And my mind cannot begin to fathom
All the things that are different

And my heart cannot begin to feel better
After the way you have made me feel

Wind blows through the trees
Through the flowers
Swirling leaves

And my mind cannot forget you
And my heart cannot stop loving you

A declaration of benevolence
For a boy deprived of affection
Who is urged to bare his heart.
"I don't care"
Are just words verbalised in a manner
Seemingly self-convincing;
A facade of strength
When it's clear he's in pieces,
In despair, falling apart,
Trying as hard as he can to seem okay.
Mesmerising eyes express it all.
Occasionally one must hold their tongue
For holding your tongue is easily done
When one must deny feelings
Out of fear of challenging rejection.
Because both are apprehensive
In the face of emotion.
And she tries fervently to destroy walls
So resolutely built
With a motive of keeping out those with fabricated feelings,
While he didn't have to try very hard
To vaporise barricades of hers.
But how can it be demonstrated
That her sole intention
Is to show him devotion?

Celebrate your corporate-create version
of this holiday as you have your break from work -
you deserve a day off from your grind -
but don't
talk about how great America once was.

When?

Don't talk about how this "represents"
freedom
"for everyone"

It doesn't.

Red,
white,
and blue
for the blood of my people
the skin of our invaders
and Creator weeping while watching
the sky so vast above us.

Red,
white,
and blue
to distract you from the events...
the genocide,
the slavery
that led you to the freedom you have today;
patriotism like a blindfold over your not-so-kind eyes.

Remember those in mourning
over the many great losses Native tribes
& nations
have experienced
in the name of freedom.

This so-called once great nation
was built
on the graves of my people,
the backs of another
and still we cannot mourn without words -
slurs -
like redskin and squaw and ***** and savage
the list goes on
being thrown our way.

For choosing not to participate
or celebrate
the genocide of our own
the enslavement of others
the harassment and murders and hate
of people of color
all in the name
of stealing this land,
we are deprived of our right
to grieve in peace.

So what is freedom
if not given to all?
Think about that instead of the beer
in your back yard;
think about that while we smudge
while we honor our veterans.

Just let us mourn.

Eloquent words
falling
from the mouth of a man

make it hard not to notice the
beauty
o f h i s f a c e

As fibres stretch and pull to form
a smile

Or while brows knit together.


It is everything I can do to hold off the
burning

Under my skin –

The burning
impulse

To reach
for
his
hand

Or lean in closer.

The scent of his cologne simulating a false distance
Between us.


Twitching in my topmost disc urges me over,
Closer.

Just
a
few
inches.

C l o s e r.


With each minuscule
snap

Of the tissue lining the very tip of my spine

I find myself unable to maintain
The position that I have.

Giving in to the abductor that had been
y e a r n i n g

To
break
a w a y ,

My neck twists
To the right
While my conscious mind

U r g e s

The adductor to take over.

I look
     Into your eyes
          Which are like
     Windows
To your soul.
     I wish I knew
          what I meant to you.

Cold fingertips, cold glass.
Odd how the daily routine transformed
from normal to haunting
in seconds flat.

In an instant her face filled with stress,
eyes a window to things falling apart.
Slow movements made it seem
as if time had stopped.
Such a blank look on her face
made the heartbreak evident,
The drop of her fragile heart
could be felt with one glance.

Through the halls she moved
distressed;
tears clearly blocking her vision.
Pacing back and forth only caused
the small room to close in tighter.
An illusion.
Voices; a jumbled mess actually,
turned to white noise
rising louder and louder.
Still the ticking of the clock
stood out as immensely as her pain.

Such a sorrowful sound her crying was,
as it had appeared that she was
no longer breathing.

How could it be true?
An instant,
unbearable heaviness descended.
Her knees giving out,
the flowing of tears continuing
soundlessly as she sank
to the ground.

*21 is not supposed to be a year to die,
it is supposed to be the year to live.

