little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

To write a ten word poem, I don't know how

They said
You either are
Or you are not
Last fall I caught a cold
They asked me "are you sick"
"Kind of"
"You either are,
Or you're not"
That same fall was the one you broke my heart
8 months later, they asked me if I still loved you
"Kind of"
Thats when I realized
I was sick last fall,
and I was still inlove with you

Please forget me, you were right dear
I am cold and self-involved
And though I'll miss you, recent lover
I am weak and therefore fold

Get distracted by my music,
Think of nothing else but art
I'll write my loneliness in poems,
If I can just think how to start

Dot my I's with eyebrow pencils,
Close my eyelids, hide my eyes,
I'll be idle in my ideals,
Think of nothing else but I

in the most
simplistic way
i wanted him
and sometimes
i wanted all of him,
every season of his
mind and body
i wanted
cutesy notes on monday
slurred i love you friday nights
lazy sunday morning breakfast
then again
i never expected anything
from him
as much as i would have loved
to be under his skin
it was enough for my heart
to simply be
on his skin

And when the sun bled o’er the hills,
the moon, she held her breath
and watched as all grew silent, still
to mourn the queenly death.
And as the burning throne she took
from on a lonely height,
I felt her eye upon me look,
a soft and dewy light
that seemed to promise everything
in wisps of pallid fire:
a thousand hopes, now quickening
in shadows of desire.
But all these dreams, they barely keep
for one night in my head;
I wake to find their remnants–heaps
of ashes in my bed.