Sparkly hazel eyes
Mirroring the sun’s radiant reflection
Have a stardust countenance that belies
The intricate seamless indignation
Concealed by the piercing glint.
Portals of the mortal soul
They are, a squint  
An unnecessary undertaking as it’s ephemeral
When they speak stories untold.
Tears shy away
They’ve a mind of their own and know when to horses hold
This in spite of the mind and heart being in disarray.
My speech superfluous
  As  eyes  hint at being imperious

i try very hard not to fall in love with certain boys
boys that think i am a ball of yarn they can string along
care free
i get snarled
too easily
might be
the ginger in me

i especially avoid all boys with guitars
my heart is a six string
and they've got the pick
i don't like that

never fall for trumpet players, either
the myth about them being good kissers is false

i like rough and ready boys
with dirt under their fingernails
and autumn breezes in their hair
they catch up those green fields
in their eyes
look at me with them
and i
can't resist
that one
for some ******* reason

everyone says
"get a boyfriend, red"
but there aren't any boys in this small town
that are like that
and dad says
don't fall in love with southern boys
...sorry dad, these northern boys won't do

give me that sweet summer
goodbye stain on your lips
and i'll give you
half my smile
so you'll keep coming back
for more.

You could hardly even walk
But you’d only been on bottled water.

I was drunk.

“Tell me then,” I said,
“Do I make you worse?”

You called me
A whole litany of horrors
And shambled away,
And didn’t call for two days.

(I was so vain back then,
I’m sorry for being so vain,
I’m sorry for assuming
You had stormed away
Because you couldn’t stand
Me blaming myself.

I now understand
That you were wounded
By the word
'Worse'.)

After you left me
I let a dog smell at
My chest and my belly. It will fill its nose
And set out to find you.

I hope it will tear the
Testicles of your lover and bite off his *****
Or at least
Will bring me your stockings between his teeth.

He always showers right
Before bed -
His version of a milky drink,
Taking advantage of my
Chamomile shower gel.
(Girly? Yes,
But undeniably relaxing.)

Sometimes I join him,
Knees pushing into the
Bottom of the bath,
Boiling hot water
Hitting me directly
In the back of the head,
Giving me sunstroke.

Not tonight though.
Tonight, just sit,
Wait for the door to open,
And watch the steam
Slowly greet
My mirrors.

i met a boy today

with warm hands

and his fingers bumbled as

they passed me my change.

i don’t think i’ll see

him again.

but that’s okay.

(i picked up
all your old habits,
and i'm not
letting them
go)

My eyes cry out
Like a dry desert

I can feel cracks
at the back of my eyes
It's so dry
It's sore

It's the effects of a drought
after a long monsoon