He's sitting on the toilet,
he's late for work again,
he's toiling in the blackened fields
to redress the sins of men.

The letters have stopped coming,
the pen-pal moved address,
the money he had been saving
somehow counts for less.

Mother is calling daily,
mother is sleeping in,
mother takes a pill for her dementia,
and another one for her skin.

Windows are for the sunsets,
windows are for looking out,
windows infer the world's existence,
and yet he is filled with doubt.

Doubt for the academics,
doubt for the pilgrims too,
doubt for days of greener grass
of which he has seen so few.

He's waiting in the orchard,
he's eating from the tree,
he's choosing freedom from superstition,
and he is striving to be free.

Maybe I should
shoot you,
          and maybe you should
    shoot me.
But in the end,
      it really won't change
                         a thing;
          you're just
an awful
         human being.

And i could pick every petal off every flower in every country, and still would you love me not.

There are parts of you that make you who you are,
And parts that don’t.
Parts of you, that without them,
You don’t feel like you belong to the group you
Once associated with.
Having my ******* removed in order to enter remission
And beat breast cancer
Feels like my womanhood has been lost.
Flat chested takes on an entirely different meaning.
It’s crazy how I hear women
Wishing that their ******* weren’t so small
But they don’t know what it’s like
To have no ******* at all.
Or that they wish their hair was longer
When mine is the length of the guard
On an electric razor that my husband uses.
How does a man begin to love a woman
That has scars where her ******* should be?
The hair on my head has yet to grow back, even a little bit.
Reminding me only that I’m still a woman
Is the gift Mother Nature sends each month.
The cramps in my abdomen seem ten times less
Compared to heaving an empty stomach
Into a pan or toilet bowl next to me
After the chemicals have entered my system.
Throwing up from morning sickness
As my unborn child has just started to live
Told me that I was indeed a woman.
But now after she has grown and must
Watch her mother battle cancer,
Lose her hair, throw up nothing but emptiness,
And she still tells me that I’m the
Most beautiful woman on the planet.
How do I tell her that I feel like
An alien from Mars?

I'm starting to think that it's rare to find someone who doesn't have a piece of their heart left in someone else's hands that maybe there is no such thing as a true love just the love that comes last just the love that nobody else has to try to one-up I'm starting to think that maybe my dad is still in love with my mom and his new wife doesn't mind because maybe when you get older you realize that there is no such thing as wholeheartedly loving someone only loving them with the pieces that are left and maybe my girlfriend is still in love with her best friend because I saw the way he looked at her and I tried not to be jealous when they went off on their own at that party and I heard a girl say that she calls their relationship "complicated" and what the hell does that make me am I the complication and I'm trying not to be jealous but I've never made her laugh like he does and I'll probably never know her like he does and maybe all I can hope for is for her to love him from afar and love me up close maybe he is her house back in Mississippi and I am her new apartment maybe if she puts up curtains it will feel more like home I cannot explain the aching I felt in my chest when my last boyfriend said I reminded him of his ex it feels like the piece of my heart he was holding starting bleeding like maybe an artery sprung a leak because I am like her but not quite she is mural and I am replica she is mountain range and I am photograph she is morning walks on the beach and I am jar of sand I knew he was in love with her I could tell by the way he said her name after he ****** me I thought maybe second best was good enough I thought maybe if I do my make up like she does he will call me pretty today the ****** up part is that it worked the sad part is he didn't know why it hurt so bad maybe I am just hypersensitive maybe my girlfriend only loves him as a friend maybe by complicated she meant he loved her but she couldn't love him back but that's what I've been saying about that boy that said he loved me I keep telling myself I don't love him but on lonely nights he is the one I want to talk to he is always there in the back of my mind I wear his jacket when I want to feel safe because my girlfriend will probably never know me like he does maybe I will love him from afar and love her up close maybe he is my house before my dad moved out and she is his new place maybe if I hang up some paintings it will feel more like home I cannot explain the aching I felt in my chest when he said he loved me

I haven't been kissed for so long that every mouth I see screams 'possibility'.