People always ask me about my anxiety and trust issues;
Why I was perfectly fine and then one day I wasn’t.
But I don’t exactly know much,
Except that it’s made of moments like this.
Mostly it’s annoying or upsetting but finally I see what they do.
That combined with not being able to do anything about it,
It’s driving me mad.
Maybe I should have given up after I’d been hurt the first time;
But you were so persistent in being sweet to me.
So when you told me that you liked me I decided to just let it happen.

What could go wrong?
That only lasted about two months,
Before you met someone else and I wasn’t good enough.
With that affection you had given me you also took the bandages.
My heart began to unravel.
Just when I got used to the idea that it didn’t matter,
That I couldn’t expect the things that held importance at night to bleed over into the day;
Right when I’d moved past it,
You’d become the remedy to the pain you had caused.
What could go wrong?

That’s what I said the first time.
And the second.
When other people decided to make my personal life their priority.
Remember that?
You ran scared like you could turn the feelings off;
And two weeks later we fell back into our usual pace
With absolutely no trouble or second thoughts
That is, until a face-to-face moment.
No more sweet, on-the-cheek kisses or affection.
You stayed distant until we were 100% alone;
Zero chance of anyone at all observing any slight romance between us.
As soon as we were alone you had your lips on mine,
Melting me, melting into me.
Just like that it felt like you were gone.

“But what could go wrong?” I said.
More like screamed, as over and over I somehow felt my world crashing down,
And memories bringing me back.

It was 8 January 2012 when you first told me you liked me;
Spoke of the butterflies I gave you.
Scared that I wouldn’t be adequate or that you’d meet someone else,
Shyness leaked its way into special moments.
When you assured me that you liked me,
Liked me way too much to go anywhere anytime soon,
I believed you and those words.
What could go wrong?

Early March, the 3rd I believe, when you met that other girl,
And started what would be a constant fear-fueled jealousy,
But it was such a blur that I can’t quite remember.

12 July we had our first “official date”
The 23? Our first kiss.
The 27 and 29 we went out again,
And 9 August you broke my heart.
I guess you didn’t mean to, didn’t have a choice.
But you did.
And on 1 September when you waltzed in and out, I let you.
Like some kind of yoyo, things continued.
You stayed the one to make me happiest,
But maybe I shouldn’t have put that responsibility on you;
Made you the only person I could trust with absolutely everything.
But I did, and you were.

Until 28th January 2013.
When you said you didn’t like me and hadn’t for a while.
Still through the following months your actions contradicted your words.
Much like the psychology I had learned.
You probably don’t remember much but I’d explained your behaviour to you.
About how there must be some conflict,
Between what you want and what others define as acceptable.

Now it’s crossed my mind that perhaps I was just making excuses.
Because I don’t want to see you as anything other than the prince I have been seeing you as.
Even now I’m making excuses for you.
Saying that maybe you had a viable reason for all of this.
Deep down, I sense that you don’t.
Probably never did.
This is because you were never willing to be serious with me.
Not serious enough to get into a relationship.
Not serious enough to so much as mention me to your best friend.

So yeah I guess it seems like I’m bitter,
When really that’s not it at all.
It’s called pain, heart-break, whatever.
It’s the feeling of uncertainty.
And all the questions about nearly every moment we’ve ever shared.
Wondering if it’s because I wasn’t pretty enough,
Or if I didn’t give enough;
Why somehow I just wasn’t enough for you or anybody else.
Or maybe I was; maybe I was too much.
Or loved you too much, or whatever.
Somehow it could be a billion things or none at all.
Somehow none of that matters.

Just not knowing and never getting an explanation,
While you leave wordlessly to happiness,
And I sit in silence overcome by thoughts,
Crying in the shower for hours…
That is the cause of this passive-aggressive bit.
About how you’ve broken a part of my trust in you.
Just like many others.
Surely not the first and certainly not the last.