if i drowned myself
somebody would ****** their hand into my bowl of fruit loops and pull my face up

if i jumped off a building
somebody would put pillows on the carpet to soften the fall

if i put a (glue)gun to my temple
somebody would snap a picture with the caption "idiot pastes her hand to her forehead"

if i ate poison
somebody would rush to my side and ban me from eating fast food ever again

if i committed a fashion faux pas
my best friend would tell me to change my outfit

but if i pulled a trigger on an entire country
the world would go silent
just to watch

all artists want is to create something beautiful
so we created love
we scooped out handfuls of the sun and swallowed them like lemon sorbet ice cream
and the ends of our fingers glowed like E.T. because we knew that home was anywhere but the musty places in our cabinets where we stowed away all of our bad breath and fingernail clippings to keep from looking imperfect
but
we weren't beautiful
and we weren't perfect
so we shined till we
burned ourselves
out

It's like
I would give anything to be melting into your lips right now
To have you pull your fingers through my hair, ripping out the split ends and insecurities, wanting to make me feel perfect for you again
And I
Would take your face in my hands and press it closer, making me your mask as we try to unbreak the relationship that's broken
And the hushed, delicate murmur of our hearts would beat against each other's bodies in the perfect silence
*"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

you were never one for saying much
but you pointed out the moon in her faded yellow wedding dress
her veil covering all
but a thin
crooked
smile
across her face

You are the unbearable sort of thing that I wouldn’t want to wear on my feet, even with boots laced up to the knees, because wearing you would force me to cover my polka-dotted toes,
And anyone who would want to compromise my innocence like that is horribly patterned and dull,
                                              
Like the lone argyle sock with the tag still attached that I hate, gathering dust on that shelf in the rain, where the rest of my unwelcome thoughts have found place
                                                           ­     The ones that can’t cover my insecurities
                                                    ­                            Or don’t flatter my figure at all
              
                There’s an obvious scab on my ankle that won’t heal
                Embarrassing, really
                It came from my unwavering faith in open-toed stilettos
                                You saw it just the other day
                                And I blushed as I tried to pull my pant leg over the sore, but you knew (I think)

Oh, the puzzling urge I have to be made over by the brains of your outfits!
                                                So I can open a closet of conversation topics that would suit both of us just fine

I think
                                                I have shed 18 years of ideas in the past two weeks
                                                I starved myself until I could fit into the apparel of your approval
                                                Which I claw through my closets but still cannot find
                                                But I know that somewhere in my brain beneath an empty toilet paper roll or stuck on a dead branch of ideas is a match to your unbearable pattern-
              
Perhaps if I’d kept my opinions more alphabetized, I would’ve found it sooner
                Blast, my scattered brain that can’t seem to produce any fashion but faux pas for you
                Logic and emotion were never meant to mix like this- trust me, I know well
Give me a summer to rearrange myself, hmm?
                Or will I have no use of you then…

If only I’d started to realize sooner
We’d be peeling oranges and discussing the oldest styles of thought, you and I
                Beneath an umbrella in the rain
                                You wouldn’t be able to see that odd scab on my ankle
                                Because I would have the other lone argyle sock with the tag still attached that I hate-

I feel that perhaps
you are only unbearable because I wish you complimented me better, that perhaps the reason I’m starving myself of all reason is because I’d like nothing more than to openly say
that I hate you, my lone, little argyle sock
                                                but that is only
                                                because right now, I could never possibly hope to wear you

what gauge do you use to measure your poetry

i like it best when my mind it reflects

yet
so few of the poems true to me
are the ones that others find "like"-worthy

when i read the lines of others
etched into the wrinkles on their face

it speaks to me

because i have the same worries etched into my brow

when others read my words
perhaps
that which resonates with them is what draws them the most

thus
the best poetry is a reflection on others?

(it demands letting go of yourself)

I climbed a mountain yesterday
In my favorite pair of heels

And how I wish you’d been there
To see the looks on the faces of people who don’t know me
Who didn’t even care

But there I was with blisters
And when they asked if they hurt
I quietly shook my head.
And I hid my tears in my hair,
Because there was plenty to soak them up,
And there was no other use for my curls at the time.

But I climbed a mountain yesterday
In my favorite pair of heels.

I know you watched me from the bottom,
And I’d wished so badly that you’d come following behind
Telling me I didn’t have to do this by myself
Even though we both knew I did…
If I ever wanted to be happy again.
If I ever wanted to love again.

