I wake up
45 minutes earlier
To pick out a pretty outfit
Not a "I really tried pretty"
,but a "I really tried to make it look like I didn't try
Pretty."
I crown myself with
One.. Two.. Three
Spritz of perfume
And inhale
As the mist
Dances
              To
                   My
                         Feet
Everyday
Just for the chance
Of being noticed
Please notice
I really want to sleep in tomorrow

His mind is cotton poetry
On a hard delta plane,
kissing my thoughts and
helping me remember
love
Eternally toiling
Under Golden blessings,
he calls me sharecropper.
Picking his thoughts
and weaving new ideas,
I imagine life
as a dream.
When the awakening comes,
will we be with the sun,
or will it just be
Me?

When I say I love you,
I am talking to the person that I thought you were,
not the shell that you've become.
Your facade is transparent,
and the cross that you choose to bear isn't exactly saving anyone's sins.
So please tell me why.
Why are you making things
more difficult than they have to be?
I wanted to be with you.
I wanted to be with you,
and you can't lie to me.
You wanted me in your life too.
I trusted you.
You betrayed me.
You are a coward
and I am a coward for not admitting it.

I tend to remember the ***
Vividly.
Under the heat of the moon
His hands grasp my woolen hair.
Visions of Mississippi cotton fields
And California berries
Embrace my mind.
And just as a gasp
for the last molecule
of esteem
In the musky air,
He would take me
To where love and lust
Combine.
One often times
Subjugates the other
,but I can't tell which.
So just say you love me
Now
and convince me
Later.

Im sorry that I was so busy trying to make you love me that I couldnt see your pain. Im sorry for expecting you to love me when you cant even find the strength
to love yourself.
Im sorry for not loving myself the way that I tried to love you.
Im sorry for not telling you the truth;
that being, I cant love anyone dumb enough to love me.
Im sorry that Im glad I met you.
Im sorry for making you my priority meanwhile I was cast as your understudy *****.
Im sorry for allowing myself to be your understudy *****

My hands are afraid of being held
Though they are cold
And slightly frostbitten
They'd rather be alone

Achingly
The tips of my indigo fingers
Yern for your return,
For the stregnth of your palms
But my hands

My hands are afraid
Of your third degree
They would rather be
Alone

To run to the far side of the pasture
Is to stop one’s own heart
Quick
Like the flash of a lightning bug
Little ones’ feet wander
As do their minds
Away from tales of fairies
And white gods
To big oak trees
On the far side of the pasture

Grass claws at his face
As his knees bend to the rhythm of his feet
And tiny black fists keep time
***** of mallets striking marimba air
“Don't let mama catch you”
Bounces against the walls of his cranium
Crash-
Into the oak tree
“Ouch”

**** tears
All they do
Is ruin the makeup of pretty girls
And blur reality
I need to see
So I blink away the rumors
Wipe my face
And get my **** together