turning a blind eye,
“protecting my peace”
i never could do it quite correctly.

the ill feelings of comparison,
curiosity & resentment most women harbor,
keep me in line

yet i know when i fall,
inevitably it seems,
my eyes will open wide to the sky.

my “peace” will not be there to catch me.

i hope you stand in its place,
arms outstretched,
below the skyline.

i cannot birth the sadness from my body,
as many women do,
and disregard its existence entirety

it exists as me,
feeding from within,

my desire to free it,
the will to move past,
does nothing.

having no escape from myself,
i must harbor the baby of my own wretchedness,
forever nursing a violent sickness

tranquility in the dark,
head full of sand,
i know better.

unease,
a trashing sea,
breaks to the forefront.


keep vigilant,
in the serenity,
in the times all seems right.

it’s only a matter of time,
before the waves meet the sand,
and all returns to chaos once more,
current pulling back.

bluebirds sing.

seeing the world,
smell the smells and hear the sounds,
bluebirds sing amongst themselves.

the cold metal bars caked in rust,
door tightly shut,
they rest upon a birch woven over metal.

sat so still,
watching people pass,
the bluebirds sing.

if you get close to hear,
open the metal door,
free the bluebird from the cage.

it will remain among its peers,
positioned on the pirch,
with the door wide open.

bluebirds sing.

i watch.

i watch as the decisions are made,
the lifestyle picked.
so much time left yet so little life to live.

at the first fall from grace,
what was to come was already set.

behind a white picket fence filled with cracks,
while hiding in the overgrown grass i’ll watch.

just as i had watched then,
thinking the decisions were mine,
just as i watch now,
thinking it’s too late,
just as i always have,
watched. watching.

flowers grow from muddy grounds,
blooming flowers all around.
Tall and bright,
savoring light,
they grow.

But not a flower, he’s a ****,
i’m a flower from a seed.
he grows up strong and tall,
wrapping around my vine making me fall.

he weighs me down but i love him so,
flower and **** together alone.
can they grow together in harmony,
without weeds hurting the flowers leaves?

all i can do is sit.

sit in bed,
sit in chairs,
sit on the floor,
sit on the stairs.

all i can do is sit.

the world keeps turning,
passion keeps burning,
everyone moves on,
time goes along.

all i can do is sit.

day turns night,
winter turns spring,
the feelings replaced by emptiness that times passing brings.

all i can do is sit.

pain to numb,
emotion to none,

all i can do is sit.