my mother may not be perfect
but she is brave.
my best friend may not be perfect
but she is brave.
the ones who flinch away from touch may not be perfect
but they are brave.
they are brave without being questioned
in front of millions
they are brave without having their stories torn apart
and dug up
and denied
and perhaps even believed but still pushed aside
so as not to ruin the life
of the man who ruined theirs.
they are brave without an audience.

imagine how brave she must be
to relive her trauma
in every single question and torment and threat
plastered on television screens
and dissected by men who think
their careers carry more weight
than the abuse they have all inflicted before.

dr. ford is brave
and then some.

it's not that i'm
looking for someone,
it's that i'm
looking for more.

it's not that i
wanna be someone's,
it's that i
wanna be yours.

perhaps i beckon love
and failure
in proportion.

i know dresses don't fit me like a tube sock
and the skin around my fingernails is raw
but i'm tired of walking away from a love story
and feeling as if i'll never
walk home to one.

either i am very bad
at being human
or i am far
far
too good at it.

it’s almost like back then
i took the best that i could get.
now,
i just take the best.

i am soft
and so so vicious
my wounds are rarely self-inflicted
more often self-worsened
but you’re making me smile
you’re making me giggle and lose sleep
in the best way
i am soft
and you make me even softer
one day i just might melt
in your hands.

god i just feel so distant from all of you
after a carload carpool back from my paradise
i suddenly stopped feeling
anything about you
except guilty and sorry that i was there
i know i did nothing (wrong)
but ruin everything
i used to know i would be sad
if you didn’t choose me in the end
but i’m not so sure anymore
because it feels like i’ve stopped
choosing you

i’m pretty tired of beautiful things
looking so small in my hands
my worn, tender hands
they want to finally become the home
of things that my severity can’t crush
i am a ruiner in my own right
it’s just that i really only ruin
what is just out of reach

i’m not a confrontational fellow
i let myself get pushed to the ground
and i get up without a word
never demand an apology because
it was my fault that i was ever in the way

i rarely sleep when it’s dark out
when everyone is asleep
there’s no one to treat me harshly
and stare as i lose myself in another round
and another photo
and another song lyric

i’m so pretentious
this poem doesn’t even mean anything

i’m excited for sunday
as excited as i can be after
19 years of learning to be let down
i’m embarrassed to say that i gave up
before there was anything to give

i’d give that little number in the mirror
the entire world
if she’d just tell me
she loves me too.

while the lady in the ballroom
hikes up her sparkly dress
and tosses a drink in the face of her lover
and the prince has his eye on a
slim, red little starlet who tosses
his head back with laughter and cunning
the little mouse darts between their feet
learning more about patience, courage,
and forgiveness than
the owners of the shoes will ever
ever know.

i haven’t changed at all since the day i was born
my hair got longer
i got a little taller
but i’m still unexperienced and afraid
crying in a room with my parents
except this time
they don’t even notice.

if loving you was easy
i would have gotten bored by now
loving you isn’t a piece of cake
and that’s so fortunate
because i’m more of a pie lover myself
if loving you was easy
there’d be no reason for you
to put up with me
thank god loving you is difficult
i love that the most

i feel you growing tired of me
so i make sure we talk only about you
and i make sure to not mind at all
it’s something i’ve noticed recently.
i am always cutting off my edges
so other people have more room.

i spend most of my time
trying to not take up too much of anyone else’s
i’m not a fragile human being
i just live a fragile existence sometimes
there are so many things about myself
that i still have to learn
like my blood type
and effective coping mechanisms
and anything good about me at all
i’m sorry my low self esteem rubs off on you
and lingers like a perfume scent
in the cross-stitches of your sweaters
but you have to admit
wearing sweaters at all in this weather
is a crime of its own.

sometimes i miss the sirens
they used to send spirals through my bedroom window
out here the crickets can be so
suffocating
always i miss the people
always always i miss the people
they were mine, they were good to me
sometimes a lonely living room
can still have people in it
back home, that is
you'd think it would be difficult
to be lonesome
when you have so many people
at your fingertips
but i'm the living proof
that it happens every day.

no it’s okay
i understand
not everyone can value me
in the same way i value myself.
just don’t show up when it’s over
with a hello and a hug
expecting me to thank you
for coming.

i like to say “****” in my poems
i guess i think it makes me sound serious
like this time i really mean it
honestly?
i’m just looking for a way to say
that i’m tired
but i’m still so, so ready to keep living.

i think the ocean is alive and thinking
all the while
the ambivalent recollection in the mirror
looks at me and thinks
“yes i truly will love you forever”
i know so cause she told me.

you say “let’s go for a drive, put the top down”
and i do and i drive
and you tell me to slow down
that i’m doing it wrong
and that sounds like a perfect example
of who we are now.
i gotta stop thinking it will be like
the other times before
things fell apart.
it hurts me more than it hurts you
and i know it hurts you more than anything.

