My room is clean
but there's still dust
The books are put away
but not in order
The sheets are on my bed
but it's not made
The laundry is done
but not put away

My mom would call this Spring cleaning
I'd say it's just me getting better
and she'd tell me they're one in the same
She knows a thing or two about dusty shelves
and cobweb corners

you and i have been the moon and sea
clouds and trees
never and infinity

we have been earth and sky
day and night
from the darkness comes your light

it's in your sea salt tears
my stardust air
you and i are everywhere

we shall meet again
death is not the end
in another life
our story begins

and so we mourn again
another queer girl killed
at the red hands of men

a bullet meant for another
and a thousand hearts bleed

an old wound reopened
a pain that never fades

and so we dig a grave
another queer girl killed
time to bury our gays

They look at you like you're the sun
too bright

You give them light and life
but they look at their shadows
and blame you for the darkness
it's always the sun's fault

don't you know you burn too hot on cloudless days?
don't you care how cold it gets when you're away?

well, maybe you never wanted to be the sun
maybe you don't know how to be anything else

Find me praying to the trees
Find me talking with the leaves
Find me with my head in the ground
and my feet stuck in the clouds

I'll tell you its easier this way -
to walk along the air's byways
if I keep my eyes shut tight
and shy away from the light

They carve away my saccharine heart,
arteries and all,
leaving behind a peach pit
encased in cyanide walls

The sugar would have killed me -
the sentimentality cementing me in the past
They meant to set me free,
but there is little worse
than choking on my own apathy

i. First comes the calm

Hold it in
Keep it close
Never let them see
the clouds and wind and rain
edging in,
past the coast
or else they'll flee
Take your time
to build up strength 
You'll need it in the coming days

ii. Then comes the storm

Racing heart
Sweaty palms
The rain clouds burst
Let it out
Let them see
what you've become
and what they've done,
though you'll likely regret it
come morning sun

iii. The calm always returns again

Look at this mess
You've done it again
See what happens
when you let emotion win?
Grab a mop, a broom
and, maybe, a friend or two
Clean up the mistakes,
hide them away,
and save them for a rainy day

The wind blows on a listless night
and I remember the one's left behind
They're calling out to me
from the rustling tree leaves
No louder than a whisper
No softer than a scream

And on the days like this 
I think about the moon 
and if she's ever felt amiss
Maybe she's been here, too
Has she ever been oblivious
to her bright nights of full
until the waning turns her listless
and destroys her uncommon mood

Little girl wanders through the woods -
lost, shrunken, and barefoot
She leaves small holes in her wake,
Hansel and Gretel-ing a path of lost and unfound 

Little girl is searching for something
she buried and abandoned long ago
A pirate searching for hidden treasure
with no map and waning hope

Her heart
She knows it must be here
The one in her chest is wrong
It's too cold
and beats to a tune she's never heard
It reminds her of ravens
and their slow, melancholy flight
Far too unlike the sparrow's flutter
she was once so familiar with

Little girl has become frightened;
convinced this new heart will **** her
The honey in her veins has been replaced
with arsenic and vinegar and spite

Little girl needs her sparrow heart back,
feeling like a different person without it
She has no love or passion now
and mistrusts any kindness in others

Like an abused dog
The helping hand that cares
is a curled fist waiting to happen
and though she knows the saying,
she cannot help but to bite
Anyone who comes too close says,
"She's a good girl, but be careful
That one comes with a sharp wit
and a sharper bite"

Little girl grows more tired every day
She can't take much more of this;
of the endless search for something
that's too far gone to return

Little girl stands at the edge of the woods,
having admitted to herself a hard truth
She'll never get her old heart back, 
but this new one has potential if she let's it grow

On the edge,
with darkness behind and light ahead,
she's split on what to do
She looks ahead and knows
all she needs is water and sunlight
to help this new self bloom
She looks behind and knows
all she wants is a little more time
to remember who she was before
Moving forward is painful, but right
Going back is useless, but safe
Old heart or new?
All she needs to do is choose

My heart is full of ghosts of people not yet dead,
loves I never had,
and places I'll never stop calling home.
My heart is the ghost,
walking the same path, day in and day out,
passing through the walls I have long since put up around myself.
My heart calls to me, late at night,
like an abandoned dog tied to a tree,
and begging for home.
It says to me, "I am not a peach pit!
I could still love if you'd let me!"
My heart is naive, so I force-feed it sour memories,
water it in an ocean of tears I've saved
from letting people in and watching them walk away.
I watch, with bittersweet satisfaction, 
as my hound dog heart remembers the pain we've endured;
the way it crumples in on itself in agony.
I say to it, "No, you are not a peach pit, but
neither of us are strong enough to let you be anything less."

