And what you’re telling me
would mean so much
if I cared
even a little

I saw you
for the first time today
my heart rejoiced and said
“You are so full of love, please shower some on me.”

Today I looked upon my world
and saw
That I cannot know anything about myself
until I have shared it

I fear quiet, slinking apathy
that must be addressed in cold agony
I fear glaring flaws
cut out with flashing scissors
I fear lies will slip in
like pills into a drink
Poisons thrown back into a bright throat
From faces of any shape or color
The sharper the chin
The deeper the tears
But most of all I fear I’ll close myself in self-defense
and others in that process

Hearts aren’t heart shaped
So I carved a hole in my heart shaped like you

Power is the trait
I most desire in a mate
To wield an affectation
exude an attitude of skill
To spike imagination
and a joyous sense of will
But I ponder this and pause . . .
For once again I’ve found myself desiring
what I long to carve across my chest
Seeking power in my hands

in our desire to accept the raw and deepness of a soul
we often forget our little, daily actions pave the path to those treasures

and I’m done pretending
that physical pain is any less devastating
than emotional pain
Honestly, they’re the same

I’m learning I’m an ocean
full of uncharted depths
made just for me to explore
I’m far more interesting than a few little coves
I’ve got trenches
and reefs
starfish
and beasts
And I’ll never reach the end of it

when cultivating a will to live is too difficult
I settle for drowning out the desire to die

Like dark, vaporous remnants
like a bad dream
vague
it slips into uncomfortable
amorphous uncertainty
more pleasing than the bold streaks of red paint
underneath metallic rods
that used to define the subject
as Pain and Stupidity
with a slash of Slavery
Instead
the last of its whispers
speak of Strength
and self-forged Freedom

I win
I’m free
I’m proud of me

You had never learned to love
I had never learned to rebel
The rebel dating the lover
You couldn’t understand my anger
I couldn’t understand your lack of compassion
You’d been your own person all your life
I was just becoming my owner
I had nurtured and been a model of good
You hardly knew your mother
You grew tired of my struggle with my parents
I grew tired of your lack of apologies
In the end,
the rebel knew himself better
and left
Behind a crushed me
who didn’t know how to let go of love
Until I became a rebel too

And in this red moment
nothing would please me more than being called a firecracker

Today I still feel like I’m suffocating
And my anger starts to boil faster . . .
It will be 12 years in January . . .
13 years old when I fell foul prey
to an illness many say
is caused by saying “Yes” too much
and too little else
These stupid 1% diseases
caused by lack of fermented foods and adequate self-actualization
I don’t identify with this illness
I don’t think I’d be noticeably different without it
But I see as through a glass darkly
And I believe all this pain will be beautiful someday
not dampened by these complaints

Last night I dreamed you were a koi kissing sweetheart
I find it amusing how my mind takes the people I admire most
those who are intriguing and inspirational
and spins them joyful fantasies in my sleep
As if I didn’t do it enough while I was awake

So I recently joined eHarmony and you know what my biggest fear is? Going on a date and discovering the guy is sexist, or worse, only finding out after several dates. I’m fully confident I can spot most major issues before deciding to meet up, and any I’ve missed prior I’m sure I can spot in person, but I don’t have a clue how well my chauvinist radar works. I never really thought about this before this week. Maybe it’s because of where I’ve arrived in my journey of self-discovery and self worth. I ******* hate the term “Lady”. It’s outdated. I don’t have a use for “Gentleman” either. You’re a good person or you’re not. I guess this actually stems majorly from my pain in my last relationship, with a controlling dude who was a bit sexist. What am I afraid of? Being made to feel small. Having my feelings invalidated. Not being encouraged to express my joy, my pain, my sorrow, my anger, every part of me I want to express. That’s what I hate about the idea of “a lady”, it so often portrays a woman who hides her feelings. **** that! Change the heart, but never cover it up.
I want to be allowed to bloom, I want to watched in expectation and awe.
I want you to be waiting for my next move yet somehow always content.
I want you as a bursting star meets bursting star in emotional brilliance. I want you to be open and ready for all I am to fall into all you are.
I want a glorious canvas covering itself in shocking color to find me as their inspiration.
And that’s why it’s so hard for me to write a list of what I want in a man. I don’t know what to say, I want to be part of a ******* fireworks display?

