Her brown eyes crept up to me.
Delicate and wide.

I could see the love of her mother,
And pride of her father.

A universe stretched out farther then the eye could see,
Filled with shining stars,
And faceless scars.

Her stare had an ingenious beauty.
Like a meadowless daisy.

Her glare had an artless grace,
Like colorless vase.

This glow was naive from the broken lives,
Wondering on this fallen world.

This credulous light,
Waiting to be ripped by jealousy.

I almost wanted to hold her there,
Away from the horrors in life.
Far from Apollyon's hands,
Like a guardian in the night.

Her innocents daring to walk on this thin rope,
Called hope.

Then, I saw with my waking eyes.
A white aisle covered by heavens flowers,
Congregations starring at her beautiful smile.
Oh, what a lovely mile.

For, there I knew
Her life was a magnificent design-
That wasn't mine.

I let her go into the hands of the divine,
Where she waits for her Valentine.

Oh, Lord I know you will hold her tight,
As she waits for her fearless knight.

Darkness covered the skies,
While my body was restless with the tides.
I tried not to wait for the sunrise,
Because, it just reminded me of your eyes.

I remember holding you in my arms,
While surrendering to the stars,
Hoping to never fall apart.

The touch of your hand with mine,
The smell of Calvin Klein,
The taste of cherry wine,
Intoxicating me inside.

I didn't see this in cards,
Or the rolling dice in our hearts.

I imagined a future,
With the definition of forever.

But, now I see-
We were never meant to be.

When tomorrow comes,
Without the taste of ***,
We will find someone.

Now it is time for me to go,
And leave this pain for the runaways-
So, Goodbye, my Summer's Day!

You won't need a critic

You are the best critic of your work

Trust me.

Close your eyes and question yourself

You will get answers

MY CHILDHOOD ROOM
FEELS LIKE A MUSEUM
no matter how many times
I dust the shelves.
The trophies look more plastic than ever
and the cat collection is a little out of hand.
The books are still my pride and joy
but their covers haven’t been caressed in
years?

Has it really been
years?

I light a candle and cradle my thoughts in my cranium
tapping my toes in tandem with
THE TERRIBLE SQUEAK in my ceiling fan
I asked my mom to get that fixed
does she forget everything when I’m not home
do the doors go unlocked when I’m not home
do the cats go unfed
does the truth go unsaid
WHY DO I NO LONGER FIT MY CHILDHOOD BED.

In the silence I can hear her.
I hear the little girl with the long braided hair
ask her mom for a book
For Christmas.
I envy her.

This Christmas  my list consisted of things
I know my mom can’t buy.
This year I asked for peace, for a stable career after college,
for a meaningful relationship that doesn’t
breed in the dark cracks of insecurity and small talk.
I asked for love, I asked for bathroom mirrors to stop insulting me,
and for people at grocery stores to smile more.
I asked for patience, I asked for the sun to show her face a little longer
so  I could finish everything I promised I would do.
I asked for joy, I asked for rainfall I could dance in, for a snowstorm where I can make snow angels and not care about the ice
that slides down my sleeve
I asked for knowledge, I asked for the stories of the unheard to be shouted from the skyscrapers
and for politicians TO STOP SCREAMING.
I asked for trust, I asked for lying to be illegal
and for people to feel safe when they hold out their hearts
in front of them.

I asked for someone to listen.
Because I know I can’t do this by myself.
It’s okay that we don’t fit out childhood beds
and growing up means growing out
of our once-favorite things.

We can stop asking
for books for Christmas–
as long as we write a new one
together.

~~¤~~

S-weetest ever, sweetest heart
W-earing a smile, I love so much
E-veryday, everynight
E-very moment of my life
T-hankful I am for your gift
H-eart of mine wants to receive
E-very drop of your rain
A-sk me now if there is pain
R-ead my eyes, my lips, my deeds
T-rue love of mine, you're all I need

~~¤~~

You only listen to clouds once they’ve rumbled,
And once they strike you wonder
How you could’ve possibly missed the warnings.
Lightning strikes so fast, it takes everyone aback,
But didn’t you see them shift?
Two dark bodies slamming into each other:
Colliding with rage and silent fear,
Conducting something sporadic and deadly,
Only to leave nothing but an echo and a reminiscing glow in the dark sky.
Sometimes it starts a fire, or takes a life,
But I love to watch it dance across the sky:
I shouldn’t.
Something so tragic and deadly should not fill me with awe,
Shouldn’t make me study and wonder --
Should make me cower and weep and mourn.
Lighting strikes so fast, it takes everyone aback.
It is the action to the voice the clouds whisper at night,
It is the last cry of rage or loneliness or fear,
It is sudden, but not without warning or precursor
You just have to be aware enough:
Watch as they dance.
See them cry and shake,
Listen to the rumble of their voice,
Feel the electricity dancing on the soft hairs of your arms,
Smell the damp city sidewalks,
Taste the copper on their tongue,
Watch as they dance across the sky:
Lightning struck so fast, it took everyone aback.

I've been sifting through
the scrawls and scribbles
written on some whim

passed by, not followed up
like lights that shine too dim

anyone can write a poem
it seems innate somehow
anyone can write a poem
except for me right now

When you said hello,
I said goodbye to every other person
I had ever met

When you said goodbye,
I heard goodbye from every other person
All in one moment