Plagiarism is the seventh deadly sin of writing
Not only does it hurt the owner, but it also hurts you in time
Why do you need another's words to be noticed and set apart?
Those little red hearts aren't worth **** if it's not your art

Don't you feel incomplete?
Isn't it bitter without the sweet?
Can you not use your own voice?
Do you not feel guilt or remorse?
Don't you have things to say?
Or is likes all you seek in this day?
If that's true,
then I've got news
This won't make you happy
Happy comes from within
(or with some therapy)

But you will not find accolades
in claiming words you didn't say!
If writing is a passion you wish to pursue,
then, by all means, continue
With some practice, you might just be
as good as you lie to make us believe

No one talks about how hard it is to leave
Being the one who walks away
can break a heart just as thoroughly as being left
I should know
I have played both parts of this story

I should not have to feel guilty for choosing me
when you chose yourself long before
This was not selfishness
This was self-preservation 
I won't let myself regret learning how to swim

...

Sometimes I regret not drowning with you;
I wonder what it's like sleeping in a bed of seaweed,
but this is a bad train of thought
and I will not go down this path again
I'm still actively picking me

Some might say I should have taught you to swim as well
or pulled you back to safety,
but we both know I tried
I fought like hell trying to pull you out of that self-made current
Maybe I just wasn't strong enough

I don't know what I'm trying to say
I'm sorry?
I'm not sorry?
The effects of our friendship still have me spluttering on the shore,
coughing up saltwater and unspoken apologies

Some days are bad
Some days I don't believe in me
Some days I can't see a happy ending
not in this life
not in this reality
Some days I have to imagine myself
in an alternate world
just to make it through a day in this one

Some days are better
Some days I have faith in me
Some days I can hear laughter miles ahead
this is my life
this is my reality
Some days I do exactly what I should
to create my ideal world
and those days are easier than this one

Some days are easy,
but other days
I'm chasing memories 
of a different me

I am constantly rewriting lines
I am always retracing my steps
I am stuck reworking my code
I am lost in reconfiguration

A skipping records plays
(plays, plays, p-p-plays)
and I am caught in-between
here and there and where I want to be

Self care is showering 
for the first time in a week
It's remembering to eat
And pushing through my anxiety 
when the phone rings

Self care is gritty
It's ***** and rough and almost living

Learning to love myself is a dark, twisted path
full of thickets and chiggers 
and shadows trying to lure me astray

It's trying to understand
that I am worth more than my broken parts
That I can be more than a peach pit heart
with arsenic pumping through my veins

Self care is knowing no one can save me from me
I will rescue myself
I can be my own hero

Self care is broken knuckles and ****** knees
from fighting my own castle walls
It is meeting myself in a battle of will
and being aware I might not succeed

Self care is pushing on,
when all the signs scream run away,
because I've been running for too long

So, at least for now,
I'll face the danger of self care

I used to think it was strange
that we became estranged
It burned me up internally 
that we weren't friends eternally
I somehow didn't understand
that we held destruction in our hands

Leaky roofs and faulty wires
tend to cause house fires
and, sister, we burned them all
so, it's no surprise we had to fall

Our laughter was a siren's song
Banshees wailed all night long
With my lightning and your rain 
we became a sunny day's bane

I was naive to think before
the world could stand our perfect storm

Come wade through 
my blue eyes' shallow pool
Tread careful across
my heart's unsteady floorboards
Do not fall for
my laughing throat's pretty words
Bundle up against
my mind's drafty corridors

Careful now, love
Many dangers lurk here

Little girl, what happened to you?
Little girl of chocolate milk 
and dandelions

You were so free
Sure you cried easy,
but you laughed freely too

Little girl, what have I done to you?
Little girl of day dreams
and make-believe

Your heart was so big
Maybe it was bruised at times,
but it always bounced right back

Little girl, I'm so sorry
You would be so disappointed 
to see what we've become

I lost you over time,
piece by piece,
like an old lego set

Out of broken glass
and cigarettes,
we became something new

It's hard to believe I was once you
That I was ever so pure
Now I'm what we never wanted to be

