Typewriters are more romantic than
Leather journals and black pens.
But there's something about my cursive that feels like
I'm just writing unsent letters with love from my wrist
To you.
And to me
That's the biggest piece of my soul I have to offer.

Unpack your bags filled with hate and selfish thoughts.
Don't think because you've carried it thus far it will be bought.
You alone are the owner of the sin you hold so dear
And the desperate, hungry monster that you have brought with you here.

Don't think for one small second I will entertain your game.
You should know that from this party will only come more shame.
Satisfaction will never find you when you ask and never give.
Selfless is perfection, the only perfect way to live.

My burdens are my own, just as yours belong to you
You brought this disease along the way and to the end you have to do
What you meant to do along the way, to carry it in your pack.
To feed off what you do not have, to feed off what you lack.

But your hate has no place in my life, and still no place in my heart.
Of nurturing this selfishness I will not have a part.
I love you with a love so deep it's only fair to say
I will not help you feed your hate along our two lives ways.

I'm writing with unsteady hands
Walking on frozen feet.
Rebellious phase. Changing myself.
Always with the realizations at 1:30 in the morning.
And when I write about waking up to your face it's because I can see it.
Just as it is like a lucid dream.
I smell coffee all over every fantastic moment of existence
Because I'm fairly certain my existence started with you.
You don't know how often I cry, or how loudly I think.
Or that I'm not really a writer. Just a distracted
Addict
To putting myself in characters.
Remembering what my life was, and what it has become.
I don't write I create.
I don't write I remember.
I don't write I dream.
And it's not about me, it's not about you,
It's about everything I've ever wanted it to be but
Was
Am
Too afraid to do
Be.
Become.
Idealism is everything I wasn't but am choosing to aspire to.
With my hair with my eyes with my ears.
I want you to see me the way I see me.
But that's unreliable.

How truly wondrous are his works
He painted us the stars
He formed us out of dust and clay
And knows best who we are

The sky, the Earth and all of time
His marvelous creation.
And though we often stumble and stray
steadfast is His patience.

His love amplifies our spirits
Though we will never be deserving
He's immeasurably worthy of our praise
Yet still teaches us by serving.

It's Him who cares for each of us
And, like the stranded sheep
He'll search us out and care for us
So no climb is to steep.

All things, through Him, are possible
Through Him I find my worth
The Lord is greater than any gold
He knows, He made the Earth.

You want her skin to be like the light from stars shining miles away
In a sky you know nothing of
And her eyes to be gray like storm clouds.
You want her heart to be unexplored
So the map is yours to chart, the land yours to claim, and the life yours to take.
You want her harmony.
You want her voice to be the sounds of a hummingbirds wings,
Sweet like wine on a cool April night
And yet tender like the January wind.
You want the moon.
But the moon is not mine to give away.

She woke up
And she could feel
His chest
Rising and falling underneath her fingertips
And she thought
She'd fall back asleep
Over
And over
And over again.
Just to wake up
Draped in him
Over
And over
And over again.

I went to goodwill and took off my tights
Just to wear someone else's pants in a closet.
The shoes I bought were perfect but petite,
they didn't match my outfit anyway.
So I walked through the fire in heels and a dress
I got runs in my tights and blisters on my feet.
My chest littered with bug-bites from sleeping on the sidewalk.
Then we drank coffee and tea until 11,
getting phone calls from rehab and holding each other
Laughing because it was finally nighttime in hell
And our straws, and the stars, were all glowing.

A small child once swam up to me
While I was drowning and gasping for breath
And asked.
Kindly.
Be my friend?
Without responding I looked at her,
And ignored her
To continue with my flailing in the shallow water.
And it took me until now,
And until later
To realize the deepness of the water was in my mind.
That she had not swam to me but walked
With water around her ankles
Her ankles alone.
So now I'm standing
In shallow water
With a friend, who has waited
And waited
For me to realize there was never any water at all.
None at all.

We're finally here, you said.
As you and I were walking in the dark.
It was cold and my hands were alone
We were trapped by a flurry of people and lights.
Onward we walked, miles and acres
through gates and trees, under the stars with no path.
My lonely hand was burning in my pocket
The other too far away to notice.
O, there were so many sights to see!
As the lights danced around and around  our feet
They were talking and whispering  and yelling to each other
calling loved ones by name and nickname: Larry, Jay, Pete.
And I was looking your way, but you wouldn't've known
You couldn't tell I was staring at your eyes
And hanging on every word you had to say
You looked at me and I turned away
Because my lonely hand was burning a hole in my chest.
I was to ashamed to say the words, but you knew
And in an instant my hand was cool
My lonely hand was no longer alone and my heart fixed.
And you were staring at my eyes, looking my way
And I said we're finally here.

