she is lost
blowing through the wind
always on the move
and nowhere to call home
she dances around
on a windy day
and maybe stay on someone's lawn
but she never stay too long
even if she wanted to
because she is lost
and too light
to fend off the wind;
separated from her tree
what will she do now?

When I was in second grade a boy punched me
and I punched him back
until his nose bled on mulch

and ever since then I don’t chase boys
and I do not care for blonde hair anymore

when I was in second grade I would make
homes for fairies in the dirt using
moss and leaves and dandelion stems

when I was in second grade I had a house I could rattle around in
I could sulk like an angry ghost in a house built in 1867

I would wander around in the forest with two boys
I convinced them we should break into old houses
and our neighbors sheds

We created a world of green and vine and stumps
For Christmas one year we decorated a tree

We were the little ones who never wanted to go home
We called ourselves Peter Pan
Because we were never growing up

That was all before I moved
And the last day with them they crowned me Queen

I would climb on the roof at night
and feel the warmth of the sun still lingering there
and that was back when I was scared of what was in my closet

but since then I’ve befriended it

Sometimes books make me unhappy
because there are probably too many of them
to read before I die.

It pushes down on your chest line a thousand pound weight,
unable to get out from under it.
Tears form in your eyes and your heart pounds in your
chest and you can’t breathe and you feel
trapped in your own mind
desperate for an escape
clawing your way to the surface without prevail.
Stuck within the labyrinth,
every turn you take thrusting you deeper into a puzzle that you cannot solve.
Your worst fears come out to attack you at your weakest,
When you can’t defend yourself against their evil.
There’s no help for you.
All you can do is tread water and hope not to drown.

You were far away.
Farther than halfway across the room,
A glass in your hand and that crooked smile
Rising like the sun on your face.
I was swimming-
Maybe drowning in a sea of people.
He was trying to talk to me-
About the every days that composed of
Almost nothings.
I swear I felt my skin wrinkle in my
Little black dress
And my toes pinch in
My high heels.
I told myself it was worth it.
He said I was beautiful
But I look across the room
And your eyes don't meet mine.
Each time I look at you and
You don’t notice me,
I feel myself taking a step into
The inevitable stairs of
Heartbreak.
I danced all night with him-
He taught me how to waltz in squares
And spin in turns.
His hands fit into my curves
Like those plastic cylinders
That build towers and cities.
But I still felt it didn’t belong there.
Your hands
I bet would fit like roots into
My earth
And this would beat any hundred story
Building because it was natural.
He might have disagreed with that
And at one point through that night
So did I.
If my heart was beating a thousand times
Per second and
My palms rained over my knees
And my cheeks were apples ready to
Be picked every time you passed by,
Surely that isn’t natural.

Slowly, I was pummeling
As the night neared its end.
I had not danced with you.
I had not talked to you.
I had not even walked by you
And yet I could have.
But with a heart beating as loud as mine
I didn’t want to risk you hearing it.
One thing for sure though,
I know was completely natural,
Was goodbye.
It was going to happen
And most say that it's the worst moment
Of any night
But honestly,
I had fallen in love with our goodbye.
Good night wasn’t enough but your
Tan rays of light blooming the roses
In my cheeks,
Proved you to be a source of life.

I pass the places we were
one year ago today
not purposely,
it's just that my Gods seem
to have an ill sense of humor.

Walking slowly, numbly, dreamlessly around
a blinking city
that refuses to belong to me
ever again.

With every step kicking up clouds of dirt
in form of awkward memories
from not too long ago
that feel like a hazy far away dream.
it is easier to pretend they were merely that.
Reality is much harder to accept.

Bright Cakes with soft candle light
that graced your brow.
And I find myself hoping and wishing
I didn't know that you were doing so well,

if so...I'd be able to lie to myself
and imagine that you think of me
a little sometimes.

I hope you found what you wanted,
what you relentlessly worked so hard for.

Happy Birthday.