So you didn’t chase me…
You didn’t.
And I know why.
I guess it was enough to know that you were watching
It was enough until today

Because watching isn’t the same from that far away
I think there was a moment when you thought I was happy
With someone else

But a smile isn’t the same from that far away
And I don’t think you saw the number of times I looked back
Trying to find you
Because this boy wasn’t you

I think there was a moment when you saw us kiss
And yes,
We did
But kisses look different from that far away

And they were never planted anywhere special
Like ours
This boy and I,
We planted them in rocky places along the edge of the mountainside,
Where nothing grows and no one will stop to admire them.
They’re already dead today.

This boy,
He found me on the mountain yesterday
In my favorite pair of heels
And I’d wished I hadn’t hidden so many tears in my hair like that
Because it looked limp and loose and ugly.
But he said I looked pretty when I cried,
Even though it broke his heart.

He carefully took those heels off
And softly caressed the blisters
I could tell by his face he knew that I hurt
And why I was climbing
And why I was crying
And why I knew I couldn’t make it all the way up there,
All alone,
To the top of the world

So he scooped me into his arms
And whispered so many wonderful things
I think you thought I loved him, because I smiled a little, sometimes

But he carried me farther away from you
Until I couldn’t see you anymore

But it shouldn’t have mattered, because we made it to the top.

We should’ve been at the top…

But I missed you still…
I don’t know if you ever knew that.
But I want you to know that.
And I wish you could hear me say it:
I missed you.

The boy left today.

And I don’t know why I let him run away with my favorite pair of heels.
Well.
I didn’t let him run away with them.  I only meant to let him take them off...
It’s impossible to get them back now.
I don’t think you know yet what those heels meant to me,
And why they should be important to you.
But I will tell you someday.
Because it is important.
And I think you should know.

My feet hurt.
And I really don’t know why I tried running that day.

Maybe I didn’t understand what it meant to just wait for a while.
I think you know I hate that word by now.
But I do.
Which is ironic.
If you think about the conversations I have with you.
Where you pick my thoughts like cotton
And leave me empty, telling me nothing.
But I don’t really mind.

It was a mistake to leave my heart down there
I forgot to pack it before I set out to get over it all-

-I’m looking for you,
You know.
I left my heart down there for a reason,

And I’m just stuck now,
Dangling my feet over the edge of the world,
Scanning the bottom.
Wondering where you went off to.

Sigh.

I find myself sidewalking everything
So Silverstein was lucky to know where it ends
Will I ever be privileged to discover such a thing?
Too many trivial needs distract from its pursuit
But how am I to know?
When it's time, I only cared for my toys
The way the sheeple only care for their handouts
Do tell; if the Pentagon lays off 800,000 people
Will we know they're telling the truth about unemployment
When their words flow between mouthfuls
Of stolen fruit and gold
At the table of the elite
So tell me, who is John Galt?
I sit at a table with a mind that knows how to think for himself
And can't help but think this is the purest form of elitism:
Until at last the time has come
For the imminent end of all serfdom
Brought by the brawn of the brainy
How are we to keep our heads when the others ***** us over
Take our heads clean off to see the contents
Only the strongest can withstand the attempts to skew ideas
Upon who's minds the lying flies
Forced off by intellect
The simple last defender of God and liberty
Big Brother would have us not discuss such things
At times, I feel that we are the last in the world
So, tell me- if this paper is the last in the world, have we written something significant?
I've no doubt the world will see
The mistakes of society
Time then, will bring forth a new renaissance, with us as creators
And they, as the readers of some disconnected thoughts
Written at a time when the end of a page was a good stopping point for poetry, but not for the limit of government infringement on personal freedom.

is this normal?
i could writhe and shriek like a chicken that doesn't want to be picked up
you could watch the feathers fly up and get kicked to the dust
i could scratch you and scramble to get away

we haven't had a fight yet.

is this normal?
i could lay in bed with you all day if we weren't shackled to other responsibilities that make our lives so rewarding and rich.

we don't get tired of each other.

is this normal?
nothing about you bothers me and I wonder if anything ever will. we are made for each other, you know.