i could just put on your jacket
i shouldn’t but i will
i’ll explain that it’s cold outside
that i just didn’t want to carry it
or i don’t know maybe
i could finally admit that i think
you should just let me keep it
i think it’ll end up in my closet
someday anyway

i’m not sure that my body
knows how to handle
excitement or fear
but on the bright side
i think i’ve found a way
to cope with the answers to questions
i still don’t know how to ask.
i really do love myself sometimes.

sorry my time is off your hands
don’t mind me
just contemplating my
insatiable hunger for something that
doesn’t quite make any sense at all

maybe i’ll just order some Chinese
and call it a day.

i let a lonely wednesday creep up
i keep a key ring around my thumb
last night my feet were like leather
belted like whiplash
i may have crashed
a pink cough syrup daydream
flooded through the mainstream
i wonder could i have wandered
into nightlife
the way you tried?
we’ll all still be here next time
limbs like my father
a family tree won’t you agree
some punch and some slap
some kiss and come back
some don’t
we still miss the ones that go
plus the ones that stay at home
i’ve never felt so not alone
couch cushions and make-up bags
she brags
about a boy with pretty lips
he leaves before he quits
i think i came away with a photo
of a lover distracted by some other
consequence
he closed his eyes they took him in
i think it was
such a pretty melancholy mess
i missed you nonetheless.

this place is filled
with skins that i’ll never be able
to slide myself into
here i am browsing the aisles
of personas that i may dream about
but silky sundresses
and button up skirts
could never work their way
around me
i guess

sometimes it’s in the way he looks at me
the boy’s got eyes like something gentle
sometimes it’s in the way he doesn’t look at me
but the crowd’s got eyes that see it all
(and they like to whisper to me things like
the boy’s got something in him that’s made for you)
i think i’ve got something in me that’s made for him

sometimes it’s in the way he speaks to me
the boy’s got a mind like a wildfire like a whip
sometimes it’s in what he doesn’t speak at all
the time’s gotta be right and he knows when it’s not
i like to think of us as magnets though
and surely we’re opposite sides
because i haven’t repelled him yet

please nobody tell him i’m in love with him.

my friend told me once
that it’s nice to see that smile of mine again
the one that reaches my eyes
and my fingertips
it came back when i found this freedom
this open space of a place
she said i was bright again
i think the sun behind my smile
is you

i’m tired of not loving you.
i’m tired of the dry
fluorescent lights
illuminating not everything
but almost everything
just enough to make me think
i see it all.
i’m tired of waiting
for the stones i sent skipping
across the water
to come back
i’m tired of sinking with them.
i’m tired of noticing
that snow during spring
is warmer than i am
i’m tired of complaining
and then being scared of
what you think
of my complaining.
i’m tired of stitching puzzle pieces
into patterns that don’t make sense
just so i can ask you about them
i’m tired of trying to hang paintings
on bare white walls and thinking
i’m the problem
when it doesn’t stick.
i’m tired of being overestimated
even when i know
what i’m doing
i’m tired of falling in love
just because you’re kind to me
i’m tired of not loving you
but i’m tired of not loving me more.

i don’t want you
the real you or who you are with me
not like that
not in the way that i’ve been thinking about recently
i think my brain is a little disconnected
from reality or from rational thought
because i’ve never wanted you like that
except for maybe that one time
that i thought i was in love with you
but that was a fluke
anyway the point still stands
i don’t want you
the real you or who you are with me
and i think maybe they’re the same
which is kind of what makes me think
maybe i do.

it’s a good idea to take a moment each day
to remind yourself where you stand
and who you could have been
had you been standing
somewhere else.

another story on the news.

no, he says.
the problem in this country
isn’t guns. it’s morals.

he loads another bullet.

there is more than one type of cold.
there’s the cold from that winter wind
it blows through the window
with the hole in it and it sneaks around
the curtains and comes up
through the floor
there’s the cold during the summer
when it’s ninety degrees in the shade
and you turn on the a/c in the car
and it numbs your fingers
and the backs of your arms
there’s the cold when you’re sick
and ten blankets couldn’t reach the chill
that’s made its way inside
and your eyelids feel the fever drifting
there’s the cold that arrives when you’re scared
when you’re nervous
it nestles just under the skin
and you’re losing feeling in your fingers
there is more than one type of cold
but you’re the only one
that ever made me freeze.

i've written and posted
seventy three poems
on this website for the sake of you
and for the sake of my own safe keeping.
this makes seventy four.
seventy four poems that i've written
and still i don't think
i ever really
said
anything at all.

you found me at a dime store
said that i was priceless
said there was just somethin bout me
never could define it
dainty as a candle or the
stem of a wine glass
fill you up and tip you back
sorry for the contrast
you wrapped me up in ribbon
i admit it made me softer
swinging off the balcony
and hanging from the rafters
built a home of sandalwood
emotions made of plaster
you split into two dimensions
sorry for the after

i do this thing
where i build bridges just to
jump off them
but i never build them high enough
to do any damage
so i lay on the ground
wondering why everything hurts
just long enough to
build another bridge

but that moment you took hold of me
in the darkened room
cinema lights reaching ever corner
of my needy
lonely heart
it wasn’t so much a breathlessness
as it was you breathing into me
the air that i had been missing
i understand now.
there will always be part of me
that belongs to you.

