I am adding more and more poems
No matter what they are supposed to be called
No matter what numbers would define them
This is a life; not yet mine, but
I am building a home
A place where I can feel safe
A place where I can feel ugly
without being ashamed of it
Here is a life; not yet mine, but
I am still fighting
I am fighting
And I am planning to win.

Carbonation
In the perforations
Of my pupils
Pops
Like one million little
Tiny bubbles
Swirling to the top
And I am lit

Just like a lantern on the lawn
I sway with wind 'til
Night is gone
Tumble with you
Toward the dawn

I'm up to my elbows
In Summer sun,
I've hit my funny bone;
The gangs have hit the pavement,
No one mentions home.

The towels are stretched
On sand dunes,
Water falls free and clear,
There's no time for dwelling
On one's sun-kissed despair.

There's amusement parks
And animal farms,
Camps and hiking trails;
Boats slice turquoise water,
I've daughters tugging tails.

And there,
Beneath the snuggled moon
Couples spoon,
Leaving room
For air.

We end our daily frolics
With our evening walks;
I'll find time
To lift my elbows
After equinox.

You’re still;
You’ll always be;
A part of me.
The thought of you
hits the spot
like the first time:
warm and easy.
Your home
is in my heart;
custom-made
to fit you
entirely;
still.

I dreamt love sent three kisses
Across the world to me.
She blew them from my homeland,
Across the expanse of sea.

Her first caressed
A southern breeze,
And wet an unknown shore.
There strangers slept,
Awoke, I wept,
That kiss was meant for me.

Her second swirled
On a wandering wave,
Was carried far from me,
Where it landed
On another man,
Far from the Irish Sea.

In morning rains
I stare at stones
Outside my cottage door;
The magpies flock,
They seem to mock:
"There's only one kiss more."

I'll get some rest
On that last kiss
With eyes part open,
Lips cracked,
Not broken,
When that kiss
Finds me.

"Oh" was all I was able to say
when you called my name.
And trust me,
I’m the person who never runs out of words
But here you are
Smile, stance, wits
Machismo
Bravado
And here I am
Tiny, vulnerable, awestruck
Beaming
Yours.

As I close my eyes
my senses know no bounds
my body becomes weightless
and my joyful song resounds

I try to find my bearings, and
I hold on to myself.
I've never put someone so close;
My *self upon a shelf.

Every fiber of my being
has room to stretch and grow
my steps spring forward lightly
and my smile is wide, aglow!

So come unto me, siren.
Give me room to grow and fall.
Sing for me a beacon; silly boat
Is sinking slow.

I swim to you in haste
my hair flowing wild and free
and water courses around my limbs
as minnows accompany me.

And so we're freed by water,
Unalone and unafraid.
Need no more one breath to take,
Nor single blessing said.

Will somebody please break my heart?
I need to create something beautiful and tragic.

I want to write about bones breaking
Bloodless veins dried up after endless nights of tear-soaked pillows
Cold mornings that make you dread ever waking up, mornings that even coffee can't fix

I want to write about the agonizing pain of rejection
Of isolation and desolation
I want to write about the way you (hypothetic lover), effortlessly outshine the stars
And even more effortlessly, outsmart the mess that I am (a messy woman seems more dramatic)

I don't want gardens growing from my skin when you touch me
I want your fingers to create stories and scars I can't undo

I want your anger and your hatred
I need to create something beautiful
So that I can destroy it
So that we can destroy it

Will somebody please break my heart?
I'm running out of disasters to write about.

It's a long enough train to fit
7,248,075,000 passengers. And
Counting.

Seats added with every
Birth. By now
Most

Wonder whether it'll
Ever be slowing down to
Stop. And what

To do when
The doors
Open.

I lean back on my factory-fresh
Couch (that still smells of IKEA)
And turn that Jeff Buckley's Grace
Up so loud the cat escapes under

The bed; ears flat, wide eyed...
And remember. I flip through
My own history -forgotten love,
Nights of such beauty they

Forged themselves onto my
Mind. I see myself stronger;
Dumber. Rougher hands and
Mind.

I hear Chris Cornell and Tori
Amos in shared recollection.
I walked Oslo's paved streets
From a job I loathed.

But it was summer.
I was free.
I was a rock star waiting
To be.

I see hopes I had that remind me
It's not too late for that.
And begin to resonate with
This is your time.

This is when you choose your
Future. Choose.
It's never too late for
Anything.