<3

convincing us we have "followers"
of what
our personality
our religion
our values
our way of life
there is nothing to "like" about inconsistent imperfection, am i right
trying to make each of us gods
before we have thoroughly proved anything to anyone about our worthiness
zero effort needed

it's weird
because i saw a sign at the grocery store that says
1 out of every 5 kids in America is starving

do you remember fruit roll-ups?
i do, too
though that is completely irrelevant
(and i think they were called fruit by the foot, now that i think about it)

i guess im avoiding talking about serious problems
because i don't even know how to solve them
i am my own jigsaw puzzle with a jugular
so i cant mess up

do you remember ever choosing your first grade teacher?
or whether or not to learn your timestables?

i never had a choice in that
i was never really informed

but i conformed myself to their insanity, anyway

do you remember choosing what clothes to wear to school?
i did do that, at least

but now i'm staring at a list of choices that adults get to make
and i realize
i never really learned how to think for myself

i never learned to make decisions

(the most thought-provoking thing in the world is a soul--)

skin cracks
mud ***** on his feet
shuffles when he moves
barely hanging on
so thin

dry, rough
the skin breaks
but does not bleed

he is rusty
flakes off slowly

he could tell me that he's gone mad
that it's a slow and painful way to go
could say he cannot handle the itch
drives him to hysteria
can't i take him out of his misery

and i would,
but i won't

(that is not dying,
but growing)

I boxed up the shirt with my heart on the sleeve
Cliché- But that’s the only way I’ve learned how to deal with things
And I don’t plan on ever taking it out again

And I’m not really all that sad
Because it has so many holes in it now, anyway
And wearing it would mean showing people too much of me too soon
I’m never doing that again
Like I did with you

I went to my dresser and pulled out all of the simple things
Simple – A word synonymous with ugly for almost everyone these days
And I dusted them off and locked those away as well

And I’m quite sad about that
Because I feel that someone (once)
Thought that they were beautiful in a special, old-fashioned way
That no one will ever see again
The last person I showed was you

I went to my closet and pulled out a mask
Mask – What you wore every day when we were together
And I slipped it onto my face

I won’t let myself be sad about that
Because maybe people will say that I’m prettier now
With a different face and a different personality
That I’ll never take it off again
And no one will ever know

I went to my mouth and forced all these words out
Words – My most prized possession
And I fixed them onto a page

I don’t care to think about that
Because it means my heart snagged in threads that
Detached from the sleeve
Of the shirt that I used to wear
Every day
For you

Being with you is like the game we would play in 8th grade science class
(everyone would hold hands in a circle to see how long they could stand the electricity flowing through their veins)

But we are magnets that bent over backwards to be pressed against each other

If you are the lightning
reaching
burning through silence
brilliant electricity
(our hearts thunder in the distance,
1 second behind)

I am the key on the kite

Our class
Benjamin Franklin
You
Discovered

the law of attraction
the law of never letting go.

03-03-15; 12:18 am
sent from: Kate Lyn
may you dream of a world
in which money is used as toilet paper
and being a millionaire means
breathing in
and breathing out
a million times a day. <3"

your kiss was a swiss army knife
i smiled because i couldn't help it
"everyone's going to hurt you, you just have to find the ones worth suffering for"

it's
           closer
                        than
                                   it's
                                         ever
                                                  been
         ­                                  but
                                  still
                       not
            soon
enough.<3

i write because i can make it as smooth or as
c h   o   p
                p y    as i want.  unlike life.

There are just some things
That will never leave your heart after you see them
Like your 6 year old sister heaving a bowling ball all the way to the lane
Just to let it drop
thud
And watching in anticipation as it creeps towards the pins
It's not even those things, really
It's just the fact that I will miss her little smile
I'll miss
watching her grow up

I want my poetry to collect dust on the shelves until the pain is covered in layers of felt and can't be felt anymore
Wouldn't that be wonderful
And you-
When I'm gone-
You could take your elbow and polish the covers with your sleeve, wondering why it's hard to breathe when the mushroom clouds explode prematurely into your eyes, making you blind for a moment and unable to peek through the blinds of my ribcage to see if my heart still beats between the pages
Would you want to know if my soul could breathe between all of those layers of letters and lint from your sweaters that clung to me like meat hooks when we parted
Perhaps I write about those things
Perhaps these are premature ponderings, these thoughts of my heart
For I am not one to go unheard
I will write this poetry and it will sit
Fresh and cured and seasoned
Waiting in a meat house for a season
Until either you or I have the sense to eat these words
And come to terms with the fact that we missed our chance to be savored and loved-
Darling, I'm waiting.
For you.

