You are my superhero
even when I was just a child,
you always protect me,
you always wipe my tears away
whenever I cry,
and whisper:
"It's okay darling, I'm here,
no one's gonna hurt you now."

You'd fly me to skies
if everybody chose to pull me down,
you'd lend me peace of mind
when I am in troubles
you guide me in times
I was reading between the lines;
you let me see the world
and taught me how to walk
every distance I should travel,
the roads may seem so difficult,
I'm not afraid anymore
for you gave me the courage.

You to me are everything
and I admit the fact
that I'd be lost
without your presence,
I'm sorry if I may hurt you
through my actions;
but one thing for sure
is that I love you so much,
and don't you worry
if you're getting old
for to me you're still
the most beautiful woman,
I have ever known.

I just wanted to lay in bed awake today.
And watch the light and space and angles.
How they fill and flesh each other,
each really just composed of the other two.

But I couldn’t.
I had to get up and run around a field
and sit in class after class
and listen to the tiny problems that fell into other people’s laps.

All I wanted to do was see the light and space and angles,
because everything else ached to have in my head:
about a girl getting pregnant at thirteen
about a mental breakdown
about a crumbled piece of world.

It was so much easier to wall in and hole up
because it hurt to deal with all those almost-hells.

I almost couldn’t.

I almost lost it.

I stood in the sun
and thought of you
and of my junebug heart.
It clings on, unshakable,
even after it’s death.

And you like that about me,
my junebug heart that is.
You think you have one too.
I know that you don’t.
Yours is fleeting.

For the same reasons that I stay hungry
for dinner and tired for bed, I keep my
heart a little lonely for poetry; that way,
I can imagine your weathered hands against
my pale thighs as clinging starfish – my
fingernails, bleached cockleshells washed up
on the barely evening beach of your back.

If an easy rain
would make the rocks slippery,
he would hold my hand.