Our fingertips touch and the world
Comes to a standstill-

Still as all of nature at dusk,
Silent as the moonlight on a starless night,
Heavy as the gurgling clouds just before it rains,
Blinding as the sun in all its glory and light

Our fingers begin a rhythmic dance,
As if playing the piano, rendering a favorite song,
Knowing the pace, the moves by heart,
Not faltering once, not going wrong,

Then twined together, we blissfully lay,
Content, peaceful, complete.
The moment of oneness cupped between our hands
preserved for all of eternity.

I pull my damp,
faded jean's jacket
out of the machine.
Something clatters.
Oh good, a dime.
No. A cherry seed.

Now you're going to tell me
that cherry have pits, right?
But "pit" is such a dismal little word.
And this shiny clean trophy sports
a history of petty thievery,
committed in the local grocery store.

A big yellow cherry with a pink blush.
Just one, chewed boldly. Its hard center
hidden in my pocket.

Give him everything you are.
Strip yourself to bare skin with chills on your spine.
Wishbones and collar bones,
your ribs protruding through your shirt.
He doesn't like fat girls.
So love begins on your knees in a bathroom stall
10 minutes after lunch.
Stomach acid burns your esophagus.
"I wonder if his **** going down will hurt as bad as ***** coming up?"
Be skinny.
Be everything he dreams.
Quiet, soft, subtle, pretty and confused.
Be this, that, and everything in between.
Be willing.
Be recyclable.
Be trash.
Broken glass in your retinas,
don't look him in the eye.
Let him have every part of you,
but hold back the feelings.
Be emotionless.
Be empty.
Now hope to god its enough for him to stay.
Ignore every part of you screaming
"he doesn't love you".
Unbutton your pants, pull off your *******
and reply,
"But I can make him."

6 months ago I ******* lost my mind
alone on my bathroom floor,
covered in blood.
Today I would be 9 months pregnant
and the man I made that baby with
is just as gone as my sanity.
Did everyone ******* forget?
Why do we avoid that topic?
Why can’t anyone look me in the ******* eyes anymore?
Why didn’t I ever hear “I’m sorry for your loss”?
Why THE **** didn’t i get condolences?
Because nobody gives a **** when you lose a wanted pregnancy,
that's why.
No one gives a **** when your alone on the bathroom floor covered in blood and in so much pain you *****.
It went from "congratulations, I'm so excited for you!"
to "Well, at least you lost it before it was, like, human??"
Would people still say that if I had had an abortion?
No, I would be called a monster.
But since I wanted to keep the baby,
I'm just being to emotional over the loss of something that
"was barely even there"
How ****** up is that?

Well that pool of blood was a part of me,
and just as human as my mind makes it to be.

I cannot help but lament at
The futility of being a word-weaver,
As I try and search for the
Perfect topic that could steer
My blundering, fumbling conversation
With you to something more than ordinary
Alas, hours pass and I fail miserably, so,
Dejected, I lucidly write about it on Hello Poetry.

I was asked the question
“who do I read”
well, there's nobody special
that's not what I need

am I here to seek pointers
no, not at all
the way that I write
it's not been my call

I simply write down
the words that I'm given
then share them with others
you know, the folks who be livin'

so correct if you must
that's if it makes you feel better
punctuation and spelling
right down to the letter

but I won't be changin'
anytime soon
so I hope you don't mind
I'll keep singin' my tune

Never to land, never to fly.
Recovery is the only choice.

Orpheus with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
  Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
  There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
  Hung their heads and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
  Killing care and grief of heart
  Fall asleep, or hearing, die.