Matter cannot be created or destroyed
Is love the same
Has it always existed
In one form or the other
If so
My love and I
Well
We have loved forever (we just hadn't found each other)
And forever is a circle
Which means we never began and we will never stop

I am self-conscious about my body
There is something about strangers on the street
Looking me down, chasing me down, asking for my number before asking for my name
That I have never liked a little bit
Not even at all

It makes me more self-conscious than I already am
I don't have a perfect body
I pick at the skin on my thumbs and they're permanently scarred and that makes holding hands as difficult as finding my heart under the trees I planted in my liver to shield it from the sun of my lover because I couldn't bear the thought that I wasn't as beautiful as him

I have a small chest
I heard once
That the first thing men notice about a woman is her eyes, and the first thing women notice about men is that they are a bunch of liars
So these strangers must notice that
And it gives me anxiety to wonder why they would still have an interest

There is nothing striking, beautiful, or breath-taking about me
Until I speak (I think)
My personality makes up for everything else
At least, I try to make it so
But you don't know me

So why are you chasing a short, ordinary, nobody across the street
What am I to you?
What do you see in me?

i escape to the bottom of swimming pools
the harder it gets to breathe
the harder i kick
until my head hits the bottom

my ears pop
i am overwhelmed

i take naps on the freeway
the louder the horns scream
the deeper i sleep
it is relaxing 
to hear a chaos that compliments the white noise in my brain

my hangout is at the bottom of the stock market
but when the numbers come crashing down 
and everyone lowers their eyes on me
i disappear again

i walk barefoot on the asphalt, it's not my fault
that i want to know that searing pain can be caused by something outside of myself (my mind is not the only thing that's broken)

my finger hovers over the "delete" button
i feel better knowing everything could disappear

i don't have time
to accomplish anything

so i will scroll through facebook
scratch at my face
write a poem
and wish in my heart that you wouldn't worry so much
(i wish i wouldn't,  either)

you were lightning
and i was always behind.

the world crushes you to pieces
i wanted to be an altoid
because who doesn't love fresh breath
but everyone mistakes my dust for anthrax
and i thought we were way over that phase
but apparently short-term memory loss doesn't work with traumatic experiences
and everyone remembers
the chill in their throats, the cool air in their nostrils
when they saw
mad shoe and mailbox bombers
images on a news screen
hardly even real

i was real
and i was chewed to pieces

the thing about anonymous valentines
is that he could be dead
and i'd still want to put his name in the space,
part of my heart would still be convinced
that he left this hot air balloon with a bear in the basket on my porch. sigh.

happy valentine's day
my nameless
faceless
lover.
whoever you are.

From: girl

that there are merchants of darkness and merchants of light
you run into them every day
sometimes
the merchants of darkness scream louder
and we voluntarily reach out our hands to absorb the darkness
because we are afraid
but merchants of darkness have no power
they cannot hurt us unless we are willing to hurt ourselves
unless we reach out our hands and deliberately take what they offer

merchants of light are quieter and softer
but the more light we absorb
the better we will be able to face those who give off darkness and say
"that is your darkness, not mine.
take it to God, not me.
i only absorb light."

i could tell you they're freckles but i'd be lying and i don't want to stoop to the level of performing cosmetic surgery with words
i don't want to pretend to be beautiful if i'm not
so i will tell you the truth long before we're married
tell you about the tiny white scars that will adorn my body
when you see me for the first time
really see me

you're real
spill out your secrets like poured concrete
i know everything about you
and i'm never letting go.

my longing (for the crude, cheap replacements of human emotion scattered across this minefield known as the internet)
has entirely disappeared

i am filled

are you?

do your eyes dart to the lightning bolt in the right hand corner
always longing, never satisfied
(it's been years since you talked with God
perhaps you dont even believe in Him
say He'd need to strike your head from heaven)

do you miss the stale crusts of lovers past,
crave money,
get hunger pains of longing at the thought of being beautiful or famous
when really you are starving for something missing from your soul?

God,

He is the answer.
If you want it
If you let it

His Spirit can change you
fill you
transform you
(and you will be happy)

I could be the little swallow who sings for you
But your hands are a prison
Not a birdhouse

A soldier is stripped of everything but his will to live

I nuzzle my head into your chest like a child
You ask if I'm okay
"Yes. I just wanted to hear your heartbeat."

A human being is stranded in the middle of the sea, forced to watch a comrade stop fighting to live.

