It feels like someone telling you you're beautiful,
like you're floating,
like you fall asleep smiling at the memories,
like when you're cold, and you picture their arms around you, warm,
like you're having conversations in the shower with yourself that you'll never have,
like you're checking the phone hoping they'll text first because you're too afraid,
like you're eating well and exercising well because you want look well for them because, they make you feel well.
like you don't have to lie anymore
like you can grow higher than ever
like you can smile in a photo and not delete it seconds after,
it feels like all of these things together, when you know they do not do the same.
it feels like you're holding your chin up, pretending you can just be friends, pretending your heart didn't decide, that they could make you happy, and whole. It feels like, with every breath, pretending you don't love them.
it feels like it hurts.

I write so many poems
every single day
in such a flurry of emotion
I have to use all my strength
to restrain myself
from posting them all at once
posting them as I feel them
one after another
clogging up your homepage
so you feel as clogged up
as I do
in my heart.
but it's good I don't,
for even though those poems
were produced
in a moment's emotion..
that emotion never truly fades,
and carries on forever.

my darling is like most
and does not understand.
He believes
because our trials are different
that I do not struggle the same.
He does not see
my desperate battle to crack a smile,
only another mood swing.
He does not understand
how hard it is
to throw 18 traumatized years away
and pretend it never happened.
He sees twelve hours sleep
excessive and lazy
because he cannot understand
how one can be so sad
they cannot get out of bed.
He can worry
about clean hands
and crumbs
but the millions of worries
that send me sprawling
to sharp breaths
and tears
are inconceivable.
My darling is always level headed
calm cool and collected
and is unaware of my days.
I spend all day
doing what I can
to make sure he is happy,
I avoid the mirror
for a glimpse
summons waterfalls
I take mood stabilizers
exercise
and eat well
but most days
I walk around the house like a zombie
in despair because he,
like most everyone,
will never understand how hard it is,
the weight on my chest
the constant tears
the black dog
the ball and chain
the panic
the fear
all the little things
I struggle through
everyday,
the daily war I wage with myself
the never ending hell
the bravery
and strength I have
to admit I need help
and speak my troubles
to one I trust,
my hours of hard work
are not spent at a paid job
but trying to love and live and breath
and smile and be healthy
for I've got a long way to go
and it will take a long time, but,
my darling does not see this
and is now
no longer my darling.

short skirt
tight shirt
tall heels
big hair
pouty lips
walking through the streets at night
destination: anywhere that's free
just to challenge
anyone who walks by
to see
if they want
if they want
if they want
if they want
to give me a release

Cafe girl
     writing in your notebook
about needles and knives
pausing the white knuckle
to post an instapic
of that chai latte
with cinnamon sprinkled on top
  too perfect
    for the heartbroken caption
you thought of a week ago
             do you
             do you
             do you wish
you had someone sitting next to you
        reading over your shoulder
head in the crook of your neck
smelling like vanilla
   cafe girl
            I bet you have lots of dreams
so why don't you write those down instead

There's a sad song playing in this cafe
and I'm scrolling through our texts
knowing you mean more to me
than I do to you
   my least favorite episode on repeat, once again,
feeling like I've done an injustice to myself,
                                                           my heart,
giving it away too easily,
giving it up so quickly,
because I'm trying too hard
to fill the emptiness
but the more I pour
the wider the cracks get
but still I pour
hoping to fill it
thinking 'maybe this time it'll be different'
but it never is
       it never is

