"You don't understand,
I'm not strong enough
to let go of these people
who don't even care for
me."

what will i do
when you find
a girl who loves
you and what
if I am still alone
will i be okay
with that
by then?

am i to think
i am the only
one who finds
sharing bodies
to be sacred or
was that lost
am I just

dreaming.

it may seem like
nothing, but the
boys used to call
me bush and this
girl named Sierra
would lie about
our friendship,
i've been ugly
more times than
I can count and
because I never
forgave them I
still spend every
day trying so
hard to be

loved

Late at night
I petition God
for happiness

I want to apologize for all
the times I walked in front
of you, all the times I could
see you about to cry, and I
could do nothing but laugh
nervously, I'm so sorry, for
lacking the compassion to
cope, to be someone good.
Will you ever forgive me
for being so selfish?

who can say
that they have
ever gone home?

If it is true that for every closed door
there is one that is open, then I have
closed every door to look for cracks
in the windows, slivers of light near
the rugs, waiting by the slot for the
mail to arrive, never blind-peeking
because I place weight on the hope
that this house will break apart and
all dust will fly from the rafters above
me, who might finally breathe the
foreign air and taste the new day

I used to say I love you in
dim, flushed moments as
if I might have an epiphany
but the sheets rustled and
you always hesitated

I once wrote about an independent life
in a reality where I supported myself on
letters from the cute mailman, salad and
eggs, where although time was constricted
my heart wasn't, and I could be happy on
a diet of keen understanding and wisdom.

It takes a while
to settle into new
choices, i would
tell you that you
will always be my
my
my
but you aren't mine
to call my, my, my
but you were my
Link.

Has anyone ever said
your name like sweet rolls?

Once in a while when the city lights
are cotton candy and the phone poles
are licorice wires against melon skies
the chatter fades to clacks like drum
beats with the wind inside my lungs
all the cheeks are red bowled Okinawa
sunsets beneath mocha stained tips
of fingers and we are all humbly aware
of the way our feet scuff against the
pavement on our way past the 5th
Avenue Theater.

i have
no one
now.

there's white ice in my ears
and I've tried to avoid this
pitter-patter palpitation for
so long, but it's here now

it's here now.

I want to be beautiful
like that, a thrifted soprano
note, high above the choir
a dipping lilt that will
hush
hush
she blooms

You turn into a pervert
without me, so what
does that say about
all the time I spend
with people when
they promise me
they are what
they aren't?

i am sometimes reminded
of why we were friends,
I see the humor in old
writing, in old pictures
but I make the silent
ultimatums that no
one can live up to
but would you
have had it any
other way?

I remember when I was young
my dad used to be the last one
at the table, because he served
himself so slowly that the rest
of us were done, by the time
he got there. So I would stay
in my seat and play with my
peas till he finished, so we
could leave together. Now
I am older and he stays up
to watch TV, I have other
things to do, but I have
to say goodnight to him
before I go upstairs
because that is the
only way i know
how to say
I love you

I don't know how to let
go of people, unintentionally
maybe I never learned. I'm
okay for a day or two, week,
tops. I sort of sink into the
corkboard, cheat the air,
clean my room.

This tree in our house
is from God, I see it
when I walk up the
stairs, he must be
telling me
something