Little girl, I miss you
Little girl, I need help
Little girl, please come back

I am pockmarked with battle scars
invisible to everyone but me
The world has waged a war on me
that I still don't want to fight
Armed with nothing,
prepared by no one,
I have only survived through trickery,
slight of hand,
and stubbornness
Childishly, I consistently cover my eyes,
ignoring the monsters looming in the shadows
"If I can't see Them, They can't see me"
Still, these monsters come
Resisting Them has made me weak
and They only grow stronger,
feeding off me,
leeching out all the color,
and turning my world gray
Soon, we will come to a ******
where I must fight Them head-on
I know I will lose
There is no denying that
My doom crawls ever-near
Now it's just a matter of time

There will be days
when it feels like the sun
is trying to burn you alive
There will be weeks
when it feels like the moon
is your only friend
And there will be months
when it feels like you live on
cigarettes and instant ramen
These are the bad times
We're still in the bad times
but I'm trying to get better
for you

I cannot be still
My mind runs
My legs bounce
My hands twitch
I wander
I don't know the meaning of permanence
Everyone leaves
Everything changes
How am I supposed to put down roots
when my life is a constant landslide?

You're in kindergarten
and all the girls have a crush on Charlie
You pretend to like him too,
but can't help staring at Katie
You're eight years old
when your aunt takes your barbies away
after she sees you make the two girls kiss
You're in middle school
and you see your two best friends kiss
It makes uncomfortable
and you don't know why
You're sixteen,
reading seventeen magazine
There's an article about kissing girls
and you read it too many times
You're a Senior
and you're so confused
because you daydream
about kissing the girl with soft hair
You're twenty-one now
and things are much more clear
It's hard to imagine
how it took you so long to figure out

Slow down, butterfly heart
You're pumping life too fast
It disturbs the hummingbirds
fluttering through my mind
Take a beat
Be calm
I will inject daisies into my veins
so you have a place to rest

My home before the last was a hard place
I was in a hard place
You were in a hard place too
We've kind of always been similar in that way
Hell, we share a name
But similar isn't always a good thing
Head-butting was to be expected
With you having two
and mine having horns,
I'm surprised we didn't cause more damage
(We should have torn the roof off old Ward Street)
We were in a hard place
But you bought a hydrangea bush for me
and I... sung along to Dancing Queen
We made the best out of our hard place, Gemini
A basement cleared of cobwebs
Coffee after a hard day of nursing school
However, we also made that hard place
even worse for each other at times
and I'd like to apologize,
but I've never been good at showing weakness
My hands shake
and my eyes become lakes
I'd like to say I've forgiven everything
but this salt still burns

Sometimes, I remember the good before the bad
It feels like that hydrangea is blooming all over again
and I can hear your smile when ABBA plays
I think I'm on the right path,
but I've always been clumsy
So, if you've already made it through,
please be patient as I stumble.
And, hey,
maybe I'll forget what was so hard about that hard place.

I never thought I could relate to a planet,
but today I learned Pluto's heart is a frozen wasteland.

I'm waiting in line and
There's a dark space ahead
In the other queues, people move on
and come out different
I cannot step in

The girl behind me says
"Miss, it's your turn."
As if I'm simply distracted
and not brimming with fear
I cannot step in

People are moving to other lines
I'm an inconvenience
The cashier smiles
and motions me forward
I cannot step in

I shift my head around,
trying to see what lies within
There's nothing there
It's worse than I expected
I cannot step in

I've been here for years
People whisper about me;
About the girl who won't move
and how she likely never will
I cannot step in

As a child, the adults in my family called me Bubba Gump
because Bubba almost sounded like my first nickname
and I have legs like Forest Gump.
When I ran, they would call out "Run, Bubba, run!"
and I would laugh because I didn't understand their cruelty.

I was put into the Gifted class when I was eight
and my mom was so proud of me.
She once referred to the class as special
and, since I already spoke with a stutter,
my aunts and uncles turned special into an insult.

My canine teeth stick out from the rest
and when I smile, that's all people see.
By fourteen, I had come to understand
that odd physical features and mean names
are a package deal, so
I came up with "vampire teeth", to let people know
I was aware of my abnormality.

I was drawn with an unsteady, jerking hand
and I'm okay with that.
It's become second nature to point out my own flaws
with a laugh in my throat.
I can see how uncomfortable people get when I do this
because it's okay for them to notice,
but not for me to notice them noticing.
Well, that's fine.
I'm just not going to apologize for my jagged lines.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder
was a **** liar
or, maybe, they had a stronger heart than mine,
which is likely.
I smoke too much.
Either way, it doesn't seem to apply to me.
Distance makes my heart forgetful.
Somehow, I've only just realized
it's been twelve days since we last spoke
through words on a screen.
Fifteen since your voice was last deconstructed
and sent to me through signals in the air that I breathe.
Months have passed from that day you don't remember.
The day I said goodbye;
my heart heavy with finality.
How is that possible?
How can I go days without thinking about you?
You were the fox to my hound,
the Piglet to my Poo,
the Abed to my Troy.
I said once that I felt our connection was severed
and I think I actually understand what that means now.
It means when I saw an old lady
drive her car through someone's lawn,
my first thought wasn't how funny you'd find that.
It means when I listen to our favorite band,
I no longer recognize the lines you love.
It means that when I think of family,
there is no one left.
It means my new neighbor no longer offers me sugar
because I don't look so bitter anymore.
You were the last person I had.
Now, all I have is ghosts and a forgetful heart.