I’ve lost count . . .
no, I never cared to count
I never do
I don’t know how many . . .
Perfect fantasies I’ve created
now forgotten
A dozen alabaster jars I’ve painted
the roses faded
A hundred jeweled webs I’ve spun
the prism raindrops dried away
leaving dusty silken remnants
All vague reminder of the hopes
The joys I’d wished I had
All dashed
And I feel kind of like a spider that’s never left her corner

I long to be loved
So I love
I long to be seen
So I see
I long to be believed
So I believe
I long to be prayed for
So I pray for
I long to be validated
So I validate
I long to be the inspiration for poems
So I allow people to inspire me to poetry
I long to be accepted
So I accept
I long to be understood
So I work to understand
I long to be appreciated
So I easily appreciate
I long to be pleasing
So I am easily pleased
I long to be art
So I make art

I don’t want you to feel tainted
I don’t like that some people see you as *****
***** hippie
But maybe that’s because we’re a lot a like
Some people think I’m *****
***** hippie
I don’t shave my legs out of compassion for the earth
to reduce plastic waste by not buying razors
to love my legs just like God made them
I want you to love you like God made you
And I know you work hard to ignore how you’re painted
to love yourself radically
What people call you
***** hippie
I know the only man who calls you that loves you like crazy
But I’m afraid you know other people think it
Even though you have cleaner hair than me
Tattoos last forever
No they don’t
Nothing lasts forever
Except for love
***** hippie

little whisper
wisdom soul
I’ll listen to your quiet voice

So I’ve been reading poems
and crying gently
My soul sore from stretching more than usual today
this week
it’s been quite nice, but
apparently my soul could limber up

at just the thought
that you might possibly be there
a figure to my left
my closed eyes
not daring to make sure
my heart
silently trying to convince myself that you couldn’t possibly have come this morning
Light filled me
Like oil pouring into an almost empty lamp
Like a warm, anointing
spreading down from the crown of my head
my tired legs could stand again
my tired voice sang strong again
my weary heart felt glad again
The figure to my left
was just a boring, disappointing stranger
and I wondered at how quickly I had changed
all it took was a tiny thread of hope
to fill me with life
this little selfish desire for your presence
Couldn’t I find a better way to bring this light unto myself?

sometimes I indulge myself
in wondering
and I muse upon what
if anything
could make me love you again
There really isn’t much
the page is relievingly white
except for a line
saying your love must long be
Quiet and Unrequite
before ever again embedding in my heart
and life

drop
       drop
              drop
little spots of ink on paper
as I ponder what to write
drop
       drop
              drop
little thoughts do linger
emotions caught in webs so tight
drop
       drop
              drop
I try to untangle a single line
searching through exhausted mind
drop
       drop
              drop
my soul still raw from life’s sharp edge
the wounds and scars form a blurry wedge
drop
       drop
              drop
between what I got and what I wanted
what I lost and what I needed
drop
      drop
             drop
the messy page before my eyes
not unlike these spastic lies
drop
       drop
              drop
I ask again
when shall I truly find rest?

I used to want a man to lead me
But now I know I won’t allow
my feet to be forced to go
a way I wasn’t walking
I used to want a man to teach me
But now I know I won’t allow
my mind to be forced into
a different, “better” mold
I used to want a man to keep me
But now I know I won’t allow
someone to protect me
when I know how to protect myself
I used to think a man would define me
But now I know I won’t allow
myself to be anything but me

It’s late
and it’s been so long
since such pressure built up inside my art room
my heart’s now exploding
again
like so many glorious paint tubes

the only thing soft about you
was your kissing lips
Your words were much too hard
Your eyes were much too dark
to see me
Strong in all my softness
I’m a woman
and I deserve my biggest fan

Maybe
deep in your godman
waiting in the core of your spirit being
There’s an apology for me
Your soul had yet to meet it’s pressure point
Your best features still buried
in the unconscious dirt that clings
to every human
It’s not something I want presented now
Not a crystal I want to hold
so I trust it’s sitting in your heart
As God turns all your mistakes to gold