I live in a desert
My Dear.
With a loopy-eyed cat who bites
and a roommate who might as well.
All of my clothes are ripped and stained
and I don't know where I'll be working tomorrow.

The other vagrants and I
We can't afford to stay,
but we can't afford the gas to leave,
either.
The summers are too hot--
the winters are too cold--
and the days and the nights are too dangerous.

But we're here
and we're young.
And someone has to feed the cat.

An old man knocked on my door and gave me flowers
He said "darling keep these forever" and he walked away.
So I sat and wondered about the death of these flowers I was told to keep forever
And I put them in a vase and slept.
When I awoke I was an old woman with a house made entirely out of roses
With the old man sitting next to me.
"I see you got the roses.
The ones I always meant to give you when I first saw you."
I could see in his eyes that I'd always loved him.
And that we were young.

He's the cigarette that makes me want to take up smoking.
Because he'd be so good with a cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning.
He's every line I've crossed out trying to put to words how I'd like to breathe his poison
Over and over again.
Until he's nothing but a pile of embers and my lungs are black with ash.
He's two strong arms hovering around the waists of girls who already know they're beautiful,
Cause he doesn't have time for girls who don't realize it.
He's a tall, strong whiskey on the rocks.
Sharp as a knife in a New York City mugging,
Cool as the Los Angeles breeze,
Deadly as the Arizona summer.
All I want is to inhale deeply and let him slowly
Stop my breath.

I think I'm secretly just a white girl
With an infinity scarf and coffee with one pump of vanilla, cream and nutmeg.
Mooching off Dad's netflix account.
Pretending to be deep for likes.
And listening to music through my smartphone.
But something tells me it's not a secret.

I can tell you that the caged bird sings
Slow, sad songs about her wings.
Notes, like tears her crying brings
As through the air her sorrow rings.
Caged birds are told they cannot fly
No matter how much they wish or try
They're told to kiss their dreams goodbye
And are left to sing and wonder why.
This caged bird escapes to a ray of sun
Just her, a moment, if only one
She sits until her crying's done
And sings and flies for her, for none.
I don't know why the caged bird sings
Of flight and freedom and other things.
She's forever doomed, her heart stings
For the hope to which her singing clings.

So I'm back again at sleepless nights, after all the steps I took.
You once again passed through my life without any second look.
Be prepared for disappointment, my mind said that it would come,
But my heart controls my hope and my hope is something I can't numb.
So wide awake I lay here and I wonder what you feel...
Are you empty?... Are you bitter...? Is your soul even real...?
Do you blame me in your heart for what I cannot control...?
Do you even have a heart, or does your chest just have a hole...?
Such a petty waste of time, my mind calls it as it is.
But my heart controls my spirit... and it thinks my spirits his.

It's about time for me to move away; this was never going to work.
The sun is too hot, the wind is too cold, and
Frankly,
I never had the energy to question the winter.
Bundled up, walking in the dark and watching over my shoulder for demons
I've never seen, but never not known them.
I'd rather let go and sleep on any corner in any town
Letting go of what I never had
Than to lay comfortably in a bed I've never shared.
And I've said never seven times.
Because that's how certain winter is.

Sometimes I find that I am thinking of you
and my eyes drift towards my senses dissapating and
evaporating
in the air like little
wisps
of
smoke
and I can almost catch them in the palms of my hands-
but they instead snuggle around the tips of my fingers and vanish
in the air.
Then I go mad with questions, questions for which I don't know how to answer but by memories,
memories which are countered and argued by speculations.
Did you ever love me?
You said
Yes.
But why, then, did you let me go? Was it because you thought I was already gone,
gone like the little
wisps
of
smoke
that became of my senses?
That I left you?
I did.
I had already bought the coffin for my memories to be buried in with our love.
But you do not control your heart with your mind.
Do you?
No, you do not. You cannot.
Did I ever love you?
I said
Yes.
And I do.
And be mine forever, never let me leave you.
But you did, you bought my ticket and paid the cab.
You hurt me.
But I still long for you.
And just like that my strength vanishes
evaporating
like the little
wisps
of
smoke.
And I wimper like a lost child.
I am a lost child,
find me again, before I elude you
like my fingertips were by the gentle wisps.
Catch me before I fall.