Three cups of sadness
Another two of anxiety
Then add a dash of restlessness,
a tablespoon of apathy,
and, hey, a couple more
of self-loathing
Now a pinch of salt for
one can't be bitter enough
and bake until there's smoke

I can't write honest poetry
Which is not to say that
the ones I've written are lies
(They might be; I wouldn't know)
But I can't seem to find the truth
My truth
I have buried my heart beneath six feet of fear
and my fingernails are caked with dirt
from trying to dig it back up again

Hey there, lost girl
I know things have been tough
I know life has roughed you up
and I know Peter always taught you
to never grow up, but honey
"Never is an awfully long time."

Besides, you know what else Peter taught?
You can fly!
But you have to believe
and I really need you to believe
So, please, close your eyes,
picture your happiness,
take that leap,
and fly straight on till morning

I grew up as a peach
I was full of water
and a pinprick would open a dam
I had soft skin
that bruised easily
I was bright and delicious
and everyone wanted a bite

I have become a cactus
I'm still full of water
though a pinprick ain't worth a ****
I have soft skin
protected by spines
I am rough and unpleasant
and no one dares to take a bite

I come from the land of grime
Of slaps and snack cakes and stray cats
And many petty crimes

I caught lice eight times before I  started school
My world was loud and I thought those anger fits were the norm
But that's how it is when you're raised by fools

I come from that side of town
With drugs and ****** and broken swing sets
And everything tinged brown

Here is where we wallow in mold and **** -
All the things you'd scrap off the bottom of your shoe
And somehow the streetlights were never lit...

But this was my world
This is my world

I was quite literally dragged through the mud
And every time I staggered back to my feet
I was swept away again by a sudden flood
Or shoved back down beneath the elite

Now when I tell you this is where my soul was forged
With red hot fury of the beaten and the ******
Do not mistake me for a simple woman scorned
For that is only a title for what makes me who I am

When I say my heart was shaped by the hands of vile men
And the hesitant, shaking fingers of those as fragile as me
You need to know that this is the reason for my estrangement
Though am I not defined by those who touched me with greed

Where I come from shaped me
But there is much more lying beneath

I am grime and mold and crime
I am daisies and fire and bumblebees
I am salt and Twizzlers and a loosened vault

And this I can proudly claim:
I am no longer ashamed

I have found myself on the island
of misfit toys, broken dreams, and lost things.
Not so much as found myself,
but more like I jumped overboard
a sinking ship and reluctantly drifted
to the only place I seemed to fit.
Things are pretty grim here.
The wind whistles with despair and
missed opportunities.
The sun shines very rarely and, when it does,
it's too bright for our fragile eyes
because we're just too used to the darkness.
The shores are quiet lovely though.
They're the divider between our world and the real one.
We can sit and warily observe others living
without having to actually partake.
These times are tinged bittersweet however,
because as much as we would like to deny,
we are envious of how those people move about the world
as if it isn't a place to be feared.
It's not all bad here,
no matter how we might complain.
We make the island what it is.
In return, it lets us simply be.

I.
I look both ways when crossing the street
even if the light is green and it's 3 am.
I sleep with a light on and my door locked,
though I know the danger of locking the door
counteracts the safety of the light.
I don't drink, even in trusted company
and I definitely don't let it bother me that I'm missing out.
I've learned from other's mistakes.
II.
I cry when scolded by authority figures,
but not when I've been betrayed.
I never go to sleep on time
especially when I really should.
I say everything on impulse
and shut down when faced with anything I don't like.
I don't learn from my own mistakes.

Is there a word for the feeling of desperate hopelessness that only presents itself in the early hours of warm mornings? Is there a word for when you can actually feel a bond you have with someone begin to fray? Is there a word for the way the sun sometimes shines through a window and you can suddenly see an entire galaxy of dust?

There should be. I think whatever the word is, it must be the same for all three.

