To you I thought
That I would always say,  
"When you're ready,
I'll be here waiting."

Today though,
I don't think I can.

And I'm not sorry
For my inability.

A body lies broken
On the freeway ramp curb.
A man once stood there
Asking for help
With his cardboard cutout
Plea for societal mercy.
Then a car sped too fast,  
Swerving to make the green light
It was never going to catch
In this dimension or any other.

Just a moment was all it took.

Did you know he was a soldier
Who was haunted at night
By the enclosed confines of his house
Because it too closely resembled
The urban landscape he fought in,
Faced death in, lost friends in,
Got caught in until the web of his mind
Couldn't ever forget it
Especially when he tried to sleep at night?

Did you know he came back
And tried to fit in to the community
He had been born and raised in
But found that the stares and glances
Of wonder and horror laced
With misunderstanding and pity
He didn't need but couldn't escape
Were too much for him to bear
Because though he could
Look the enemy in the eye
It hurt too much to see
His own father couldn't meet his,
And a community takes its cues
On how to treat its people
From those closest to them,
So, soon no one would look him in the eye?

Did you know all that when you passed
Where he stood every day on the curb
Asking for your pity and spare change,
Having become the uttermost disgrace
In his own eyes,
Because don't you know
He used to be somebody?

Did you know that today,
When you made a split second
Choice to speed up the turn,
He'll be buried in the National Cemetery
With an honor guard
And a three rifle volley salute,
But the chairs will be empty
And no one will speak kind words for him,
Because he's already been forgotten?

How else could you run over him,
And drive off with not a glance back??

My conclusion: you're a ******!

I wonder a lot.
Even in the middle
Of a busy day at work,
My pondering cogs start to turn.
What do I think about?
Honestly, mostly you.

I wonder if you would
Recognize me if you saw
Me on the street.

I wonder if you would
Be proud of the woman
I'm molding myself into.

I wonder if you're sad
About the fact that you'll
Most likely never meet
Your grandchildren.

I wonder if you even care.

And then in the midst
Of that train of thought
Pops this:
I wonder why I'm wondering.

I could be wondering
Why baby elephants
Like to push their heads
Into mudbanks.
Or why warm water
Freezes more quickly than cold.

I could be wondering
Why the sound of minor chords
Evokes a deeply
Haunting feeling.
Or why white is the absence of all color,
While black is the presence of all color.

I could be wondering
About politics, religion, myths,
Relationships, love, life,
Me.

Instead
I'm sitting here
Thinking about you.

Which is infinitely depressing
When I know
You don't even give a **** 'bout me.

I met a guy,
And when he looks at me
I know he sees
Him and me
Down the road
When we're old
Sitting' on that back porch
Drinkin' sweet tea
Or maybe whiskey;
Him and me
Down the road
Livin' in an airstream
Like gypsies
Blown from place to place
Never stayin' settled too long;
Him and me
Down the road
Hand in hand
Watchin' our
Sons become fathers,
Daughters become mothers,
But always our children
No matter how old they get;
Him and me
Down the road
Side by side
Six feet under
With his epitaph that reads
"Her and me forever."
And mine that reads
"What he said."

I made it my daily habit
To paint on a face of "I can do this."
No one knew of the bleeding stripes
On my back or heard my silent cries.
They only saw the laughter
On my lips that never reached my eyes.
They only heard the embellished tales
I spun to hide the shake in my voice
When I tried to avoid
Talking about my real life.
Covered up and hidden away
Were all my bruises and wounds.
No wonder no one believed me
When I wiped the mask off my face,
When I stopped spinning yarns,
And uncovered my back and lifted my eye,
And laid bare my soul for them to see.
They thought it another trick,
A story for them to dismiss,
Instead of the plea for help and mercy
I had finally drummed up the courage to make.
It is fear that drove me to hide.
Fear and my most stubborn pride.
I wanted to be whole more than anything else.
But the truth is that I'm broken and in need of help.

