Your beauty is contagious
and I’m allergic to it.
Your presence makes my eyes water
and heart race faster.
Almost as fast as
the wind racing
in the eye of a hurricane.
My throat swells up
to a point where
I can barely speak.
My head starts spinning
clockwise and counterclockwise.
Simultaneously.
I’m barely aware
of my surroundings.
The sound of your voice
splits the tiny hairs
of my earlobe.
Accented with a sexiness
I could listen to
all day long,
intently and uninterrupted.
Even after I wipe the water
from the bottom lids
of my eyes
I still find your beauty
difficult to look at for too long.
Like it can only be taken
in small dosages,
otherwise the effect is too strong.
Allergies are unpleasant
to deal with,
but the reaction I draw
from your contagion
is worth the side effects.

I heard we
ran out of papers
so you ran up
around the walls
of this house-
thoughts scribbling
on them like the paint
we could not decide upon;
like a troubled mentalist
looking for solace
the sound of your pen
against the walls-
how they went from
flowing to screeching-
hands now bleeding
blue
heart; you reached the
porch where you underlined
your first steps and her last;
the bedroom a serenade
between the sheets some-
times a lie tucked away
underneath;
there are fractured stories
in the woodwork finally
seeping out.
You are making the
ceiling cry in the eulogic living room; the kitchen
is a mess of lonely dinners.
You left the library for the last.
This was where you began a
passion never ending
fantasy; open up
the curtains.
The world will one day
listen to the way
a little scribble went
to a house
and came back
a masterpiece.

you will
certainly be
the ultimate,
paining death
of me.

"Daddy! Daddy listen to me count!"

One. I am the one. Your youngest descendant. I had no claim to your throne. I didn't want your crown.
Two. You had two other women besides my mother. Your beloved Queen, her closest lady in waiting, and my Mother, a peasant barely of age.
Three. In case you ever wonder a single mother has to work 3 jobs to afford an apartment, that smells like cigarettes and depression, and a diet of Ramen Noodles and freezer meals.
Four. "Mommy cries alot. I can't seem to figure out why. She told me I'm gonna be a big sister. I hope it's a boy."
Five. "Mommy never leaves my bed side at the hospital. We lost our house because Mommy had to quit her jobs. I don't like it here though. They poke me with needles and I'm losing my hair."
Five. "Mommy tells me it's okay that I can let go."
Five. "Grandma said an angel came in the night to make me better.
Five. I got called a boy in the bathroom today.

Five. I forget how to count when I'm emotional.

Five. I don't want to be bald.
Five... I mean...
Six. Your peasant found comfort in the arms of your best friend. His names Jim. He introduces her to Mary Jane, Molly and Aunt Hazel. When they're with her she forgets her two baby girls exist.
Seven. After 7 foster homes we ended up back with Mommy. She's more tired looking but they say she's clean. She still smells like our first apartment.
Eight. My innocent voice would carry the same heart breaking question to my worn out Mother's ears. "Why don't I have a Daddy like every body else."
Eight. The first time I was called a *******.
Eight. At 8 the bullying began.
Eight. Maybe I'd be better of dead.
Eight. He wasn't suppose to do that.
Eight. Mommy said it's wrong for a man to touch me like that.
Eight. Daddy why didn't you save me. You were suppose to protect me from all this.

Eight. Because you loved the feeling of the bottle pressed firm to your lips and the scorching of your throat, burning away any truth that could crawl it's way out your mouth more the 8 children you claimed and your ***** little secret.

Nine. I've seen you 9 times in my life. And each time you look worse. No teeth. Little hair. You've had 9 strokes in just a few short years.They say you spent to much time with Jack, Jim, and Jose. They don't know how you're alive.
Ten. I used to think you were a king. I used to tell myself you were busy running a country, fighting a war, doing anything noble. Instead of just leaving me.

10. I'm an adult now.
9. They say you accept the love you think you deserve.
8. Maybe that's why I fall for the jerks.
7. There's a boy. He likes your friends too.
6. I don't think I'm very happy anymore.
5. Sometimes I like to hang with Uncle Jim and Uncle Jack.
4. I can never have just one.
3. Each time it get's harder to say no to Mommy's girl friends.
2. I'm the daughter if two addicts.
1. "See Daddy I told you I could. I can count from 1 up to 10 and back down 1 again!"
"Sweetheart, that's a teddy bear not your.. your.. your..."
"I know Mommy I'm just pretending."

between the two
of us i believe
it was me who
was in the wrong.
you would shout,
and shout, and shout,
but all i would do
is listen to
your shouting
with a numbness
that scares me.
i don't if you love
me because i know
deep down you
always loved  
him more and that
was always okay,
until it wasn't.

"why are you looking at me like that?"

"like what?"

"like you're going to fall in love with me."

"maybe i am."

"no, don't."

"why not?"

"because girls like me fall in love with boys like you, until there isn't any love left to share, and then boys like you leave girls like me."

"isn't that the best part? falling in love again, with a different person? experiencing new things?"

"well, maybe i don't want new things. maybe i want the same thing over, and over again, but it feels new because every time we look at each other its like we meet for the first time."

"i don't know if you'll find that."

"i'm sure as hell i will."