Indigo darling,
Puff disappeared
so I stopped reading your poems,
I didn't know
Puff turned purple
but now I'm reading
now I'm reeling
Indigo darling
put your gloves on
wrap a scarf around your slender neck-
it's winter now
and the world to you
might seem mighty cold
so keep wrapped up tight
keep warm through the harsh winds
and dreary rain
that matts your envious mane
Indigo darling
look at your hot breath
in the cold air
know that you're alive
and human
and nothing can be more beautiful
Indigo I think of your smile
and soul
and century-old eyes
that glisten like stars
mapping out your past
and hopes and dreams
Indigo darling
you are loved
by many
by all
by I
Indigo darling
don't harm yourself so
don't say unkind words
you don't deserve that,
know that it's winter
clouds are overhead
but the sun lies just underneath
just wait
just wait
eat well
and breath
and adventure
don't you dare weigh yourself
until those clouds break
the holidays are gone
and the sun's warmth
can wrap around your slender neck
and lighten your hair
and blare brilliantly
off your pale hands
reaching to the sky
thinking philosopher's thoughts
Indigo darling
let that warmth touch your heart
because you can say unkind words
and shake your head at the mirror
and stamp your feet at the scale
but these things
won't stop the world from loving you
it won't stop the truth
so Indigo darling
write a happy poem
wander up a mountain
and please
just stay warm
stay warm

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
or to the winter wind
that blows down the valleys
and whips your hair
into a glorious tangle
as you climb forrested peaks
in hopes of catching
the blazing star
just sinking
slowly
gently
purposefully
religiously
beneath the horizon
coating your kingdom
in orange
and pinks
and purples
setting all you see
on fire
as if it burned
with each quick beat of your heart
and blow colder winds
to replenish your lungs
for a strong
and careful journey down
your many times conquered mountain
so that you may come again
and again
and again
to see the sun
and the view
and breath the winds that blow
and fall in love
every
single
time

I can see you
laying in the grass
listening to the waves
sun on your face


                                                   I wish I could be next to you

Kiss every inch of me
show me how it's supposed to be
     tell me you'll be good to me...
down my neck in the dark
careful you don't leave a mark
     I want to keep this between us two...
                  promise you won't think less of me
      I just want to be set free
         care for me     ah
         be careful with me...
and promise you won't think less of me

I'd like to say
I'm an honest
loyal girl
I always keep my promises
unless they're to myself
because I promised myself I would be happy
promised myself I'd take care
get off the ground
stop getting stepped on
do what I could
                       to get the best out of life
and here I am
here I am
breaking those promises with every breath.

the music was saying what I couldn't
                   and all I want
    is for you
                     to be good to me

I play it over in my head
Afraid to forget a second of it
Every word
Every laugh
Every view
The way you touched me
The way you reassured me
The way your honest eyes demanded truth
How you turned me
Molded me
Hands on my face
Down my chest
Squeezing my hourglass
And commanding my hips back and forth
I’ll keep my eyes closed
Hearing your voice on repeat
Listening to this song again
in bed
clinging to every second
you made me feel alive

When that song comes on
and I close my eyes
swaying
mouthing the words
feeling them to the core
it's clear I sing them to you.

When that song comes on
and you can't take your eyes off me
swaying
mouthing the words
feeling them to the core
it's clear you sing them to me.

She sat in the artist's warehouse
listening to the quick drip drops of fresh rain
becoming polluted as they passed through rusted drains
and lightly onto ***-holed puddles filled with crushed cigarettes.
She let her warm breath
spool into the air and fill the silence,
she closed her eyes, smiled,
a private moment to recall
what made her smile,
what made her sit in the artist's warehouse writing poetry
rhymes about how light her heart felt,
how clean and fresh the air she breathed was,
how she couldn't keep herself from smiling
when she thought of him,
how he touched her,
looked at her,
how he breathed into her
an earth shattering exhileration
of posisbility, curiosity, fascination
and unexpected livlihood....
She opened her eyes
and caught her breath,
as she did every time
she thought of him
and how he made her feel.
She uncrossed her legs
threw back her head
and came one step closer
to understanding what it was
she wanted
for her heart.

you ***** me
                        up
                             up
                                 up
you fuel me
             c
                r
            a
               z
            y
              c
                r
            a
 ­              z
            y
you prompt me
           n      u       o     i           n      u       o     i
                e      r       t      c             e      r      t      c
you make me
        s o m e                   t h i n g

              I        I  
   don't     \/     don't      
    want             want    
        to                tobe
           be          be
                 \/

Sasha's greatest hits
*******
shaved clean
young thing
short hair
fake blonde
pouty stare
bullet wand
strip tease
there to please
unblemished-
                       smooth skin
stick ******* thin
tormented by how
I just can't win
measure up
*******
fantasy feline
maybe next time
you'll want me more
than your perfect pornstar *****

Last time our lips touched-
our bodies entwined-
you felt,
to me,
a stranger.

