I didn’t realize the mantle I’d taken on
as I first tapped my pencil idly against blank white
I strained to put ink on paper
500 poems ago
Now I glibly glide words out
In a lyrical dance to make my impressions last forever

You streaked me with your shining fingers,
And planted love inside my heart,
Your beauty in me softly lingers,
For fine music has become a part,
Of every living cell.

A scar runs down,
Across from end to end,
And no one knows how deep the wound is.
A love so far away,
That knowledge turns to ashes.
Affection might bloom once more,
In a heart I said was cold.
In a corner it cries for now,
And longs for warm arms,
Like she’s heard of Old.  
Unnecessary! hoarse the shouts,
That seem to cramp my heavy mind,
And promises I threw away come creeping back to haunt me.
I’ve sworn I didn’t need you,
And half-bitterly read the words that told me so.
Where are you when I need you?
Have you forgotten me so soon?
A scar runs down,
And could deepen soon enough.

A scar fading
It’s really like an old scar
No at all a threat,
Which tingles on occasion,
When I’m cold or sick or wet,
It causes no real pain,
It’s loss is not enduring,
But like an old scar,
The memory still clinging,
which only time diminishes,
And two events finishes.

Delusions of grandeur
have made many a ship sink
But a boat that never leaves the harbor
has no story to tell

You are
a calm blur
It’s so strange for me
Not to rush to see
But let you slowly unfurl

I’d like to meet you on the road
one day
And my heart would fall
down the slippery *****
and find hope
and a stream
at the bottom

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 It’s outdated.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?

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

deep and warm
soft and strong
calm and exhilarating
wide open spaces
cozy embraces
holding and swaying
laughing and **praying

I cannot see what lies in front
the hill I march upon is steep
(though not the sheer before)
All I know:
I've moved ahead a square
upon the Great Lord's board
A new rope is on my shoulder
Another stripe of gold

Thank you
for never saying
“I don’t love you anymore”
or
“I never loved you”
I sincerely smile
an odd little smile
a sudden gratitude

I am weary of the worry,
Weary of the pain,
Weary of the dreary teary,
Weary of the shame,
Tired of all the sickness in me,
And tired of my name.
But deep inside my heart of hearts,
There lives a drop of sun,
And when life’s at its darkest,
To here my hurt can run,
For when all about is dimming,
It shines brighter, ‘til I’m brimming.
And Jesus’s hand that’s holding mine,
Soothes my heart, now back in line,
I’m grateful for this time I have,
To lie and wait for you,
To hold on tight, to cry and sigh,
And know that you are true.

My mind oscillates
From mist to Scarlet scores
From gray-blue hazy hints of music
To quite strong Metal chords
I feel the fingers brush my lips
And new tattoos come blooming out
Paisley curves upon my arms
Words at a Waltz
Paint and sketches tumble in
Stark lines burn down
Black white blue red

The tears as you leave are a blessing
the feeling of sadness a gift
For many don't have ones to love them
or pleasant sweet sorrow so swift

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

In the Fall
Your face arrived
And in the color
your cheeks
will round like apples in the trees
which gently fall their leaves

Is it the moon
Pulling out my unfed longings
Is it winter stars
Setting aflame the darts
I threw
Dry
Vain wisps of smoke
Drift up
to choke
and give
no warmth

I tattooed upon my wrist
snowflakes
one to remember
myself
and one to remember
you
that you're beautiful
*two

I hid something in my world,
And hoped that you would find it,
I slipped your firm description in a line of my own thoughts,
And knew I hoped in vain,
That you would come across them,
For what could cause you to stop and stare?
As close as you stand, you stand too far away,
To spare a glance deep enough to see me,
Though myself I do not hide.

