The soul has as its sextant the ribs opened wide,
The heart its compass in fluid circuitous diatribe,
When each to zone the geometry of Greek sky  
With its powdery fabulism of centaurs and jars
From Aesop’s wine of words, the untimeliness
Of sundials to Charybdis’s bloom of giant watery eyes.

To know oceans by the dry riverbed of my pulse,
To scale only as high as the sparrow’s tomb of my heart.

I'm breathing slowly.

I begin
  to become
             undone  

whilst letting you love me.

It’s a gentle loving,
an act of giving.

We all have cracks
that are in need of filling.

She was
footprints traced in sandy waters
sunflower fields
bloomed in thorns
thunderstorms swept
in salty air
Her spirit twinkled
of northern lights
flirting with a million acres
of honeydew blossoms
She was
the magic
that he adored

am I even surprised to say it?
the unconcerned let my calls go to voiceless,
any effort gone unnoticed until, of course,
I transform into that perfect little paper doll,
that chill bonafide debutante, to mirror your
cracks and crevices and nightmares;
hope and harm are imminent and strange
and all I’d like to do is tell you things,
but instead we dance around the lies
and every time I miss you it burns

again it has happened,
that radio silence, that
perfect broken brilliance;
so familiar, so threatening,
that hum of anxious breaths
and tongues and chests,
my glass has shattered
again and the blood has
filled the floor and i
step towards you too eager
to kiss the wounds
on your feet and ankles
and pray to god you
kiss me back and you do;
there is a nineteen-year-old
inside whose heart begins
to burst but there is a grown
woman out here pretending to
be into this tragedy
this destruction of naivety
this stranger who continues
to call himself my friend;  
maybe one day he'll mean it

I’m just so angry
That you kissed me and
Walked away
And that you missed me
And that all these men line
Up for a chance to taste
This body but never this
Soul and I’m so angry
That everything I’ve prepared for
Is never going to happen,
That my grandchildren
May never see snow,
That I may never feel peace
Again, that my heart aches
Constantly. Just constantly.
My home feels like a trap and I’m
Walking through molasses towards
My death and I’m angry
That nobody is here to hold my hand