Desperately clinging to innocence long past
in hopes that you can hold to some inkling of it,
no matter how far gone.
You can move forward
with that same youthful exuberance
in a body well older;
pray to your god that it lives on inside you
as it tries,
with an unfailing knack,
to leave you in this world's dust.,
Maturity dragging you- kicking and screaming- all the way.

Sometimes on days like these
I watch rain wash my skin like whispers
and it reminds me of you.
I remember when you taught me that the drops
splattering on your windshield like screams
(making it impossible to see
the impatient bloodlights in front of us)
were beautiful.
I couldn't hear you at first
from the ear-beating whip of your wipers.
Then with just one smooth, ink-like movement,
you silenced them...
and I sat in
serenity,
amazement,
as your eyes lit the falling tears on the
slowly diminishing glass-metal frame
that swathed us.
I forget when it disappeared...
but before I had the chance
to fashion your visage in my brain,
I was sitting naked in the rain,
letting you wash my skin
while you murmured sunlight in my ear.

Innocence fades quickly
in the light of a newly developed maturity.
The world is no longer magnificent,
in fact, it's cruel.
Suddenly, protection that you took
so obliviously for granted,
leaves you in a cold reality,
that you shall be protected no longer.
As they watch the childlike curiosity leave your eyes,
replaced by the daily drone of
Bills,
Jobs,
Heartbreak...
Your parents wonder if they made the mistake
That they swore they never would.

A deal with the devil.
What have I walked into?
I gave myself,
Gladly,
To be part of something horrid.
A silver tongue, an angry rod.
A wise man, a dear friend,
Once spoke of a ‘little death’.
The death of a personality,
Your personality.
Mine.
Have I lost myself?
Would I know if I had?
Could I escape this hellish ride?
Pull myself up by my boot straps
Give myself a good smack and run,
Recklessly yet with intention,
Into the arms of a man who may not even know me?
Will he know if I am the woman that he fell in love with?
I can only hope that
After all of this
He will still want me.
What have I become?

Freedom is a mask.
We don both it and our colors,
oblivious to the snickers of our peers.
Like religion, patriotism separates us further.
How can one believe in a system
so corrupt?
Powerless yet powerful, we must stand,
lest another civil war commence.
Together, hand in hand, we
will create a new life for us all.

Thoughts of you crackle in my mind,
a roaring fireplace of emotions.
affection,
peace,
care,
love.
Those things which border on obsession
weigh heavily on me
in the best way.
I am pleasantly drunk on dreams.
of what we'll do,
of who we'll be,
of starting anew,
of what you are to me.
You are a thing of beauty.
Those who could gaze upon you and walk away
know nothing of love.
How could they?

Sometimes I feel as if I'm
drinking the blood of the innocent.
Taking their pleasures,
vicariously,
and hoarding them within my blackened heart.
Do I steal my happiness from those who truly deserve it?