You run your fingers through my hair,
Cradle my hand in yours
We are still lovers, still breathing

He makes it to the shore of the enemy
Is immediately demoted to POW

I wonder if you know that I'm a prisoner of love; it is quite the wonderful setup. We kiss with the lips first, and you ease into tongue because you are patient; you are okay with waiting

Beatings
Torturous conditions
And then--
He is liked and wanted
Is allowed to leave camp to tell his parents he's still alive
And in that building he sees "a woman for the first time
In two years" you whisper
Something I hadn't thought of
And I wonder if men need women more than I recognize

Because he was the robin, see
I built him a birdhouse made of the fingernails I chipped from every time I was forced to button up my own flannel shirt
It was quite silly and awkward-looking
So it didn't bother me when he didn't want to live there
It would take a lot of fake smiles and wooden blinds to tolerate a habitation such as the one I constructed for him
So it didn't bother me when he didn't want to live there

When he told me he was making a nest I took a paring knife from the kitchen drawer
When he told me he was making a nest I gave him 10 inches of weave to (through) the twigs
When he told me there were lots of split ends and varied shades
I wasn't too hurt because it was true

And I knew he would use twisty ties from bread bags instead
Which were much more practical than 10 inches of lover's hair
I just couldn't understand why he didn't give it back

He misplaced it, he said
How can you misplace something I had (longed) for him

Stand over my heart like a flamingo
(I dislike sturdy traffic cones, anyway)
As you do so, peer into the well for the calculator I dropped
It's there somewhere
Lord, I hope you can fly
Because I can't help but push your stubborn form
Over the edge like this

I wish there was a bar
Where you could pay other people to drink your problems

Away.

My thoughts are dangerous
I am the pilot of the plane
But I fancy the idea of plummeting to the earth in a beautiful ball of fire

Romantic, I think
Stunning, I think
Breathtaking, I think

But the only beautiful part about it is the falling
What of the melted flesh, burning hair
Fragmented remains of something perfectly wonderful
I didn't need to ruin

My thoughts shouldn't be dangerous like this, but they are

You cut the cords of your most common cliche,
[Because you are the puppet master of my fate]
Because I'm too obvious,
So easy to use,
With the flick of your hands I'd clap for you.

You watched me clatter to the floor in a crumpled heap
[For the last time]
Listened for the sickly beautiful sound
Of my wooden smile splitting
Into a chipped and broken grin.

[And for the first time]

Saying "I love you" isn't enough anymore.

[I don't even know that I'm hurting]

i cry during Bambi
you cried in your car after your high school girlfriend tried to come on to you

you and i--
we wouldn't, but--
tonight
or tomorrow
or the next day
we could give ourselves away

we could shoot white deer together in the mountains without a license
the blood from their heads would make cherry snow cones in the powder
and we would have fun savoring the flavor
watching something innocent die

but how would we feel the moment it was over?

you will hear my roar
tackling the beaches
over
and over
and over
again

maybe someday God will give me strength
to make it farther than the shoreline.

Gall, dad
If I had my way with money
I would make something out of it
A house of credit cards
Write my poems on all that paper with no true value
I mean
You trade your thoughts for George Washingtons and Abraham Lincolns
Well
I keep mine
To help make more
People
Like the ones on our currency, but currently
I don't think you understand where I'm coming from
And as I sit here
Tapping away with my thumbs on an electronic device that you thought made up for my childhood
I wonder
What did you trade for me?

(i)

It’s wrong of me, I know
            To wait around for you to say extraordinary things, sweetheart.
                      
But there’s something so enticing about true love
                        Wrapped up in fancy scratch paper
                        With half the lines crossed out
                                                [Those are the best kind of things to say, you know
                                                            ­‘Cause it means I’ll spend hours smashing myself
                                                          ­  Between those lines
                                                           ­ Trying to fill in the blanks
                                                          ­  About who you love,
                                                           ­                         And why.
                                                … I miss knowing those things
                                                          ­                          Just a little.]    
            All tied together with the broken guitar strings
[Where now rest those hummingbird wings?]
You’d tune for me
                        Before anybody knew who you were
                                    And I was the only one who listened.

I miss the you I knew

            The one who told me I was beautiful,
                        All mismatched and clashed,
                        Because we were the brains of this outfit,
                      
And how were we to know that
                                    Dreams and reality
                                                Can’t ever
                                                Be worn together?
                        [At least, that’s what Mother would tell me
                                    When I asked to wear her fancy pearls to bed]

I remember the day before we were expected to grow up
            [The day before the sky turned inside out
            And suddenly
                        We were expected to know why it rained sometimes,
                        Were expected to expect pneumonia if we played in the puddles too long,
                                    Were expected to know black from white
To stay indoors and turn gray overnight.
Yes, the day before all of those expectations rose to meet us,]
We were expected to go to a gaudy dinner party
To boast about ourselves.
And everything we planned to become.
            But I hated heels, and you hated lies
            So I showed up in fuzzy bunny slippers with my hair done up nice, and you-
Well.
            You didn’t go.
                        There’s something about growing up you never took a liking to.