A woman seeks guidance, but never direction
Because in matters of importance she knows
That though she loves with the innocence of a child
She will never forget her scars and her woes.
And her soft hands that you hold onto for dear life
Are covered with blisters and stories you will never hear.
You don't want to know that you need her soft hands
To drive away everything you secretly fear.
A woman dances ballet in each step she takes
And she never speaks, but each word she only sings.
Because a woman knows you need her sweetness
And rely on the peace her song brings.
Beneath her dress she wears armor
She knows her heart would be safer gathering dust.
Yet she gives freely her love, smiles and laughter
And, too often, her precious trust.
She is a dangerous warrior
With a spirit timid and fee.
A woman's love is a treasure
Much rarer than it seems to be.

The past will always be written on our faces
In moments.
Left for us- and us alone-
To silently acknowledge
With fondness and with longing
Before we let them pass over us
Into the futures we've each chosen
For ourselves.

Please let me write this out
So when my mind drifts to the two of us
Even I can't deny how I'd love to breathe you in.
You are fascinating.
Fuming.
Fearless.
Cold, dense, brilliant and strong.
Dark and deep like a cave.
You're cool like the ocean during a hurricane.
You panic like a raft in the sea
Without a paddle, drifting
Close to shore.
How can I ask you to follow me home
And let me take care of you.
My favorite story
Who knows the ending.
Let me read in peace.
I can't deny that when my mind drifts to the two of us,
We're on an adventure
Somewhere we've never been
Without time or reason.
But that will never be.
Not as long as you sit in a fuming, fascinating
Deep, dark cave
Where I cannot come get you.

You made me believe in love, in her power and her grace. I freely gave you what I had and you threw it in my face. I didn't think it could be true but you had me at hello, I devoted myself completely to you, I loved you more than you could know. ***** chewed it up and ate it, spat it right there on the ground. And there at your filthy feet my heart and soul I found. You're a demon, you're a serpant, you're a lying, two-faced troll and what's coming for you is big and bad and it wants your blackened soul. I'd say run your heart out but I know there's nothing there, you're just the Devil in a skirt and heels, pure evil with great hair.

I like the taste of old coffee between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.
Just how I like the blast of the a/c on a hot June afternoon.
And sitting on the porch looking at the city when the sun finally sets on these summer nights,
A tea in one hand and a book in the other,
With a mosquito swarming somewhere near my ear while its friends nibble at my ankles.
I like candles and hot showers and waking up after the sun to find out it's still only six am.
But even if you don't like all of these things too,
I still like you in the summertime.

See there's this guy that keeps me up at night.
He sits in the corner of my room-
Not on the floor, not on the ceiling, but just hovering there-
Just above my dresser.
And he just waltzes into my dreams.
And he says to me "Kasey, you know why I'm here."
Sometimes he looks like a woman without a face.
Sometimes like a child.
Sometimes he's a soldier or my father or my mother.
So I wake up. And I think.
About my Grandparents being married for sixty years
About working for that long at loving another person.
I think about who I am and who I want to be.
And where I'm going how I'm getting there.
All the while he's still hovering in the corner of my room
Telling me "Kasey, you know why I'm here."
And I won't leave you alone until you understand.
That to the left there is a path and to the right another
And one above you and one below you.
Through you and throughout you.
And there's no medium for which to make a choice
But your own two hands.
And you'll get up and write at three in the morning
For people who just don't care.
About things they don't care about.
And your migraine will not go away.
You know why I'm here, Kasey.
"You know why I'm here."

I'm not sure whether it's your name
Or the voice surrounding it that makes it so beautiful,
But it is as close to perfection as I've ever seen.

Beauty is whispered after silence
In emptiness.
I am beautiful
Tonight I don't remember why,
I will never remember why.
Haunted by memories of times I was tamed.
Beauty is wild and free.
Tender and grotesque.
Regrets when you stop holding my hand.
Whispered in a busy crowd.
baby
I'm sorry. Beauty is not this.
Out of breath, out of sleep, tender mangling of love letters
Unrehearsed tango of the lips in the dark.
I will love you forever.
Will never stop trying.
And your silence is beautiful.

You're all alone and it hurts
You don't have anyone's arm around your shoulders,
or hands on your waist
or breath on your neck keeping you company-
keeping you warm.
You can't sleep because it's too cold inside of you.
Your heart stopped trying ages ago, your breath is just an act
Your smile, a facade.
The mask is suffocating you, but you like it.
Don't deny it.
The way it tingles and makes you feel something for once in your life,
Makes you feel anything at all.
You love it.
So you let the pain keep you company,
And warm the cold, and fill the void,
and slow your breath...
You now see that pain is your one true love
And with that realization,
You sleep.