2006 —
"you can't run away."
"you can't wear makeup yet, you're not old enough."
"sorry sweetie, you can't do that."
"you can't. why? because i said so."

"you can't"
"you can't"
"you can't"

"you're just a child."

2014 —
"you can't go to art school, art is just a hobby. where is art going to get you in life?"
"traveling after you graduate? that's irresponsible, you can't do that."
"you can't just go around making bad decisions. think about your future."
"you can't be engaged, you're too young."

"you can't"
"you can't"
"you can't"

"you're supposed to be an adult."

sunshine doesn't always mean warmth
love doesn't always mean worth
a heart doesn't always mean theres a soul
life doesn't always need a goal
eyes don't always mean sight
punishment never means right
whats normal might strike you as odd
sometimes theres faith without any god

I am a cigarette to you.

You lit me up,
and I burned slowly,
and you enjoyed my simple highs,
and got dizzy from my insides.

You began to crave me,
addicted to the sensations I gave your mind,
reliant on the comfort I gave you.

But your fingers began to slip,
and I would burn you,
and I had no choice,
I was on fire.

Then I was nothing but a filter,
and you stomped me into the ground.

But in the end, I was killing you all along.

One year ago exactly, I awoke to the miserable news that my dear friend, Morgan Helman, was dead. I called her voicemail and wept my goodbyes. I punched the wall and screamed until I thought my lungs would crack. I wrote a poem to express the ravaging anguish I was experiencing, and to try and honor her life. I read it as a eulogy at her funeral. In it, I mentioned a time when she had asked me to write a happy poem. Everything I had ever written was a result of sadness or some other tortured emotion. I apologized that what I wrote for her was far from happy. I told her someday I would a write a happy poem, though I doubted my own words. One year later, I have walked away from the depressed mental state I used to call home. On the anniversary of her passing, I completed this "happy" poem. It's different than what I'm used to creating. It might not be as artistic as some of my other poetry. But it is a vivid expression of the first step in a new direction. This poem is dedicated to Morgan Helman and the legacy of love she left in her wake.

You Are

Resonating laughter
as the child plays,
hallway smiles
on bad days.

Disney movies
when I'm sick,
lightsaber battles
as a kid.

Rope swings
for make believe Peter-Panning,
backyard sprinklers
spraying the trampoline.

Hot soup
after it snows,
Refreshing popsicles
when the sun glows.

Warm cookies
melting in my mouth,
playing cards
at Grandma's house.

Blazing campfires
engulfed in inspiration,
jam sessions
with passionate musicians.

Barefoot freedom
in the grass and on the beach,
Sandy paradise
sinking beneath my feet.

Captivating books
as it gently rains,
favorite songs
when I'm disarrayed.

Intimate poetry
as my soul sings,
genuine happiness
spilling out of me.

Caring parents
whose admiration lasts,
trustworthy friends
who remove my masks.

Comforting arms
when my friend dies,
calloused hands
pulling tears from drowning eyes.

Raw love
strung on splintered wood,
My God
you are everything good.

~ m.w. ~

scared because i
know the
truth.