Now, though, there's none who believe
The words of truth from my mouth
For I've spent far too long hiding behind
The words of an embellished life.

When drafting
Poetic masterpieces
On a Personal Computer,
**ALWAYS PRESS SAVE.

He took my hand
And my heart skipped a beat.

Skadoosh

My world implode,
Never to be the same.

Kaboom

Now that he's gone,
How do I recover?

Bang

He was my firecracker,
My short-fused flame.

My nickname for you was "broccoli".
I called you that because
Your hair is so curly
That one of our classmates
Tried to describe it and could only
Come up with "broccoli"
And somehow that name stuck in my heart.
To this day, I can't eat broccoli
Without thinking of you,
Picturing your curly brown hair
And kind green eyes
And strong yet tender fingers
And brilliant ear-to-ear smile
And smirk just for me.

I miss you. A lot.
I never told you I was in love with you,
And I regret that.
So I want to write a book of poems
And promote it far and wide
Just so I'll have the chance
To maybe catch your attention
And see you again.
Then, maybe I can tell you
"Thanks for the collection of Emerson
You so thoughtfully bought me...
That's what made me fall
Head over heels for you."

I decided to be nostalgic
And flip on the Fresh Prince.
The "gentle" comedy cheers me up,
But then again, laughter is infectious.
I'm on a marathon now
With this show on reruns.
Watching every episode
Until one...

You watch a sitcom and expect
To chuckle and cackle along with the audience.
You expect your heart to be lifted
Out of whatever darker place you've been.
You don't expect it to hit so close to home
That your throat closes up
And your lungs burn with the need to breathe
But you can't
Because suddenly where there was the sound
Of deep throated guffaws,
Of bellyaching mirth,
Is only uncontrollable weeping and sobs
You never knew a sitcom could draw.

Will: I didn't need him then, I don't need him now.
Philip: Will...
Will: No, you know what, Uncle Phil? I'ma get through college without him, I'ma get a great job without him, I'ma marry me a beautiful honey, and I'ma have me a whole bunch of kids. I'ma be a better father than he ever was, and I sure as hell don't need him for that, 'cause there ain't a **** thing he could ever teach me about how to love my kids!
[long pause]
Will: [breaks down] How come he don't want me, man?

That echo in my soul:
How come she don't want me, man?

Listen.
I know you've lived longer
Than my short quarter century life.
I know you've seen more,
Done more, loved more,
Touched more, tasted more,
Experienced more things than i.
I know you're only trying to help.
I appreciate the giving of advice.
I know you mean well
When you say it's time to give them up,
It's time to move on,
To be my own person,
To learn to live for only myself.
But you haven't lived through
The total decimation of your family.
You haven't watched as the lives
Of your loved ones fall into utter ruin
One by one.
You weren't relegated to helpless paralysis
By the fear that you'd lose them all
And by the depression that came with knowing
You couldn't even help yourself.
You don't know what it feels like
To have the dagger of abandonment,
The shattered shards of broken hearts,
The pinpoint needles of disillusionment,
The three-pronged fork of misunderstanding,
****** into your soul over and over
By every lemon life throws your way.
You don't know what it is to stand
On the brink of death
Because if you don't have them,
You have nothing.
You still have your family.
All intact and whole.
So don't begrudge me
My clutching, grasping, clinging attempts
At keeping what remnants of a family I have
Together.
I will not let them go
Until they have to be pried
From my dead hands.
And even then, I will still be loyal.

*They are all i have.

After the cold darkness of haunted memories
Has chilled my soul
In a fitful bout of sleep,
A steaming hot cup
Of Irish tea
Makes me feel human again.

"I would give anything
To see you smile again."
Said my reflection in the mirror.

So would i,
my friend,
*So would i.