Everyone knew who you were by then.
And I sat alone as they talked about you
                        And all of the wonderful things you were becoming.
                        And I just nodded, picturing the boy I once knew
                                    Yes,
The boy that no one knew
                                    With dreams so big they encompassed the entire sidewalk in chalk
                                    Whenever we sat down to visualize the future
we never really thought would come
                      
                        There was never enough room for me to color mine
                        [So I simply signed my name
                                    All small
                                    In the corner
                                    Of that sidewalk gallery of hearts and hopes]
                        And that’s the way I wanted it
                        Because-
                        Well,­
I didn’t need a dream if I had you.


(ii)

It was too perfect, really.
Well, I was, I suppose.
Perfectly innocent.

I now see how illogical it is
To assume that a heart can simply be cut away from the chest,
And given.

For it is impossible to do so
[Truly]

No,
You got so much more than my heart, my love

From the ends of my eyelashes to my fingertips
All of me was yours

Yes,
From the frantic way my heart beat against my ribcage        
[Like a tiny hummingbird
            Wanting to burst free
To taste you with my entire soul
            Swallow you whole
            Not merely glean a teasing sample with my lips]

To the way it melted through my chest
And slid softly to my fingers
Resting in your palm
Yes,
When you placed your hand in mine
            I was clutching the reality I’d only ever dreamed of
            [My heart and I were a package deal- and you held both]
            Yes, it was the closest I’ve ever been to happiness

Oh, love…
I loved,
With every part of me,
I hope you know.

But I never considered that I did
Not really

Until that moment when you led me in my fuzzy bunny slippers to the chalky sidewalk
And silently erased my name from that corner
            Whispering you were sorry all the while.
            But we were all grown up now.

[That was the day I stood with my arms outstretched
Mouth gaping open
To catch the rain
As the sky turned inside out
Because, well.
I needed new dreams if I didn’t have you]

Tears filled my eyes, then
For I felt my heart fall out of my chest
[Yes, I thought such a thing was impossible
But I’d also
(Naively)
Thought it impossible for you to ever leave]
To rest
Forever
In your hands
[A final parting gift]

What pain filled that void!
            [I would blame it on pneumonia,
                        -For I stood in the puddles forever that day
                        Making mouthfuls of promises to that empty rain-
                        But I think we both know better
                        Than to expect a little sickness to bring pain such as this]
For I was left with nothing
And you
            [You
With a tiny hummingbird you didn’t even know what to do with
                        As it lay
                        Barely breathing
                        Barely beating
                        But doing both for you]
You still had everything

From the tears that dripped from my lashes
To the tips of my fingers that brushed them away

To that empty ribcage
            [With the bones gaping open
            So barren, but for a couple feathers
            That blew about when you whispered
                        (Hanging on to a hollow kind of hope)
But fell to the bottom of my stomach once it was clear
That you were never coming back
With my little hummingbird]
And that flat thump in my chest
[From the pendulum I secured in its stead
                        Marking each moment I spent without a true heartbeat
No frenzy of feathers
No
Just a hollow, rhythmic stupor
That fell over my soul]
That reminded me
I had
Nothing to love anymore.


(iii)

            Who knows how long I stood
&nbs

(i)

It’s wrong of me, I know
            To wait around for you to say extraordinary things, sweetheart.
                      
But there’s something so enticing about true love
                        Wrapped up in fancy scratch paper
                        With half the lines crossed out
                                                [Those are the best kind of things to say, you know
                                                            ­‘Cause it means I’ll spend hours smashing myself
                                                          ­  Between those lines
                                                           ­ Trying to fill in the blanks
                                                          ­  About who you love,
                                                           ­                         And why.
                                                … I miss knowing those things
                                                          ­                          Just a little.]    
            All tied together with the broken guitar strings
[Where now rest those hummingbird wings?]
You’d tune for me
                        Before anybody knew who you were
                                    And I was the only one who listened.