I sit,
you sleep
hours passed,
I have not the heart
to sleep next to you.

was it me
or you
that woke one morning
and changed the game?
I'm beginning to think
it was both
that said
that felt
'there is no passion here'

I
feel no burden
no guilt
for stolen kisses
and dinner dates
you
simply ignoring
barely notice
I still live
inches away
we
are not speaking
or laughing
or jibing
just existing
where the other
also happens to be existing
time
is ticking on
the alarm will ring
and neither of us
will have anything
to say.

Is anybody out there?
          in reality people are so close
                    yet too attached to the internet
                           the internet seems like a great way to connect
                                     but it's really just a void

who is the girl
whose smile
reflects in your ocean eyes?
who is the girl
that prompts
that sly smile?
who is the girl
you haven't mentioned
but gives you
a reason to live?
who is the girl
who makes everything okay?
the girl
you fall asleep with
the girl whose petite frame
cuddles up next to you
whose small smooth hands
hold yours
as you walk in the dark
who is this girl
that has your heart?
I hear
her name
is Envy.

at night
pitch black
king size sheets
her cold, clean white skin
and long apricot hair
lay sprawled against
his hot, smooth dirt skin
and military hair.
she runs her hand
up and down his arm
reflecting on their perfect day.
he hums that tune,
a hand running through her hair
and the other down her back,
she closes her eyes and hugs him tight
as she listens to his heart beat.
du-du-du-du-du-dudududududududu
it will never be in sync with her
thump....thump....thump...
she says
"your heart always beats so fast, even when you sleep,"
"it means I'll die early"
"don't say that"
"just the facts"
she holds him
listening to the doomful du-du-du-du-du-du-du
the heart that's revving up
to burst from his chest-
he wraps his arms around her tight
and falls asleep
she wonders if
he fears death
if he wishes things had been different
she wonders about his younger years
she wonders what goes on in his head
she wonders about all the things he does and says
and wonders
perhaps
if he has given up.

The grass is greener on the other side
the sky is blue
the air is clean
and the sun is shining always
and that's how it is over here
as long as the pictures I post make it seem so,
as long as my statuses are vague and humorous,
as long as I reveal the good and not the bad
no one will know
how hard things really are.

she wakes early to plot the day
makes the bed where he once laid
she works out to stay trim
curls her hair so she's proper and prim
she cleans the living room
the kitchen
the bedroom
the bath
the halls
the windows
the tables
the floor
she washes and folds the laundry
and puts away the dishes with a clatter
overwhelmed with quandary
pretending the latter doesn't matter
only focused on having dinner ready
when he steps through the door steady
and she does it all
yes she does it all
with a frown on her mouth
and a furrow on her brow
yes she's going mad as a hatter
perfect makeup
mixing batter
what's for dinner
new lingerie
makes her look thinner
she's got to please the man
she's got to lick his hand
petrified things will fall apart
if she doesn't play her part
she's losing who she is
afraid to be a Ms.
all day long
she thinks of pleasing him
humming a caged bird's song
for she does this all desperately
desperately desperately
running from the candle *****
her love just doesn't seem enough
doing all she can
to keep this man
pretending she still has an identity
and that she's not just a mechanical thing
that she's more than just
the desperate housewife.

so tell me
what do you think about love?
should it be something you struggle for work hard for
spend hours stressing and sweating
over how to make it work
letting it consume you
with fear
and anxiety,

or should it be effortless?
should it be comfort
and easy
should it excite you to the bone
and fill you with carefree procrastination
and a long
drawn out
well deserved sigh?

her heart beats strongly for him
                 she wants to love him
                         she truly does
                                 she just has to figure out
                                                                              *how

she's been staring at blank pages
tapping her pencil against the desk
shaking her foot
she's been staring at blank pages
lost for inspiration.

she's started to cry
late at night
sometimes in the day
she's got a weight on her chest
she overwhelmed with emotions.

