Rustling by the window
“Is that a cat?” I ask
“No”, it says
“Why?” I ask
“It doesn’t mew”, it says.

Rustling by the window
“Is that a dry leaf?” I ask
“No” It says
“Why?” I ask
“It isn’t autumn” it says
          
Rustling by the window
“Is that a ghost?” I ask
“Yes” it says
“Why?” I ask
“It says yes.”

"So why are you painting a woman in a bottle?"
The challenge. Handling all those quirky reflections and layers of transparency.

"She has phantom arms and legs, what about that?"
Yes, pretty cool. A Vitruvian woman in a bottle.

"I'm looking for Meaning: Don't paintings look under the surface?"
You mean, what does it mean, really mean? It's just a way to test my skill.

"But what are you saying with that?"
It's not feminist nor anti, it's just an exercise. Besides, there's a rope.

"But aren't you, as an artist, exposing reality, presenting emotions and feelings, seeing the soul?"
I'm not on a soapbox-- I'm testing my skill-- I paint and don't think about it too much. After all, 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar' or is it 'just a smoke'? *

"I don't like your message."
OK, I'll paint you in a bottle...
As a shrunken head.

Was it fun,
Watching me dig my own grave,
How about when I tripped and fell in?
No. The most delightful part must have been dropping the dirt on top of me.
Watching me suffocate,
Alone and helpless.

To the boy who loves me next:
Please understand I am complex,
and **** your cliches,
this is not some Tumblr post.

I am a host for emotions I cannot control at all times
there are some things you should know
before you decide that you love me,
don't.

Don't tell me that it's going to be okay when I stop breathing
especially in public.
Please don't go when I push you away, though. I don't mean it.
You need to know that I want you to fight for me when I tell you to leave.

My favorite color is purple and my favorite food is strawberries.
(oh and this weird vietnamese noodle dish I never know the name of)

Sometimes I will test you, and not in the "just checking if you were listening"
test kind of way

But I will see how far I can push you until you want to leave,
please don't.

To the boy who loves me next:
understand that the first boy to love me took a lot when he left.

I'm not picking up the pieces anymore, I don't expect you to.
But I am creating new ones and need someone to be there to hold the box of nails or kiss my finger when I've slammed it with the hammer.

Know that you probably won't do anything wrong,
well you might, you're a guy
so you're probably going to say something I will take as
completely sexist!
you pig!
don't you dare compliment my *****! *******!

wait! that's what boyfriends are for,
I'm sorry, I forgot.
I do that a lot.

To the boy who loves me next:
I'm a feminist.
I probably eat 10 bananas a day.
I love coffee and would rather wear my hair up.
And yes, I ****.

To the boy who loves me next:
my room will not be clean,
messy is as messy does,
and even when I don't do a lot
(which is often, oh boy do I have my days)
I am a slob.

To the boy who loves me next:
Chamomile tea is my favorite smell.
I will probably tell you 45 times a day that I think you're handsome
and mean it every time.

To the boy who loves me next:
I have scars on my arm
please don't mention them
I've put that behind me
somewhere you're allowed but cannot get comfortable

To the boy who loves me next:
I'm going to listen to the same song 150 times in a week because I like it,
and I'm sorry but you will probably have to deal with it.

To the boy who loves me next:
I'm sure you're going to like the song anyway.
I have three cats,
I can't take care of dogs very well.
I'm over emotional.
Baby goats make me cry.

To the boy who loves me next:
I cry,
a lot actually.
Don't take it personally.
You'll understand eventually.

To the boy who loves me next:
I like watching the History Channel but I've been watching Gossip Girl for a month now.
I pace myself because I become
emotionally attached to characters in bad MTV shows
faster than real people.
I want you to think I'm a bookworm but I start more than I finish

To the boy that loves me next:
You won't if you see me without my ADD meds.

If you love me next, know:
I like rough ***.
Pretty rough if I might add but I won't tell you that for a year
because I'm shy
You should also know I'm loud,
I don't mean in bed,
I mean roll the windows down because I talk
and get really excited over trivial things like
fresh fruit in season
and sometimes I ramble on about nothing
and you should be able to handle that

Can you handle that?