What does a poet do
When words fail them?
When the vernacular
They so heavily relied on
To convey every navy blue,
Indigo, violet hue of the midnight sky,
Dies on the tip of their tongue?
When the morphemes
That gave life to the phantoms
And pantomimes in their heart
Come out as Neanderthalic grunts?
What does a poet do?
When the discourse once so comfortable
Becomes stilted, halting, and forced
Because their brain has blanked
On their particular patois?
When not even the thesaurus or lexicon
Or revered Oxford English Dictionary
Can provide the adequate locution
So as to appease the poet's need
To be
Understood,
Acknowledged,
Fathomed,
Decoded,
Interpreted,
Heard.
Because that's all we want.
And that's the impossible
When we have writer's block.

I have a hole in my stomach
And you think it's because I worry
About money or material possessions.
You take pity on me
For my young age and inexperience
And naïveity and general paucity.
You think you're magnanimous,
Benevolent and chivalrous.
To stoop to where I stand
In the gutter, covered
With the sweat and tears
And shards of a broken heart
Left behind by life's disappointments,
Stand alone with no one
To pull me up when I get knocked down
By the chaos that swirls
In the muck by my feet,
Stand weary and weakened
In body and soul
At having to combat the demons
Your memories invoke,
Stand lowered in your opinion
Because of my pauper's condition--
To stoop--a great commendation to your name.
But I don't care about your money,
Your gifts or your charity.
I've never cared about what you can do for me.
All I want is for once in our lives,
Your hand would reach out empty
Of things, of gifts, of material monies,
But full of kindness and empathy.

It's not what you do,
But who you are.

When you get tired
Of roaming the earth,
Will my name be on your lips
As you recall the sweet memory
Of strawberry wine and rose hips
Perfume in the air
You breathed under the stars with me
On the night you told me you loved me,
You wanted to grow old with me
But first you had to go see the world?

Have you seen enough?
Climbed enough mountains?
Sailed enough seas?
*Are you ready to come home to me?

Artemis ran through the woods tonight Calling her dogs to her side,
For the hunt is on, in the Moon's light,
And will watch her claim a prize.

Her bow at the ready with arrow nocked,
String drawn to her listening ear,
She scanned the wood for a sign of deer,
Before she let fly a sure shot.

The stag she bagged was great and mighty;
Her dogs helped her carry the load.
Thus this treaty she gave to sweet Aphrodite,
But in vain--she went home alone.

I walked into a room where you were
And my pride kept me from hightailing
It out of the room and running until
My legs burned with lactic acid.
You spoke to me but the words fell on dull ears.
You looked at me but I kept my walls up
Such that in my head I was invisible.
I had done so well protecting myself,
Staying away from the places you frequented,
Not spending time with the people you call friends
Even though they were my friends first.
And then today all my efforts became
Void, vain, utterly useless,
For there I was inwardly crumbling
The broken-then-stitched-back-together
Fragments of my heart
Between proverbial coldhearted fingers.
My jaw is as set as my will: like flintstone,
Cold, hard, and steeled.
You may once have had a hold on me,
Affected me, impacted me,
But today, you are nobody.

I haven't talked to you
In close to a whole calendar year.
How could you possibly
Understand how I feel?

Entropy--
The gradual decline into disorder.
Deterioration--
The process of becoming progressively worse.
Decline--
The gradual and continuous loss of strength, numbers, quality, or value.

Recover--
Return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.
Ameliorate--
Make something bad or unsatisfactory better.
Wellbeing--
The state of being comfortable, healthy, or happy.

When I struggle
To stand up straight
After getting out of bed
In the morning,
When I keep dropping
Everything my fingers
Curl around yet can't seem
To keep a firm grip on,
When my eye twitches
Uncontrollably throughout the day
And especially at night
While I'm watching TV,
When I lay my head down
Finally at the end of another long day
And hope to slip away
To Slumberland unimpeded,
When I **** awake at 4 a.m.
With sweat crawling down my back
And the scent of fear in my nostrils
All because of memories,
I think to myself,
"I am sick and tired of drama.
I am sick and tired of being depressed."

Would you go back in time
To do or say something different?