She's been filling up those blank pages
pencil swishing back and forth
paintings
drawings
poems
stories
each tear drop
a new chapter
every sniffle
a stroke of the brush

overjoyed to produce lovely work
dying from the pain
loathing the necessity
that artists
need to be miserable
in some way
or another
to be great

she forgot to write a poem that day,
and the day next
and the day next,
she forgot to write a poem that week,
and the week next
and the week next,
she forgot to write a poem that month,
and soon forgot that she had forgotten to write a poem,
she forgot all about words that rhymed
and titles
and tags
she forgot to write poems,
because she forgot to be sad.

I
  don't
  know
  what
I  
  need
  but
I'm
  looking
  anyways.

Miss Wilde
Miss Wilde
he says with a smile
Miss Wilde
Miss Wilde
  he shakes his silly head

I cook a grand meal
but not without leaving behind a mess
  Classic Miss Wilde
he says
  Classic Indeed!

I'm ***** and clumsy
efficient but messy
I mix up my words
pronounce things funny
I sit on the floor
in funny positions
I'm kind but sarcastic
innocent but *****
knocking things over
tripping over flat surfaces
stealing the blankets
sleeping in strange positions
these things he calls quirky
these things he says are part of me
these things make me scared
one day he'll say
Oh Miss Wilde
        Miss Wilde
        I've known you awhile
        But you're just a child
        Miss Wilde
        You had me beguiled
         But your personality is really quite mild
         Miss Wilde
         Your antics have got me all riled
         You're wild Miss Wilde
         and I'm absolutely reviled
         so go on your way
         get out get out
         to the sandbox and play
         because you're just a child
         My dear young Miss Wilde

She walks on egg shells
        there is no second chance
she wears a dress of broken glass
         the consequences will be dire
She's heard it all her life
          this isn't baseball- there's only one strike
Even in drama games
          one small ***** up
                  one unintentional mistake
                          the crowd goes wild
                                 SHEEEEEEEE'SSSSSS OUT OF HERE!

I eat well
I sleep well
I **** well
I dream well
I laugh well
I bathe well
I breath well
I live well


so   why    don't     I    feel   well

all she wanted
was for him to hold her close
and demand to know what's wrong
so she could cry in his arms,
but when he finally did
she froze
and could not speak a word
except
I'm
*sorry

he's in the next room,
that man,
and what do I think of him?
more importantly what do I think of myself?
Each night like clockwork
thoughts begin to drizzle
and put a weight on my heart,
fear that I'm making a mistake
that I need to get out
before it's too late,
fear that I'll regret this all in a year
fear that I'm worth nothing more
than his toy,
he does, in every breath,
something to contradict all my fears
yet here I am
3am
and I'm petrified
I'm going to get hurt.

Down in Piedmont park
lovers are necking
dogs panting
squirrels gathering
girls basking in the fiery sun
and film crews hustling to and fro,
down in Piedmont Park
the trees whisper words
to the poets curled up
on historic benches,
the grass brushes softly
under bare feet-
new borns giggling at the new feeling,
down in Piedmont Park
people live their lives
and offer little glimpses
to stories
so much bigger
than Piedmont Park.

I'm happy I know I am
but there's still a bit of my heart
left behind
in that old mining town
that green valley
and I thought I took it with me
I thought I had forgotten
and could focus on this new man
but waking to a text
and feeling that empty space
I remembered
why I couldn't feel for this new man
like I should
like I wish I could
confirming
that I had slipped part of my heart
into T.L.'s pocket
and I might never get it back.

