i don’t care much for attention
never was one for boisterous acts afront large audiences
i keep to myself
like a lily in the water
drifting ever-so carefully
but then again
why am i writing this?

i am the morning.
i am blood
i am buttery chocolate chip cookies
i’m probably just hungry
but you, honey,
make me feel delicious

his soft caramel eyes that turned hazel after i tainted them with my green ones.
his smooth, wavy, chocolate hair.
skin, italian-grade, like leather,
but so unlike leather—smooth with youth.

crêpes and croissants
chocolate covered strawberries
champagne in chipped glass
dipped in gold
marinating my love for him
marinating my seduction
i am a sugarcoated anomaly

diamond-crested gummy bears
caramel cappuccinos
gas stations at three A.M.
swimming naked in lakes
soft waters, slippery bodies

the kind of memories i would like to have.

my mind is a house of colors
the walls are splattered in paint
i’ve hung up diamond chandeliers
translucent—glimmering in the moonlight
splattering rainbows across the walls
maybe the paint is a figment of my imagination.

my mind is a killer whale
treading the dark foaming waters of the ocean
the great whites mock me
the great whites are listening.
i hide in the sea kelp of the great blue deep
the midnight shadows of the witching hour
caress my fins like wet rolling tapestries
endless movement
endless running waves
racing like my own heartbeat
thumping like the longest drum line

my mind is a hollow cave
humid, wet, dripping water from limestone formations
strange echoes from within its depths
i can never understand the muffled whispers
but though they petrify others
they soothe me.
i have turned to salt rock
from all the untrue words my tongue has spoken
bitter, like salt on a lime
but delicious

my mind is a dusty attic
rustic and beautiful to the creative eye
it has become an art room
with a canvas stand in the corner
and paint splattered across the dark wooden floorboards
misshapen ceilings
beautiful arcs and painted glass windows
a pretty little white picket fencing
the mailman is sleepwalking

my mind is a dream
but i’m all too awake
and i’m unsure
as to whether or not
i’m living a nightmare

her soul was in
                              t
                              ­   e
                                    c
                         ­              h
                                          n
                   ­                          i
                                               c
                                                 o
                                                    l
         ­                                             o
                  ­                                       r
                            
                                  ­                           yet she was
                                                             ­          gray,
                                                           ­    like
                                                            ­     the moon.

i dream of lighthouses,
endless lobster, and endless laughter.

i dream of coffee shops with kind baristas
and espresso
that sends surges of energy
to my toes.

i dream of kind faces
and soft waters
i am so simple
i just want the sky to be a thin sheet of light gray
and the clouds to be so low
i can walk through them.

i want everchanging leaves
so that i can change with them
but i am the girl who never leaves
i am everchanging
but i am evergreen.

put me in the ground and my roots
will tread through the dirt
kissing every pebble
dancing and diving through the air pockets
and when i reach this middle earth i dream of
who are you to tell me
i can’t?