Yes.
Even if it didn't change
The course you chose in these last years,
I would do Thanksgiving '09 over again.

Actually, I would redo only one moment:
We were standing in the hallway
Of the house we'd been forced to rent
When all our fortunes had been lost.
You were storming out to greet me
With a frosty, icy glare.
My hand was raised in salutation,
My eyes were both eager and wary.
Before I knew what was happ'ning,
My glasses lay shattered on the floor.
Without a second's hesitation
Or look or exclamation,
I had run out the front door.

I would that I could redo that moment!
And this is how I'd hope it goes:
We meet in the hallway,
And your fist comes towards my face.
But before you can punch
My 21 year old visage,
My hand will stop you
And force you to look into my eyes.
Then I will say, "Mom, I love you."

Maybe your eyes would soften.
Maybe your heart would too.
Maybe you'd choose to try again
At being daughter, wife, mother.
Maybe you'd choose to stay.

And maybe history can't be amended,
Rewritten, retold, or changed.
I just wish my last words
Could've been "I love you."

Nothing under the sun
Rhymes with "orange."

According to the OED,
And in my book the OED is the AUTHORITY,
(At least when it comes to English words.)
There is only one word
That rhymes with "orange":
"Sporange".

But this doesn't count
Because it has the word "orange" in it!

Nothing under the sun
Rhymes with the word "orange."

She looks out the window
At the thick sheen of ice
That covers the road.
People huddle and shuffle
In great huffs of warm breath
As they try to move on in their lives.
They try to ignore their wobbly legs
And shifty, slidey, slippery feet
On patch after patch of ice.
They've got great things to do
And many places to be,
So they battle the weather
That is set to defeat them.
But she sits amongst pillows
With fuzzy blankets and cocoa,
Content to let the world go on outside.
She'll just recline at the window
Reading her poems with satiated sighs.

When you walked out
On your daughters
And husband of 22 years
With the fear
That you would never
Be worth anything
In the eyes of the world
If you were merely
A housewife and a mother,
Did you think they didn't love you
Because you were just
Their wife and mother?

Did you not understand
That you were the other half of his soul?
And the bringer of life into the world?
As such, the universe
Could never think of you as mere!

Alright, I'll confess it.
I would change everything about you.
Your bangs should sweep left to right,
Not right to left like you have them now.
Your cocky half smile quirks too much
So I think you should tone it down.
The way you shrug one shoulder then the other
In some comedic fix of antipathy
Should be more pronounced and firm.
I'd like it better if the shoes you wore
Weren't the same pair day after tired day.
Oh, and I think you're better looking
If you'd try to wear any makeup at all.
Really. Anything would help at this point.
I would change everything about you.
The way you talk, the way you walk,
Your affability towards people,
Your desire to learn and know the world.
I would strip you of everything you are
And have and know and love
And make you into someone new,
Someone different, someone...whole.
Because with all these not so bad qualities
I see in you through your wary eyes,
Are a host of demons lurking
In the black parts of your soul.
And I would rid you of them
For they haunt you and scare you
And turn you into someone I don't know.
If it means all the things I love and cherish,
All the quirks and smirks that make me smile
Must die in bloodshed as well,
Then so be it.
I would change everything about you.
If it meant that the things that drive you mad,
That tear you away from my side
In a fit of chaotic turbulence,
That make you cry uncontrollably in the dead of night,
Would all be expelled from your being,
Then I would gladly give up
The person I love
In exchange for someone else.
For I would rather you be someone totally different
And still holding my hand,
Than to see you drift further and further away
Into the darkness of your mind.

I never knew love like Yours
In all my darkened years.
I never knew patience like Yours
In all my mental institutions.
I never knew what it was
To be whole in heart and soul
Until You came in
And kissed my lips
And took my hand
And led me home
Without one thought for my darkest demons.
You loved me and held me.
You fed me and clothed me.
You made Your home mine too.
And when my heart broke
And the nightmares spilled out
Like a child's box of trinkets
Scattered across the floor,
You picked up each shard of broken heart
Without so much as a second thought
To whether they would cut You too,
And gently put them back together
With meticulous finesse
Until my heart matched Yours
In perfect cohesiveness.
I must confess Your love has made me whole.