I miss the you I knew

            The one who told me I was beautiful,
                        All mismatched and clashed,
                        Because we were the brains of this outfit,
                      
And how were we to know that
                                    Dreams and reality
                                                Can’t ever
                                                Be worn together?
                        [At least, that’s what Mother would tell me
                                    When I asked to wear her fancy pearls to bed]

I remember the day before we were expected to grow up
            [The day before the sky turned inside out
            And suddenly
                        We were expected to know why it rained sometimes,
                        Were expected to expect pneumonia if we played in the puddles too long,
                                    Were expected to know black from white
To stay indoors and turn gray overnight.
Yes, the day before all of those expectations rose to meet us,]
We were expected to go to a gaudy dinner party
To boast about ourselves.
And everything we planned to become.
            But I hated heels, and you hated lies
            So I showed up in fuzzy bunny slippers with my hair done up nice, and you-
Well.
            You didn’t go.
                        There’s something about growing up you never took a liking to.

Everyone knew who you were by then.
And I sat alone as they talked about you
                        And all of the wonderful things you were becoming.
                        And I just nodded, picturing the boy I once knew
                                    Yes,
The boy that no one knew
                                    With dreams so big they encompassed the entire sidewalk in chalk
                                    Whenever we sat down to visualize the future
we never really thought would come
                      
                        There was never enough room for me to color mine
                        [So I simply signed my name
                                    All small
                                    In the corner
                                    Of that sidewalk gallery of hearts and hopes]
                        And that’s the way I wanted it
                        Because-
                        Well,­
I didn’t need a dream if I had you.


(ii)

It was too perfect, really.
Well, I was, I suppose.
Perfectly innocent.

I now see how illogical it is
To assume that a heart can simply be cut away from the chest,
And given.

For it is impossible to do so
[Truly]

No,
You got so much more than my heart, my love

From the ends of my eyelashes to my fingertips
All of me was yours

Yes,
From the frantic way my heart beat against my ribcage        
[Like a tiny hummingbird
            Wanting to burst free
To taste you with my entire soul
            Swallow you whole
            Not merely glean a teasing sample with my lips]

To the way it melted through my chest
And slid softly to my fingers
Resting in your palm
Yes,
When you placed your hand in mine
            I was clutching the reality I’d only ever dreamed of
            [My heart and I were a package deal- and you held both]
            Yes, it was the closest I’ve ever been to happiness

Oh, love…
I loved,
With every part of me,
I hope you know.

But I never considered that I did
Not really

Until that moment when you led me in my fuzzy bunny slippers to the chalky sidewalk
And silently erased my name from that corner
            Whispering you were sorry all the while.
            But we were all grown up now.

[That was the day I stood with my arms outstretched
Mouth gaping open
To catch the rain
As the sky turned inside out
Because, well.
I needed new dreams if I didn’t have you]

Tears filled my eyes, then
For I felt my heart fall out of my chest
[Yes, I thought such a thing was impossible
But I’d also
(Naively)
Thought it impossible for you to ever leave]
To rest
Forever
In your hands
[A final parting gift]

What pain filled that void!
            [I would blame it on pneumonia,
                        -For I stood in the puddles forever that day
                        Making mouthfuls of promises to that empty rain-
                        But I think we both know better
                        Than to expect a little sickness to bring pain such as this]
For I was left with nothing
And you
            [You
With a tiny hummingbird you didn’t even know what to do with
                        As it lay
                        Barely breathing
                        Barely beating
                        But doing both for you]
You still had everything

From the tears that dripped from my lashes
To the tips of my fingers that brushed them away

To that empty ribcage
            [With the bones gaping open
            So barren, but for a couple feathers
            That blew about when you whispered
                        (Hanging on to a hollow kind of hope)
But fell to the bottom of my stomach once it was clear
That you were never coming back
With my little hummingbird]
And that flat thump in my chest
[From the pendulum I secured in its stead
                        Marking each moment I spent without a true heartbeat
No frenzy of feathers
No
Just a hollow, rhythmic stupor
That fell over my soul]
That reminded me
I had
Nothing to love anymore.


(iii)

            Who knows how long I stood
                        Letting the draft in through the spaces between my ribcage
                        So raw and gaping
                        My soul an empty ocean
                        Waiting
                        Wai­ting for any kind of tide to pull me in
                                                              ­            fill me up
                                                              ­            bring me out again
            I got so cold, love
            Waiting for the wind to wash up something on the brittle beaches of my bones
          
            It took forever, it seemed
            For me to swallow that mouthful of rain you left me with that day
                        [How I wish I’d known sooner that’s all it would take]
            But when I did
            It washed that pendulum straight out
                        [Oh, and how that mouthful wetted the lips of my helpless spirit
                                    Till it was chugging words I’d never been able to find
                                                And that’s why I write
                                                About you
                                                And our love
                                                That is long lost somewhere
Lost in a somewhere only you’ve ever been to]
            Into the hands of someone who thought he’d found my soul.