To the boy who loves me next:
I am apologetic and scared because I have loved once  
I never thought that high would bring me down to where I am now

To the boy who loves me next:
I'm going  to pretend I'm rough around the edges,
please see past it,
or at least love me long enough to let me explain.
The boy who loved me first knows everything.
And since he's gone,
you're going to have the leftover weight.

To the boy who loves me next:
I promise it will be worth the strength it takes to carry it,
I promise to love you back as much as I think I deserve to be loved at all.

To the boy who loves me next:
do it fully or don't do it at all.

She spends her day wondering if I wonder about her.
And I do...
How my mind wanders all day back to her,
How her body wraps around mine when I cuddle her in bed,
How elegantly she walks;
How gorgeous she is when she stops stopping herself.
How she looks when she walks out of the bedroom in the morning.
How shy she looks when she wants affection,
How furious she is when someone is being wronged,
How sweet her kisses are when she's missed me,
How focused she is when she's working on a project,
How she folds herself about when she's sleeping,
How she throws herself into everything that she does,
How she makes me feel when she's in my arms.
She who loved me when I felt I couldn't be loved anymore.
She who stood by me in the wake of my madness.
She who waited when I told her I needed to finish my work.
She who wants to just collapse against me when the day is done.
She who wants to have a home for all of our Loves.
She who wants to bring beauty and happiness to the world.
She who makes my heart sings when she sings.
She who healed me in ways I thought I could heal anymore.  
She who wants to wander the earth with me and mine.
She who I seek when the thunder is rolling so she's safe.
She who I feel is genuinely by my side at all times.
She who I feel has been in my dreams as long as I've dreamed.
I find myself waking up from a sleep that kept me for years,
Eyes widening every day
To see everything in the glory that it is around me.
The glory of her presence in my life.
I know she is mine from how her hands twists into mine.
She is mine.
I am her's.
We are ours.

Dear C,
For the last week
I've been feeling down
I didn't believe anything
And no conclusions could be found
And all I could think
is " what if life has no meaning?
what if the universe just wastes space?
what's the meaning of the human race?"

But somehow
inexplicably
listening to you rant on the bus home
about how your Harvard-trained substitute
"Can't ******* teach"
somehow
unexplainably
made my day
a little brighter
and pushed the system in my mind out
like the month-long rainstorm that just ended yesterday
I guess listening to someone vent
when you feel pent up
can make you feel a little more free

so thank you

Corset and buttermilk black lined eyes
Waltzing around the past
In Jeffrey Campbell boots
I knew the truth.

She's harmless
And perhaps
Nothin' special.

She entered the room like a little gnome
I felt no hatred.

She stood next to me like I was just another person
We made eye contact
Her eyes so clearly tattooed on
Teeth like yellow brick roads
Her hair surpasses the length of mine
Her hands tiny, perhaps more fragile
Cultured, worldly eyes
Fancy vapes and smoking trinkets filled the room
They had just moved in
And I shook a little on the inside
Because I remember the mornings
Where I awoke next to you
And your little face would be covered in white head pimples
I had to make you brush your teeth
Or wonder why you didn't read more books.

God bless.

And I don't mean any harm when I say that
But it kills me sometimes
That you have painted me with Lady MacBeth's ointment of red.

The breeze sweeps and lingers on my face
Reminding me to let go, be free
You seemed so different baby.

Sweet baby.
I'm so sorry.

But I don't want you at all.

I guess I get it.
I see what it is.
We didn't say our names
Or ask questions
She just knew
And so did I
And she lives next to one of my favorite coffee shops
The place I went and met my DP at for the first time
I remember that mystical encounter
And how we walked in the sun afterwards
And I admitted that you cheated on me.

Like a sword stabbed through a shield
I wonder if you treat her better.

You got all the right things to say
You know how to listen
To qualify and count on tiny fingers and toes
And sometimes I'll think with a sweet sick vengeance
How much it got you off to think of me pregnant.

Another had me in the shower in the early hours of this morning
And it made me think of how that was where it happened for us
But this morning, I let my hair be semi wet
Her face entered my mind a few times
And I wondered why
Oh why wasn't she with you?

I dream of her often
She always appears differently in my mind

Maybe in another life
We would have shared her vape
Taken an instagram pic
Gotten 5.k followers and likes

And been friends.