the wind is blowing
but the world is still
when you laugh
the hurt in my heart
grows flowers in the cracks
I can feel you try to mend me
as I re-write the memories
but it is your sweet nectar
that keeps sticking to me
as I endlessly try to
wash myself clean
of all I was tied to

and I look back at those places
that once felt like safe spaces
and I feel weak in the knees
for not being brave enough
to open my eyes and see
that you never were
what you promised you'd be
I had made up this story
told it so well

and dressed it up in me

and now that you're gone
I spend my nights
un.dressing the ache
of the never-ending
echo of the child
I never got to name

yet for you,
it's nothing more than a story
an "almost, what-if, thank-goodness"
kinda thing

and that is why
it is always the mother
who carries the weight
who has to bleed

a power I have embodied the best
ever since you decided to leave

We reach a point where
all our night and daydreams
revolve around the things
we did rather than the things
we want to do, featuring the
person we used to be.

A remembered scrapbook of
Life already lived rather than
anticipated. An exercise in
Self-Absolution perhaps
sometimes dreamed in color.

on a windy fall day

rain can be beautiful

"Liston caught Patterson with the right
and Floyd kept trying to get up
trying to get up
off the canvas
and that's something

beautiful
terrible
free

if you have,
HEART

and i'm shooting to turn in
one
last
great performance
knocked to the canvas
i'm trying to get up

i'm going to punch a hole through the moon
through nightmares and rust
through days shorten
like streets that have no street signs

through memories of you
in that yellow dress
dancing in the lightening, rain and thunder

it takes Heart
to ask to be forgiven

the radio was playing softly
and the space between your 2 front teeth
and your crooked little smile

and then I was holding you
in my arms
delicate and soft and tender
and i'm stealing quarters from the wishing well

what was the name of that song, anyway?"


"Rain Can Be Beautiful," she says.

miles davis blowing sad
and in the ruins of his room
among the empty beer cans

the room where the floor is tilted
like the fun house floor

he wrote his poems
on the back of over due bills

on paper plates flung out the window
like dying daffodils

on those orphaned buildings
on cookman ave


the click clack
and the sad echo
off his duct taped boots
drifting off empty stores

in the soulless town
he gave a heart

the man
axe in hand
chasing tommy down 5th avenue

too soon the night has found you

too soon you left this earth

Flowers of light
Mirror image of fire planet
All beautiful faces looking at mother sun
Attracting butterflies and bees
in love
To be kissed gently .



Shell ✨🐚