There's this place
I love to visit
When the world
Has tuckered
Me out.
It's a place
Not known to many,
Which works
Just fine for me.
It can be quiet
When I want to be.
Or raucous when I party.
It's a place
That comes to me
To wrap me up
And take me home
When the fringes
Of my soul
Become so frayed
And tattered,
Ragged and threadbare,
When the depths
Of my heart
Have lost all but one drop of hope.
This place is my haven.
And though I wish for you
To find the peace here
That I do,
This place is mine
And I just can't share it with you.

I would ask
For space,
For distance,
For some degree of separation,
For a pause,
For an intermission,
For a break,
Before I lose myself
Completely
In this
Swirling,
Twirling,
Whirling
Billow of emotional haze.

*Can you give me that, please?

Sooooo maybe I got
Unreasonably angry.
Maybe I got illogically riled.
And maybe I let my childish emotions
Get the better of me
And I ran with them, rampant and free.

How does one find
The balance in life
Of feeling but not feeling too much?
Of not pendulum swinging
From uncontrollable loathing
To indescribable bliss
Or inexorably blithe?

To feel but only to feel enough!
To be but only to be just right!
Never too little and yet not too much!
Finding the balance is every man's plight.

If your muggy-grubby hands
Even rise to slap me again
I swear I'll chop them off with my axe.

If your fangly-boniony feet
Get within kicking distance of me,
I swear I'll tear your legs from your hips
And then admire my workmanship.

If your mangy-crazy mind
Tries to infiltrate mine
To deposit some lie
That would change the perception
Of me, myself, and i,
I swear I'll grab a spoon
And scrape, scrape, scrape
Out your brain.

If your hoity-toity attitude
Tries to usurp my solitude
To make me someone I'm not
I swear I'll be completely dispassionate
As I wipe your every iota from this
Particulate Universe.

If I so much as hear you breathe,
I swear I will squeeze
Every
Drop
Of
Air
Left in your lungs.

You think this is too violent even for me?
You'd better believe
I've been pushed to the edge
Of all logical reason
By your every act of treason
And I won't hesitate to
Incapacitate,
Excommunicate
Eradicate,
You from my life.

You'd better beware.
I'm angry and all this I'll do.
I swear.

I will ask only once:
In all the 36 months
We danced around each other
Did you ever want me as a lover?

Did you dream of holding my hand,
Of sinking into me like quicksand,
Of romping with me in Dixieland,
Of making plans with me beforehand?

Did you?
*I did.

It was 27 minutes past 1 o'clock in the morning.
I stood staring down at her
Curled up form on the couch.
No one knew.
I reached out to smooth back her hair
But my hand passed right through.
Fingers curling into fists,
I step back in a cloud of mist
And waited for answers to be given.
But there are no answers in death.
I stare at her unable to comprehend
How she could just lie there
When I was standing here.
So I started to scream, to yell, and to shout.
I banged on the wall and slammed all the doors.
Nothing.
No one knew.
I raced up the stairs to where the others slept.
They stirred not an inch as I reached out to pinch
Their snoring, ignoring selves.
Heavy footsteps fell as I trod back downstairs
To the room in which she slept.
The clock now read 1:28.
How could this be?
How could she sleep?
I was right here!
But then again, I was right there too,
Dead on the couch.

I craft my haikus
By counting syllables on
Dancing phalanges.

