attention
her sorry eyes
plead
watch me
feel me
see me
Here
is all she wants to be
eyes on me
don't blink
see me
her heart screams
her smile screams
watch
fingernails like claws
grasp at the eyes
the mind
the whole heart
of whoever sees her cry

the windows to the soul
it blinks
screeching glass bending for the simplest movement
the air inside is muggy
any the pane begs to break
to release
years
centuries
the air has waited
never breaking
the glass always strong
by now
all that is left is the dust.
the pane shrieks
screaming to break
for the glass to stop holding on.
it wasn't quite a home run
the pane creaks
the glass speaks
rattling to the ground.
the dam overflowing
the baseball rips through the window
tearing it in half,
then thrown back
avoiding the shards of glass
the puddles of tears
chips of glass sprinkle
drip
crashing and cutting those who try to mend her
jagged pieces of her eyes
bleed with the kindness that comes
with saving those that are gone behind the window
with the broken walls come
thicker walls
more layers
prepared for the next baseball
ready to reject it and throw it back harder than it was tossed before
once broken
the window gets stronger on the outside
new glass
but the pane is still weak
and breaking
so they shut the window tighter
so no warmth
no wind can cradle it
no breeze dares
to come close to the broken glass.

My soul is a
Flower
Constantly blooming and withering.
it needs rain to bloom
but when the clouds recede
and leave the flower alone, the roots dry
and crumble
into a broken heart.

i was taught to be afraid of my shadow
to be scared of the monsters under the bed
to fear closets
but It taught me
to turn around
to face the sun- then you'll never have to see anything ever again
to cuddle the monsters-they're the warmest
and to cry in the closet-the walls will cradle you when no one else does
the voice
the voices
in my head
taught me the good
showed me how to love the bad
and made me realized
that i'm the ugly

The darkness flowed from the flower’s bloom
Like ink dripping from a quill
She was the night sky
The flower’s veins shrieking
twisting awry

Olive stem slit
Xylem seeping with the thick blood of a crying wildflower
The pain inside like being torn apart
The shears leave the roots shrieking for their blossoms
The yin to their yang snatched for their beauty
her petals
once colorful
already seem gone
replaced with the wilting blooms
drowned in an ocean of the rain's tears
the source of their life seen only through glass
one at a time
rotting inside out
each petal droops
jumping into the trash
what have they become?
murdered for their splendor
yet begging to be with the likes of dirt
to be home
under the surface
to hide and begin once more