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

I don't know when it began
Birth, likely
or maybe womanhood,
when that certain sort of eye to eye
that admiring connection
always fired failed affection
failed
for I have only two kinds
of deep friendship direction
and your slipping out of either one

At this point I’ve given up on letting most people most of the time know when I’m in physical pain
I guess it’s kind of maturity
It doesn’t matter that I hurt more than most people most of the time
My great pains are just as guaranteed to leave as their little ones
We’ll both still be walking tomorrow

I cut my thumb
just a little
with a steak knife while I chopped cauliflower
All week I’ve watched my skin knit itself back together
On the outside of my hand is another tear
it’s older and shallow but healing slowly
I always bump it
washing hands
applying lotion
the scab ripped off yesterday
the gouged skin underneath threatens to scar
these two accidental wounds remind me of my metaphorical heart
and I wonder how I could learn to stop bumping the hurts and picking at scabs
and just let it heal

My compass pointing towards my dreams
is broken
my polished brass imaginator
is lost
My gyroscopes spin lazily
now useless
My log contains but disconnected letters
the few remaining sentences
contradict
its stacked and leatherbound brothers
I chained my silver dream kaleidoscope
away
above my head
it's diamond sapphires and amethyst pearls
are out of reach
I said I would sail this way
and I have
forgotten
how to turn this dirigible
*around

walls go up like tinted glass
Each blurs the view more than the last
the tinge of blue turns Midnight
as each panel raises up
Alas!
we’re separated
as I spread the molten soda-lime
upon the molten tin to add another
to my rows of perfect pain
I’m powerless
to end this game
I’m powerless
to stop my hiding
Rescue me with Your sledgehammer of Grace
protect me from the shards
of a silent broken heart

give me a gold dress
to match my soul

Your face staring into mine
and I feel
what
afraid
is the only thing it feels like
but it’s a gentle fear
And suddenly I realized
that power is what draws me most
to you

every word
is bitter now
each slowly
turns to smoke
some fires take
too long to die
these ashes choke my throat

But bright hope begins to clear the flu
as brooms do sweep the hearth
stronger flames burst bright anew
And joy dances!
Sing my heart!

Beauty,
Hastily grasp it and it flies,
Force it and it dies,
Wait, work and it grows,
Patience, lovely knows,
That lovely life is best,
And beauty a curious thing,
That flits on feather wings,
Or drums dark and sweet in the hearts of men,
Not satisfying on our tongue,
But a harbinger of what must come.

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

The weak part of my heart,
Calls your name to me on the shore,
Now high and dry, where I don’t love you anymore
I’ll never love you like I used to,
No, I’ll never love you like I used to.
The weak will take offense,
But my mind is made up,
And my stomach no longer tense,
I’ll never love you like I used to,
No, I’ll never love you like I used to,
I’ll never dance in the waves like that again,
Or be pulled under in a storm,
I’ll play in the sand, or dance in deep for my Lord,
Because I’ll never love you like I used to,
No, I won’t love you again.
I’ll never love you like I used to,
I’ll never love you like I used to

There are no words
to describe what You were
what there wasn't
what You had
For words were Your first creation
sounds into a void at once brought into being
thoughts of neverending force
shot forth
in the absence of gravity
never to be taken back

Do you have anything for the poor?
My pants are ***** and tore,
Give me money to buy some more

I let the enemy approach me
and cut my tender skin.
I let the blood run trembling
this fight I could not win.
My voice was gone from silent screams
bruised hands from angry fists

I found I wasn't half so *****
when my friends led me to your side
I had believed me rotten, horrid
Stained
But it was him who'd lied

In the worship of your presence
I felt your gentle hands
press down upon the open wounds
bind them in strips of white

streaks of roman purple
finish the painting
the symbol of life
the constant pain of humanity
the fight for existence
the acceptance of ourselves
cuts on a hand
show that the person isn't hiding
not completely
not pretending to be invincible

If I painted all my feelings
like I've wished to
The amount of canvas dripping blood
from my exploding heart would be staggering

My hands are red against my ribs
the skin is marked with purple paint
and I rainbow in the gaps

though I lie motionless
my imagined lips contort
across the destinies of other's
craving shallow touch

each partner a slightly different waist
a different flavor

can these fantastic kisses
**** stars out from my soulfire?
or do they keep alive
my darling sweet desire?

My secret silent practice
my dancing under moon
may turn out to be witches work
and come to haunt me soon

I don't degrade by *******
I do not stoop to ****
But are these moments hights indeed?
Or bleeding cosmos,
love forlorn?

Every time you smile
another flower blooms inside me
You are like water
pouring on a prepared field
Rising up the little plants which were so carefully seeded

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