I could do this forever.
It's like
Running into an old friend
And sitting down for just one cup
Of coffee, then realizing you've had five.
It's like
Settling into the plump plush pillows
In a darkened room as the beginning credits
To your weekend marathon roll across the screen.
It's like
Shaking out that huge-*** beach towel
On the warm sand and pulling out
The stack of super-fast-read ****** paperbacks.
It's like
The first bite of Pavlova
And digging in and digging in
Until the whole cake is gone and you don't regret it at all.
Its like
Finding that last reserve of strength
To channel all your power into your fist
And strike the bag so hard it loses sand.
It's like
All the things I love to do
And doing them all at the same time.
That's what this is.

By some twist of fate
Your old bedroom is now mine.
It's been completely redone though.
All the holes from the nails
That held up your favorite posters
Are puttied up and painted over.
The carpet I accidentally melted a hole in
When I was trying to burn away
The memories of our painful past
Has long since been pulled up
And replaced with hardwood flooring.
I've filled the space with furniture
And put my touch on every square inch.
I've done my best to erase you,
But sometimes at night as I'm falling asleep,
I hear your laughter and see your smile.
And I wish with all my heart on that shooting star
The Fates would've given me
Just a little more time with my favorite sister.

Seriously??
You're seriously bringing that up now??
After everything you've put us through,
You're going to hold this over my head
Right now??
I can't believe this.
I knew you were childish
But this is reaching new lows
Even for you.
I mean,
Who brings up a mistake I made
Ten years ago when I was legitimately a kid.
I mean,
Who doesn't forgive a child
For not knowing any better
And messing up huge that one time.
But you never were one who fought fair.
You used every ***** trick not in the book
And then some.
You
Lied,  
Manipulated,
Schemed,
Guilted,
Violated,
Demanded,
Demeaned,
Degraded,
Beat,
Beat,
Beat,
Me into the ground
Until I believed that
I was shorter than Thumbelina,
And responsible for all the chaos in your life.
Blinded by childish hero worship,
I trusted you when you told me
I was the reason things weren't working out.
But the child is not responsible
For the failed marriage of her parents.
The child is not responsible
For her parents' lack of communication.
The child is not responsible.
But you're still living like I am.
So I'm not gonna take this anymore.
I'm not gonna sit here, stand here, stay here,
And listen to your convoluted messed up reality.
I've got my own life to live.
My own memories to make.
My own mistakes to learn from.
My own family to find and have and raise.
And I sure as hell don't need
Someone like you coming back in
And telling me I'm less than I really am,
Cause the truth is, Mom,
I'm a lot more than you'll ever be.

I try
To stop
The thoughts
That haunt
My sleep.

But when
I push
Them out
They claw
Their way
Back in
My dreams
And become
Night terrors.

Nightmares of
Us laughing,
Us dancing,
Us talking,
Us walking,
Us living,
Us being
Together again.

When I
Wake up,
The hole
In my
Heart grows
A little
Bigger than
It had
Been before.

You're gone.
And all
I have
Left from
Your presence
Are these
**** memories.

*F you.

Take.
Your.
****.
Memories.
Outta.
My.
Head.

I once stood on a cliff
Ready to let it all go.
The waves crashing below me
Threw coarse icy salt into my face.
Two steps from the edge,
Ready to fly into the cold darkness.
Sudden warmth covers my shoulder.
i should have known.
You always come for me.
Just before i can take the plunge
Your hand pauses my train of thought,
Causes me to take a step back.

What would i do without You?
You take away the cold
That threatens to completely freeze my heart.

What would i do without You?
You're the only One who knows
Just how much i want to be saved.

What would i do without You?
I don't even want to know,
Because I don't want to imagine
A life that has no You.

I once stood on a cliff
Enjoying the sunrise
With You by my side,
Hand in my hand.

90° angles becoming 45° becoming 10°.
Hands at 12 o'clock sliding down to 6.
Silence

How long have I been like this?
How much longer do I have?

10 feet of concrete
Is topped with sandstone tiles
And covered with a cheap rug.

2 string-worn tennis rackets
Lie side by side pressed into the rug
By my knees.

Soon. He'll be back soon,
And then you can stand up.

"** le. Ng zo det ki he luoi."
Words in my native tongue release me.

