her boots have canyons in the seams
loose stitching comes undone until
it seems that the very fabric holding
the rubber and canvas together
will fracture like an unreliable narrator's
stream of consciousness
fragments of unreality

they will fall by the wayside
hand-me-downs to those
less fortunate and she'll
select a new set
to wear thin

some people swap shoes readily
bedazzled with glitter or emblazoned
with images of intergalactic wars or
Winnie the Pooh caricatures
characterizing our oscillating
personalities and whimsical fancies

i wear the same
beat-to-**** pair
each and every day
i feel at home when
my soles sink into
the warm embrace
of entangled laces
regardless of
where i roam

gigs at local venues
beach excursions after dark
vegan cafés
craft coffee bars
cramped classrooms
both teacher and student
i may wear many hats
but my sneakers remain

interminable

they say death is but
the next great adventure
i'm not certain i believe it
but i'll wear these vans to
my casket just in case

Keep things where they settle.
Settled.
It settled there, so keep it there.
Wrapped.
It's wrapped there, in bubble wrap;
Placed in the box, very carefully.
Bubble wrap fits nicely in boxes.
The pretty box is labeled:
“DO NOT DISTURB. DO NOT TOUCH.”
Don't open Pandora's box.
"I won't." Just a little touch...
She slips and it blasts open.  The wind billows
throughout the room, knocking her
off her feet.
Torn pieces of paper dance in the gusts of wind
and settle, placing themselves in a circle
around her.
She's wrapped
up in words unseen, unheard.
Unsettled.
Keep things where they settle.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

I am the queen of what ifs
Sitting on a throne of could've beens

My fears are my loyal subjects
Escorting my dreams to the gallows

My ambitions are now prisoners
To my court of procrastination

I, the queen
Reign over all of this regret

I swear this is the last thing I'll write to you:
You were my first love, the best "first love"
I could have ever been given. For that, I thank you.
I swear this is the last time I'll write your name;
but I've actually never written your name, not in poetry anyways,
so instead,
I will never speak your name again.
I say this every morning
and every night I count the times I messed up.
This is getting long, but I swear I will never check my snapchat to see if you've seen my siblings on my story.
Or my instagram, to see if you saw that pretty dress I wore one day.
Okay, one last thing - I swear I don't really
care but please don't throw away that picture of me. Keep it around.  And that letter I gave you on your birthday -
Keep it. Put it away.
Don't throw away that picture of me; it's my favorite.