there was a girl who had a pink ribbon
she never got rid of it
even when her friends left her
even when her dad ran away
even when her aunt died
she would never get rid of it
no matter what

there was a girl who had a pink ribbon
she never let go of it
even when she got sick
even when the doctors tried to take it
even when her mother was crying
she will never let go of it
no matter what

there was a girl who had a pink ribbon
and it fell from her grasp
right as she stopped breathing
right as the loud alarm when off
right when the all the doctors rushed in
and as it fell to the ground
her mother picked it up...

there was a girl who had a pink ribbon
she gave it to her mother
her mother cried over it
her mother yelled at it
her mother hung herself with it
and as she fell she saw her daughter
dressed in white
holding the pink ribbon

cleaning up the mess of documents
on my hard drive
I find one titled
"secret message"
double-click
it reads
"i love you."


wish they'd signed it

He doesn't last long
like the flowers in my garden
that I try to grow every year.

He doesn't stay long
just washes down the storm drain
with the worms in the rain.

He is agonizing,
can't walk away fast enough
like the stormy clouds that interupt my day.

Very little memories,
and ones kept aren't pleasant.
And only recalled occasionally when staring out the window of a ****** day.

He,
They are Spring.
My least favorite.

His skin
is burnt and broken out
like cracked pavement trampled by children that run and shout.

His eyes
are wild and constantly changing
from blue, to grey, to green,
unpredictable like the teenage flings that are lovely and mean.

His smile
is bright and charming
like a sunny day that you just can't stop enjoying.

His hair
is brown and opaque
like the dirt that's under our feet.

He is summer.
When all the best times happen.

His skin
is dry and faded
like the bark of naked trees gathered.

His eyes
are dark, stormy, grey,
like the sky of a snowy day.

His muscles
are lean and strong
like the harsh winds that blow cold and long.

His lips
chapped and pale
like foot steps in the snow that go out to get the mail.

His personality
is bitter and unmerciful
like the emptiness of the lull.

He is Winter.
Long and lingering.
His favorite.

His skin
is light and glows,
beautiful like snow.

His eyes
The color of a sunny afternoon sky
with pure clouds strayed off in another land.

His freckles
scatter across his cheeks
like migrating geese.

His lips
speak of beautiful breezes
and naked trees.

His hair
is warm and smooth
and curls in the wind of his mood.

He is Autumn,
late in the season,
my favorite.

In the darkness
I find my way to a chair,
worn cushion,
and splintering.
The uncovered nails dig into the back of my calf.

Theres a click and a bright light that shines on a desk.
I squint.

There is a man sitting in front of me.
Bloated,
wrinkled,
and silver haired.
His swollen sausage fingers with yellowed chipped nails
are neatly knitted together on the table beside his coffee.
His teeth are yellow too.
Jagged and crooked beneath his cracking lips
and sunken deep into his skull,
just as his eyes are
like a bear in a cave,
deep brown,
warm,
but fierce and strong
staring at me.

I shift uncomfortably in the chair
as he sips his coffee from a styrofoam cup.
I notice it may too bitter for his taste.
He scrunches his nose,
which wrinkles his forehead,
his eyebrows tangle in the middle.

Time passes by. I adjust to the lighting and find a somewhat comfy spot in the chair.
Then I become uncomfortable in ways that can't be settled.

His mouth opened,
white tongue rolls out
a stale breath flows out
with his thick heavy gargled words.
I nearly choked
for the small enclosed room had little ventilation.

He questioned me
of who I was,
what I've done,
what will I do.
His words surrounded me,
stared down on my small little body.
I tried to hide behind my long black hair
but I know my green eyes glowed through the gaps.
I could not hide
who I was,
what I've been through,
my unpredictableness.
It reeked through my pores
and danced with mischief in my eyes.
My tears streamed
and his words did not pause.
He wouldn't stop until I responded.
And eventually I muttered out,
*"I will never stop."