4 legs of the stool
Slam into the floor
As I drop it from above my head.

5 minutes later I've peeled
The wires of the rackets
From the grooves
In the skin of my knees.

2 days later
I can finally walk normally again.

But this was only
*Punishment #372.

Why is it that when I set out to write a poem
I end up writing a Scandinavian saga?
Why can't I write poetry that's short?

*Like this.

The time has come.
I must now say farewell.
But don't be glum!
You will see me again.

I'm going to make my name known
Across the ocean in a foreign land.
I'm going to experience the world
So as to soak up the wisdom of others.
And they will know me--

My name will ring like a battlecry.
My stories will entertain the passerby.
They will chant for me "Encore! Encore! Brava!"
They will throw themselves into the midst of the hoopla.
And when I've exhausted their reserves of attention,
I'll head home and be done with pretention.

For in all the traveling I'll do,
No one will know me like you.

And no matter how good
The fame makes me feel,
They will only know
My name as a battlecry,
My stories for the passerby,
How they chant "Brava",
And throw themselves into the hoopla.

But you will know
My favorite color is grey.
My hair is naturally straight.
My jam band is Train.
And most of all...
My real name.

Wait, why am I leaving?
To travel and meet Sting?
Why would I waste my days
Scouring the world for fame
When happiness is being known
By the One who loves you the most?

I think I'll retract my farewell,
That I might stay and with You dwell.

I write for no one.
My cadence and rhyme,
My similes and metaphors,
My free verse and sonnets,
My poetry is not for you.

I write for no one.
My word painted masterpieces
Of lyrical brilliance
With balanced tone depth
And rich hues of experience
Are not on display for you.

I write for no one.
My sidewalk art is not for sale.
My music scores are private.
My dance moves are copyrighted.
And no one can make me share.

I write for no one.
But I reserve the right to be...
Contradictory.

I write for that little ******* the slide
Who is wearing denim overall shorts
Because it's 1991 and that's what people do.

I write because she had a dream
Once of being loud and obnoxious,
And I'd like to support her dream.

I write for that teenager
Riding her skateboard at midnight in A-town,
Because it's 2001 and she's got nothing better to do.

I write because she made a plea
Twice with me,
And I'd like to save her if I can.

I write for that college graduate
Who sits in the crowd, proud,
Because it's 2010 and people got some living to do.

I write because she lost a bet
And needed a way out of being muzzled,
So I agreed to be her voice.

I write for no one.
I write for me.

The plan was
(Perfect)
To grow up,
(Ideal)
Find love,
(Dreamy)
Settle down,
(Hopeful)
Have kids,
(Heartwarming)
Grow old,
(Long-term)
Still love,
(Perfect)
Die happy.

But life happens and
Plans become
(Unexpected)
Survive,
(Guarded)
Rebuild,
(Solitary)
Relearn,
(Stressful)
Reconstruct,  
(Sacrificing)
Revitalize,
(Inspiring)
Thrive,
(Satisfying)
Live.

Everyone thinks I'm quiet,
Shy, with very little to say.
They might even think
There's nothing going on upstairs
Because of my silent stare.

But if they'd sit down with me
Over a nice cup of tea
I'd tell them tales of *******,
Fluffy, Caesar, and Fang.
I'd weave in stories of Polly,
A-town, and tar-babies.
I'd tell them what it's like
Balancing between the worlds
Of a mixed racial identity.

First love and heartbreak,
Triumphs and failures,
Cheesy puns and knock knock jokes,
Triumphs, woes, and despairs.
I have words for all these things,
If anyone would lend an ear.

Silence doesn't mean we have nothing to say.

All of us have much to say,
*When we have someone to listen.

He knew.
That's all she could think about.

He knew.
And she had no clue how.

He knew.
And that a mystery profound.

He knew.
But didn't give her the runaround.

HE KNEW.
And stayed to be her wolfhound.

He knew.
This is love, no doubt.

She knew
His promise is his vow.