Ah, there she is
Do you see her?
Yes, her
Eyes soft,
like morning dew
Inviting smile,
like a summer morning
"Who is she?"
...If only I knew

"Goodbye, I guess..." :
The last words I spoke to you
and I saw that look in your eyes
like you weren't able to understand
what was going on.
Like you were Tod and I was Widow Tweed
in that scene you loved but I hated
because I couldn't handle the pain in those fox eyes.
(Goodbye may seem forever,
Farewell is like the end)
I felt our connection fray
and I was no longer grasping at threads,
trying to keep us together like I said I always would.
I'm sorry I broke my promise
but you broke a hundred of yours first.
I jogged away, hoping the momentum
would keep me together for a little while longer.
Still, my heart resisted, begging to go back
and I compromised, glancing to where you were
only to see empty space on a forever haunted sidewalk.
(But in my heart's a memory
and, there, you'll always be)

My shoulders aren't strong enough
to carry all your emotional baggage.
They are weak.
It's been a long journey and
I haven't even crossed the half-way point.
I am not a mule.

My heart does not have enough empty space
to store your repression and sadness.
It is small.
Last year was hard and
A harder one has already begun.
I am not a locker.

My eyes don't have an endless amount
of tears to spare for your sob stories.
They are tired.
These eyelids are heavy, but
They will not close until it's time to rest.
I am not a fountain.

My ears are far too sorely over-sensitive
to suffer through your shouts.
They are in pain.
They've heard enough of mine and
They will endure many more.
I am not  the void.

My mind is simple in a way that won't let it
sift through and solve your issues.
It is strained.
The last few problems have been hard and
The most recent is seemingly unsolvable.
I am not your therapist.

My shoulders are wide
My heart is open
My eyes are gentle
My ears are accepting
My mind is alert

I know I am the easy choice.
I am the easy choice
when you just need someone.
I want to help.
I swear I do.
But I am worn down to my core
and the wind is chilling.

People seem to believe that I am a terribly angry person
That I'm never quite satisfied with anything
As if I'm a volcano constantly edging on near eruption
I admit, this isn't entirely untrue
I am filled to the brim with red-hot lava
I am burning with the intensity for a better life
But, what many haven't realized is I'm not all that angry
The world sets me off at times, but it's not the real problem
In the same way that global warming can't be blamed on the sun
There is an anger within me
A rage fueled by my own shortcomings
I can't really rant about myself though, can I?
So, everyone and everything else has become my punching bag

Like a stale cup of joe
and cigarette smoke
Like endlessly writing
and saying nothing
Like crying for no reason
to match the rainy season
Like the void is too strong
and I'm barely holding on

When you die, I promise to care
I'll remember how you were before
And forget when you weren't there

I'll speak of those summers past
Our smiles and laughter
"Oh, how those days went too fast!"

Recall the life we so adored
Relive those memories one more time
Then finally close the door

Dear, mother, I swear to you this
If only you promise to sleep in bliss

I feel as though I am stuck in the purgatory of my life
It's my own fault, I know
The rain pours and I just wait for someone to show me the light

My bones ache
I'm soaked to my core
The emptiness in my soul is drowning and, still, I wait

Doing anything is becoming more and more difficult by the day
My existence is getting heavier, but lighter
I fear that I will soon spill everything and float away

There's something wrong with me
I know it
I feel it
In the pit of my chest
A dull ache
I want to plunge myself into a lake and breathe

my mind is an abyss: completely devoid of any original thought

My shoes still have dried mud around the soles from that day in the woods
It was one of the happiest days I've had in such a long while
The season is new, I have aged, and life has been reborn
So much has changed in these few, short months
Yet, nothing really has
I'm still sad, they're still gone, and there's still mud on my favorite shoes

She lived too fast
Loved too hard
Felt too much

The experiences built up
up and up
They piled all around, clouding her vision
Closing her eyes was easy

The loves crashed hard
harder each time
Those losses created cracks, shattering her heart
Stopping her heart was welcome

The pain came often
so, so often
That hurt brought shadows, darkening her soul
Releasing her soul was freedom

Life became dull
Love turned sour
Feeling was weak

She stopped

I no longer have all of my
soul.
Shards lost and stolen so long ago,
by monsters and men,
both great and small,
have left me with hardly enough love to spare.

I no longer have all of my
mind.
Thoughts fading and forgotten with time,
as others became,
both great and small,
have left me wishing for the past to return.

I no longer have all of my
heart.
Fragments given and never returned,
for unjust causes,
both great and small,
have left me regretting more than I can bear.

My Heart, Mind, and Soul
are missing many parts, but
you can have what's left.