He plays the guitar
        with a soft raspy voice
             we spent last night *******
                                   this morning too
                                he didn't mind
                        take after take
      of my audition video
seventeen strong
but he demanded ten more
             shopping
      and laughing
      and kisses
                        losing count
                              of how many times
                                          he tells me I'm beautiful
resting my head on his
as he watches all twenty seven auditions
again and again
to make sure I am successful
and choose only the best
        I fall asleep in kingsize white sheets
        peaceful
and smiling
                    knowing that I am safe and happy.

She eats a thai chicken salad amidst a crowded restaurant,
no one notices her sitting there.

swimming with supermodels and billionaires at the spire-
so unnoticed she might as well be one of them.

A smooth jazz club,
she stays hidden in cigar smoke.

she wanders the city
night and day
yet no eyes meet hers,
no accidental shoulder brushes,
she walks tall and strong
ten pounds lighter than before
with smooth skin and silky hair,
yet she goes unnoticed,
she passes through the city
like a cool breeze,
and nothing more.

Jade sauna
just over body temperature
to increase metabolism
smooth blood flow
and sweat out toxins
my hair is up
there are no lines on my pale smooth face
I'm happy and peaceful
I look so serene
and so skinny
"'scuse me you speak Russian?"
it's one of the cute foreigners
I've had my eye on
flirtations ensued
and it was nice
to be looked at
with fascination
with cute wonder
getting complimented
through broken english
as he ran his hands through his hair
smiling abashedly
trying to make sense of my words
as I did the same for his--
we were up all night talking
"no halloween in Russia,
but if had, you be Queen"
he knew nothing of me
just this peaceful calm side
that smiled and giggled
and carried a conversation
like a feather on the wind
he saw a girl he could smile at
and say
"you are very beautiful"
"you have lovely smile"
I'll never see him again in my life
but what a wonderful memory to have of someone
nothing but kind words
and laughter
and peace
serenity
a few of the things
I treasure most,
yes,
what a lovely memory
of Annex the smiling Russian boy
who drank tea with me
at the Jeju Spa
until the sun rose
and the lights came back on.

I don't know why
I don't want to admit
I need somebody
to hold me
and love me
and tell me I'm beautiful.

not a moment of peace
serenity
constant noise
and fighting
and ignorant immaturity
this tank is too small
I am not a fish
I am a shark
a beta
don't keep me in this bowl
where I can never be by myself
I want to scream and cry
I'm going to lose it
I'm going ******* crazy
get me out of here

None of this has hit me yet.
It hasn't hit me so hard the absence of feeling has rippled into the rest of me,
to all things;
all events
and all goodbyes
are said with not even a hint of a tear
nor a hint of a smile
nor a fast or slow beating heart
it's said with words I know I mean
but they do not sound so.
This leads me to believe I am terrified.
So terrified
so frightened
so unsure
and scared
it has shocked me frozen
paused in time,
because if I recognize this daunting task
this great fear
this leaving of the few people who truly mean something to me
and the only place I have ever known,
I will not be able to venture one size 8 step into this great adventure.

It's time.
the prologue has been set,
the characters introduced,
the inner conflict clear
and the goals established.
and now it is time.
This plot cannot progress
unless you turn that page
start the next chapter
and watch your hero,
one foot in front of the other,
bravely go
to a world unknown
and face trials untold.
You cannot read the end of the book
you cannot get your answers
unless you read the hero's hardships
and triumphs
and all the times of love and loss.
A book without an antagonist
without plot twists
and tears
and complications
and thoughtfulness
is hardly a book worth reading.
there are necessary
unavoidable
plot elements needed
to craft a story for the ages.
the first draft may be a rocky road
and you'll be overburderned with tools and guides needed to write
but soon
all you will need is your bare hands
a paper
and pen
(for you cannot erase the kinds of things written in this story)
and determination.
And on your story will go.
On your hero will walk.