i’m always a little worried
about a car crash
every night feels like the movies
like the perfect time
to crumple up and cross
and while the road is so dark
and your fingers dance away from the wheel
i wonder if my worries
will finally be put to rest

all the doors swing so easily
i come out sadder
than i went in
it isn’t what’s in the frame
it’s what’s beyond it
that truly paints a picture
i can’t blame you for making it worse
when that’s all anyone ever did
for you

i am not enough of
what i need to be
and too much of
what i am
sometimes the ribbons just
cut me to pieces
i talk to myself and say
“god i just love you”
and i respond back sometimes
i’m just not sure what i say
the days hang low around my waist
you may catch a glimpse of me
sliding conversations in my pockets
i get home and drop them on my desk
rewind and review
i forget my umbrella a lot
and it’s not like i’m afraid of the rain
i’m afraid that i'll enjoy it so much
that i’ll pull fire alarms
just to start the sprinklers.

there’s a little bit of
everybody
in everybody
your colors reach my colors
reach their colors
how dare we forget
that we’re human?
how dare we forget
our time underground
before our growth?
how dare we forget
that we were just seeds
and by the water of strangers we bloomed?
and now that we are grown
and have our own supply
how dare we forget
to share?

see the thing about
fighting for someone you love
is this:
when you’re fighting against a force
that is splitting you in two
opening you up to see
what your insides are really made of
then it’s a battle.
it’s noble and it’s good
and you are not alone
but when the force steps aside
and awakens you
but not your beloved
you must drop your weapons
remove your helmet and your gauntlets
and your blistering will to carry on
because once you realize that
the one you were fighting for
is now the one you’re fighting against
then, my dear,
then it is a war
and you have already had your fair share
of violence.

there are people on the internet
who will always know more about me
than my parents do.
they’ll see my tagline and
they’ll feel it
the same way that i feel it
the rush that comes with that
very first introduction
the freedom that tags along
on the coattails of
a name that at least one person
will keep as yours
they’ll feel the sadness
that comes with the moment
that someone you love
turns out to not love you back
well, not you
specifically, but
your kind
as they say
they’ll feel the dread
that comes with the look
in someone’s eyes when they
find out about everything
they’ll feel the excitement
that comes along with
the first smile that a stranger gives you
when you introduce yourself
and they don’t question
your very existence
or turn your greeting into a debate
they’ll feel the solidarity.
they’ll feel the community.
two words that i broadcast
to everyone except the two people
who gave me two different words
before they even asked what i liked.

mom. dad.
i’m not your baby girl.
i love you.
this is me
this is who i am
and who i am
isn’t going anywhere.

i hope one day
you’ll learn to love him.

all i know is
everyone around
me is unhappy
and i guess
i am too

in myself i find
the desire to exist in such a manner
that requires nothing of me
other than softness
and kindness
and yet in myself i find
only a bitterness and sourness
and that boring, bland
sadness that had never really left
and was only just hiding
because it was afraid of the light
and i had been fighting my way
to the sun for so long
but it’s so bright
and i’m so tired
and the darkness from before
sounds like such a comfortable home
to return to

i’m sorry i’m not who i think i am.
was i ever?

bobble from the branches
like earrings
do you think the tree can hear us
do you think it hears the octaves
all the volumes all the quiets
do you think maybe this christmas
is watching us? seeing us? believing us?
not believing us?
it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas
is shifting all around us
trying to shift us out of the room
good riddance
we’ve forgotten the meaning
anyway

the key to life
is living long enough
that you no longer live with reality
but reality lives with you
in a perfectly melded
twisted version of codependence
in which the answers to your questions
don’t even matter that much anymore
because the questions are just
so much fun
to discuss

my chest feels like a balloon and
it’s bound to pop
sometime
i’m just waiting for the needle
(people,
much like balloons,
are usually looking for a
reason to
deflate)

if it makes any difference

i like you either way

he sits and stares out
at the fine line between the
ocean and the sky
and wonders how it would feel
to stand on it

is the world so fragile
that it would break on impact?

or is it so strong
that the harm of one
unimportant human
wouldn’t do so much as
slow the collision between
the sun and the sea?

i don’t miss you
anymore.
actually
i’m not so sure that
i ever did.

i want that sepia tint love
put on your rose colored lenses and
pretend i’m someone you want or
want to want
just for a sec
just for a taste don’t
you remember the feeling you told me about?
the one about being in black and white
and that boy that you love
was the only colorful thing
you could see
can’t you take pity on a boy
who sees that disaster in you?
i know i’m desperate
you said you love his bitterness
i’ve got sugar on my lips but
you don’t need to know
kiss me and find out
how sweet
you really like it.

paradise isn’t
a place where the sun
never sets

it’s a place where you watch
the horizon consume
the daylight with content
because you know that the night
can only last
so long.