Fresh after the rain
I hike in the woods.
The leaves are turning to
yellow yams, auburn brick, pumpkin pie.
The ground is wet and the wood is damp.
The leaves lay vibrant on their death bed.
I turn around.
I see through the spaces
fallen flowers,
departed shrubs,
vanished birds,
the trees that once protected my eyes from the placid lake.
The air is bright with mist.
The grey sky surrounds me.
The cold breeze comforts my skin,
and forgives my lungs.
I take it all in.
But the cold air can never forgive
the dying trees and life dissolved.
Others will pass by.
Leaves will crunch and crumble
under feet that won’t realize the forest decline.
The music to their ears will return each year.
But the crunch will fade.
Less trees, less leaves.
A Decrescendo,
A whisper.
Silence.

I feel like water
Transparent
Fluid
I can’t commit to your mold
I can drown out your eyes
Roll down and salt your tongue
Drip on your chest
Smear against your lips
but try to contain me
Tip me over and I’ll spill
Tick me off and I’ll boil over
Walk away and I will freeze
I want a color
A flavor
A shape
I want to be distinct
But all I can do is flow
Gravity pulls me where it wants
And it’s out of my control

Worry is the runner on my mind;
it races around the circular track without knowing the finish line
My chest is heavy with the weight of stress
I am stuck in a riptide
tossing and turning to avoid suffocation
waves of regret collapse over me
I breathe in their salty disposition
It spills out my tear ducts
I drown in my thoughts and bathe in drowsiness
I choke on feathers and the counted sheep
Red eyes so fixed on the clock that creeps
Oh how I loathe the evening heap.

chest pain and it's getting harder to breathe
tornados hyperventilating through my lungs
ocean tides are rising
blurring out my vision
desert waves of heat burning up my skin
the rage of an amazonian fire
scalding my hopes and dreams
vertebrae line my spine like jagged mountain peaks
rips in my nail beds
the parting red sea
callous on my hands the way you were callous to me

leaves crunching under feet
at dusk, the sky dark blue
fading into a desolate, enveloping black
wind howling through the rustling leaves
faint owl hoots echo in the eerie silence
brushing thorns with fingertips
crimson red paints the soil
tip-toeing on branches across forest streams
like tightrope walkers
with a thousand feet below them
holding their breath
silhouettes bleed into the night
and so do I

I’m the hidden book,
Leather bound
Threads fraying
On the top shelf.
You like the paperbacks
And hardcovers,
Pretty titles
And modernity.
But please know
I’m collecting dust
and I deserve a chance.
Just this once,
Brush me off
And open my pages.
Read my story.
I promise I won’t leave you hanging.

yellow lights flicker at night
like freckles through the fog.
checkered punctures in the sky
glow with their auburn flame.
they flicker with the wind and winding turns.
they gleam near smoke stacks on factory towers.
the sound is calm.
the percussion of murky water
rolling toward the bulkhead
echoes through the city of embers.
the darkest grey lays behind
steel bars and race cars,
searching for a purpose
beside dashed street lines,
soon to be solid white
and permanent.

The day I realized 
among willow trees
and lilac fields
that I was just like the others,
that the holes in your watering can
weren’t made for me,
that I have been starving myself of life,
withering, wilting, weeping away
I let go.

I’ve walked through storms
I’ve climbed mountains
And crawled through ditches in the dirt
To realize
that rain provides more shelter than your words ever will
that my reflection does not define my beauty
that my molten eyes do not determine my strength
that I can grow without you.

I’ve learned to root myself in something else
stem by stem
leaf by leaf
I pulled away from the need 
to feel validated by 
your sunlight and attention.

In years to come
You will find
that all along you forgot to water me
and the drops will spill on barren land
when you learn that
I have traveled
to a garden of my own.

Reality is the illusion of twinkling lights
flying on a jet plane
leaves of trees covering and uncovering
glimpses of peeking light
flicker on and off
from such great heights
surrounded by a halo
gleaming warmth through frosted glass
when you descend to the earth
a stagnant faint stream of light
illuminates streets
where working people lay
forgoing their dreams

Chocolate bars melting through hands
Sand slipping through toes
Tears rolling down lips
Blood burning through noses
Balloon slips from grip
Stretched wide with hopes and dreams
Floating on to Neverland
Never to be seen

I have bruises on my lips
From biting so hard
Fighting against my tears
A war against my quivering mouth
No dig in my palm
Could be so deep
To distract me from the pain
Of your broken promises
I’m picking at the seams
Of my cuticles until I bleed
Rolling tears until I sleep
Shaking until I’m at peace

In this lonely cave of mine 
miners mine the winding way
seeking glitter and gold
but filling lungs with dust and coal 
the walls are crumbling
like sugar snaps
that rot your teeth
for even trying to indulge 
I don’t deserve the toil
I pray my thoughts take the day shift
because I can’t afford overtime
and all these **** taxes
I feel like certain songs hold up walls better than beams
and hearts better than strings 
and minds better than skulls
and bodies better than spines
melodies pulse and sway
like flickering flames
they fill the darkest space with warm poetry
and alone, not lonely
I sleep tonight