I guess it was consistency
that made your shallowest love
warm my heart the most
it’s nice to have a constant
a backdrop of blue sky
always there
somewhere behind the clouds
It helped me see the beauty of the deeper loves
God loves me like the stars
enduring far longer than your transient
azul atmosphere
most visible in dark
the little diamonds come popping out
twinkling
singing
Always the same beautiful songs
and my heart learns to listen
and sings along

it’s breaks upon my consciousness
another cycle
reaches low
disappointed I hear the sirens begin again
but it’s slower this time
and I soon stop trying to remember brushing up against the alarm
stepping across invisible boundaries
disrupting security lasers
it was never my fault
just as it isn’t now

A poem is a breath
that two people who have never met
can share

What I love to tell everyone is
how Jaye loves me
and that's because I find it
hard to believe that he loves me
that anyone would love
me
is a surprise
every time
but I don't know why anyone wouldn't love  you
or wouldn't love me
and I don't see you different than me
but at the same time
I do
And I know it's that fallen flesh in me
that dissonance
that screams a lack of harmony
that says I'm too ugly
to make it up to greatness
I'm not worthy to reach out and take this
I'm tempted to think it's all fakeness
and though he never speaks a lie
the feeling behind it changes
and I tie my mind up
and my heart runs down the hall
but I've locked the door
I've locked them all
because You tell me it's real
It doesn't matter what I feel
this moments not a day
And I will stay
Until I feel okay
Sometimes it takes a week for me to really know
oh, many words it's takes for him to show
(this ain't no present with a shiny bow)

So I'm the Queen of Hiding
I'll learn to toss that title in the dust

At Manhunt I excelled, so long underbrush
Daily I did practice, as I played against myself
so well did I place the shadows all around me
I didn't know the game commenced
nor indeed that I was it

But I'll come out of hiding now

You are sunlight
glinting through prisms of raindrops
You fiercely shine a rainforest of colors
Reflecting the universe’s naked heart
A thrill and a marching drumbeat
a quiet window seat next to a bookcase
full of undiscovered prose
and also my beloved classics
So earthy and human
But rising up
Your aura shoots a golden beam
to infinite heavens
You speak and my heart responds

when I met you
You opened up my world
Now I’m left missing your smile
like a child who’s lost their first tooth
They’ve never known better before
like a child I wait
for the permanent tooth to grow into place
the little wound reminds me that I lost you

Until you stand in front of me
and strip away your pride
crying real tears
for the way I died inside

It’s only demons in my ears
who love to speak your name
your face never haunts my sleep
the pain is only lies
coming from the deep

Stop trying to box power
Power
Joy
Freedom
Love
All good things
start to lose themselves
when you put them into boxes
They become a little less
intended to overflow
dripping down to gild the lives around you in ways you can’t control
You can’t be filled without overflowing
You can’t be filled with controlling
pressure builds as you try to grow under a lid
So be prepared to explode
when you find freedom
don’t be afraid to watch your soul
flung about
Overflow

Love is a storm
but my sails are always full
my soul’s canvas fibers locked in place
to move me at the slightest breath of emotion
I’ve docked myself in harbor
to preserve my life
Though too all eyes
I am a worthy, ready vessel
asking for a breeze
waiting for the morning tide

Words are food to me
I open up to tender sentences
careful compliments like water in my mouth
the flowers of my soul burst forth
in shocking color
when someone I trust tells me they love me
And oh, how fast they die of poisoning
upon verbal attack
my deepest wounds
my brightest moments
were each encountered through words

You cannot hunger and thirst for righteousness
until you have hungered and thirsted
To gain in spirit is to lose in flesh
No one learns a deep lesson from a place of comfort

I took 3 years of piano
so apathetic
But feeling guilty
for wasting training in the human apex
wrote down musician on my list of desired traits
in a mate
probably Because I couldn’t measure
Up
Funny . . .
a good half of that list
consisted of proficiencies in where I felt I failed
confused
not understanding how complete I was
not understanding that mastering a musical instrument is not a virtue

It doesn’t stop cutting you
but you learn to trust in healing
It’s written in your scars
Everything heals
And your fears fade

Is it a stereotype
or a more common truth
that a woman finds her strength
when she walks away from a man?

the lion in me laughs
waiting for its roar

Oh! the glorious sails rising on the breeze
I’ve come this time to watch
and not be seen

It’s raining again
So I sit here with my wings open
letting water run through every feather
spring cleaning for my dreams