Is it bad that I would rather lie awake
Dreaming of you
Dreaming of death
Is it bad that I break every night
My ribs cracking open
With the song of your soul
That both slices and saves
Is it bad that I cry red tears
That bleed from scars on my fragile heart
                   --..--
I am nothing but broken ribs
And blood and dust
But you hold me as if
I am something more
The roots, and not just the seeds
And when I push you away
You pull me back
and hold me close
And I accept
And I sleep
But sweetheart you will not stay for me
For you are not mine to keep
So I will lie awake
In disconnected misery
Dreaming of you
Dreaming of death

There are bells here
Silent bells
They seem so out of place
Surrounded by the immaculate stonework
And accompanied by righteous statutes
Stilled angels

Their silent echoes
Reverberate off of the people
Who stand in perfect mockery
Of the stone figures scattered about the church

All of them here to partake
In an obsolete tradition
Of grief

An unmistakably deathly feeling
Fills the air
However the feeling is foreign to me
And I cannot comprehend
This ceremony of antique sorrow

For the breathing statues Morn
As if their tears were rehearsed
and what I feel is so raw

A silent moment is called for
and as if on cue the bells toll
three times, just three

Silence, sorrow, death,
All marked by
The tolling of the bells

Paint my soul in your colors
Design me
Define me
Until we are one
Creation and creator
Imagine my lines and speak my thoughts
Put me onto paper
Understand me accept me
Take my hand
And lead me to the burning sun
Take me into the new world
Write how it
Scarred me
Jade me
Then fold me back
Into the crevasses of your mind
Close and secure
And then close your eyes
An listen as I whisper
Design me
Define me
*I am yours.

I feel the content
rolling about on my tongue
the same words
the same concepts
recycled feelings
that won't go away
no matter how many times
they’re hashed out
again and again
their delicate phrasing
varying in complexity
masked by deceiving themes
but all the same in the end
same organs, same bones
same blood, same flesh
and so as I sit
ready to write living words
I can taste the same content
I can hear the same feeling
I can see the same words
rolling about my tongue

Winter Stones
I. Her first love
was a boy that chased her around the play ground the way the wind chases leaves
Often he kept her close to the ground, but sometimes
he would spin her into small tornados  Untill she was dizzy and giggling
And sometimes he swept her up- the way wind does
Together they flew
he showed her the skies,
taught her how to manipulate the clouds and count the constellations one by one

II. She saw Galaxies in his eyes
Expansive depths that offered worlds of possibilities
And she cried when he cut his hair
Because he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen
And she knew that he was perfect with all his flaws
Because he was the sun and she the moon
And flaws were only clouds that temporarily dimmed light

III. Everyone told her
The story of how “The sun died every night to let the moon breathe”
But they had forgotten that it is the sun that rises and falls
So therefore the moon can only breathe when the sun says so.
And they forgot to mention that small tornados turn into big ones
That leaves in storms are nothing but collateral damage
And without a tree to hold them down are left and lost
to the whim of the wind

IV. All too soon
She began to find the wind suffocating
Yet salt still poured from her eyes when she realized
That leaves have no power to stay the wind
And the moon and the sun simply can’t exist at the same time

V. Still,
She never stopped loving him

VI. Then the night came
That he thought that maybe he loved her back
and when he kissed her it was with lips made of fire
Which burned her skin as easily as paper
And left her with scars when he said
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
They tell you scars are memories but really,
They just hurt

VII. They told her
That she was too young to know love
that what she had felt for him was only a shadow of love
So, logically, she could not possibly be heartbroken
But if this was only a shadow of love
Then she decided that she would go her whole life without falling
Yet her imagination still strayed
and she began to wonder if she was even capable of love
Because her pieces hadn’t quite fit back together right
And she knew
That she would never break the same way that she broke for him
Plus,
It was hard to break
When all he had left her with were bricks to build walls
And she did, tall and high

VIII. But the thing about walls
is that while they keep things out
they also keep them in
And so she was a trapped in a place without wind
But even if he had been there it wouldn't have mattered because,
She was no longer Autumn Leaves but
Winter Stones

Breaking down in pools of water
which surround me, envelop me

I am immersed
In a world tinted blue

Underwater… Under pressure

Bubbles play around me
Tempting but untouchable
For fear of fingerprints that pop

Bubbles are unreliable

Hold my hand and hold me down
Let me go and let me rise


Up Up Up to the top
To the surface…. well, almost

Foot neatly caught
In weeds too strong to snap

But maybe thats good
Maybe the surface is too real… too tangible

Maybe it’s safer here
In my world tinted blue

Maybe it’s safer here…
Breaking down in pools of water

If I were to be a day of the week,
I would be a Tuesday

Not a Monday, bright and yellow
Understanding that today “there be dragons here”
and we must be Ready to conquer, ready to claim,
ready to fight

Not Wednesday, Orange and steady
Containing a consistency that reminds us
we can make it, we will make it

And not the vibrant green Thursday  
Full of promise, anticipation
And the hope of what’s to come

But nor am I the explosive Friday
Dark, and passionate, dedicated
To the thrill and fervor of life

Or a Silver Saturday
Slick and slippery with the idea
Of adventure but that holds no guarantees

Yet still I cannot be Sunday
Muted Gold with warm mornings
and laid back afternoons but always
With the lingering remembrance of tomorrow

No, I am Tuesday

I am faded red
I am the waiting day
The looked over bridge of
What’s now, what’s next
Stuck forever in some delicate limbo

I am the stepping stone
The illusive day floating in and out
Behind the scenes, behind the week
I am tuesday