when I met you.

I miss your hands, your touch, your kiss.
The way your sweet smile leans to one side.
When I'm with you, I live in pure bliss.
Our love constant, like ceaseless tides.

Long and winding roads keep us far.
Days stretch for years, time seems endless.
Eyes wide at night, fixed on our stars;
Whispering, sad "I can do this... I guess."

Life without you is cold and so bleak.
But with you the sun forever will shine.
I feel my heart growing more and more weak.
But strong, my love, for you'll always be mine.

Time is but nothing, doing no harm.
I'd wait for eternity to return to your arms.

There is no pain
like
loving
without being loved.
Needing
without being needed.
Giving
without getting back.
There is no sorrow
like
the cool side
of the bed,
or waking up
to a dormant phone;
Passing couples
on the street.
I'm tired
and alone.
This penitentiary
I can't escape.
A constant desire
to have my hand held.
To watch your lips
part;
To hear you coo
my name.
There is no
bad dream
dark enough.
No night
cold enough
to compare to
what it feels like
to want you,
and not have you.

This is the life we live:
The droning on of the voices
speak to me, and preach to me.
Tell me the wrong and right,
and watch me as I slowly back away,
and do what I want anyway.
This is the youth of today.
This is the way we were raised.
Stand up for what we believe in,
and stand up against the bad.
Stand up for the good.
Now take a seat,
and silence everything that we made you know.
Spoon fed the knowledge
of a truth that could be false.
Did Orwell know something we didn't?
The secrets kept so well,
like our own.
This is the life we live.
The choice of living.
The choice of being.
The weight of the world on your shoulders,
dear Atlas.

When the twilight fades,
the darkness envelops the world.
There I will be:
back down in the dewy grass,
breathing with the earth;
eyes wide-
taking in the millions of specks of life.
I could count them all
with a life-time of darkness;
but the light brings new days,
new chances.
Yet,
still,
I wait for the time
where I can steal out into my bliss -
our bliss
and lay there in silence;
you,
me,
and the stars.

I'm often alone.
So please excuse
my desires
for you
to hold me a little longer.
I want to linger
in that state
between awake
and asleep,
as the sunlight
filters in pink.
Caressing our skin,
whispering,
"You can lay
just a minute more.."
Reluctantly unaware;
Am I sleeping?
For this feels
like dreaming.

a simple smile
sent my way
and i dont hear
a thing they say

the light it fades
the smiles pass
seems i'll always be
happy, last

If only I could
say the words
I need to...

It would be
so much easier
if you
knew.