And how I wish he hadn’t found the counterfeit
For he shined it so pretty and neat-like
            [Oh, that it had been real]
And secured it around his neck
            I never knew I had anything worth showing off
            No
            But he made me feel that I had

Oh, but how it all was very broken
For I was very out of order, see
            Nothing to give him
            Not really
            Nothing but permission for his eyelashes to flicker at me
            For him to brush me with his lips and the tips of his fingers
                        I never backed away soon enough
                        Always left red with regrets
                        Horrific actions I’ll never forget
            [Oh, Always
                        Always
                        The­ swing of the pendulum in the back of my mind
                        Whispering we were on borrowed time
                        Because none of me was really mine
                                                But did I listen?]

He’d tell me I was lovely all the day.

So how picturesque to think of me
Standing on his porch one day
            In my fuzzy bunny slippers
            With mother’s pearls around my neck
            Expecting him to tell me once again.
But that’s when it ended
            Just like I’d wanted
            ‘Cause he claimed I was deranged for double-dipping
            Dragging dreams into the daytime
And I smiled
            ‘Cause I knew that he was wrong.
                        [Yep, you always loved my plaid pajama pants
All mud stained from puddle jumping
From the days we expected nothing but rain for us to catch]


(iv)

How horribly addictive true love is!
            Do you not agree?

For I think we both should like to be gone from each other
Forever, if we could both stand to be away that long

But as long as I live
            I shall never find someone so perfect as you
            And your eyes are the tide that draws me in time after time
            So why should I cast you out, my love?
            Tell me to go away, the way you’ve never said.
            Give me a reason to leave.
For I can’t find one at all,
Except that I love you too much to be logical
                                                     to own up to reality

--It is a sad thought
            To think you might’ve plucked the feathers from my hummingbird
            And threaded them through those broken guitar strings you tuned for me
            To make a wind chime for your porch
                        [You’re the only one who ever listened to me, anyway]
For,
            Did I not see those fancy colors hanging by your door yesterday,
            The same shade as my eyes?
I do not wish to make assumptions,
            Stop me if I’m wrong.

For,
I already know it was so wrong of me
            To think it should’ve gone differently yesterday
                        When I laced up a corset to fill that gap in my chest
                                    Donned a dress with my mother’s fancy pearls
                                    Slipped heels onto my feet
                                    And fixed my hair nice and pretty for you
Oh, love
            How quickly I found you’ve forgotten

Because when you saw me standing there on your doorstep
            All perfect
            And real
            And neat
You handed me a piece of paper
And asked about my aspirations

I could do nothing but glance at the sidewalk, surprised,
Finding nothing but gray pavement.
            For you, my love,
            Are living your dreams now
            No need to chalk them up and wish.

But my hopes haven’t changed, love
I’ve yet to live the only dream I ever wanted

And how I wished to dazzle you by saying extraordinary things
            All wrapped up in this fancy piece of scratch paper
            With half the lines crossed out
            But I don’t think you appreciate it like you used to

And how I wished to tell you that my dream could be found in the chalk dust
Still stuck to the bottoms of my fuzzy bunny slippers
I used to wear
With my mother’s fancy pearls
Until yesterday

When I tried to match everything up evenly
            And we stood on your porch
            With no one to hear us but the wind chime
                        [The feathers holding it together
                                    Just hanging on your every breath
                                                And swaying to a hollow sort of hope]
As you whispered.

You told me I was beautiful.

            And I went home and cried.

i would look like a million dollars every morning
get up at 5 am just to lie down again onto an ironing board to get the wrinkles out from under my eyes
paint my lips with Avon and plaster shadows above my lashes

i would pay very close attention to the things that come out of my mouth
i would make a special effort not to stutter and i would look each person in the face when i walk around with messy hair and ugly sweaters

i would surround myself with those who'd walk 7 continents just to fault-find
(with no means to protect the victims from the emotional earthquakes caused from the comments)
and i would be strong enough to handle their abuse
strong enough to pick them up off the sidewalk when they planted weeds in the cracks instead of flowers
and i would cradle them in my arms and hold them while they cried
[everybody needs a friend; but especially those who hurt enough to hurt others]

i would let my darling drop the dusty curtains from my soul to let the light in

we'd let up the gates
i'd let him trace his fingertips along the floorboards
knowing that he would never chip the paint
the way other prying eyes and anxious lips have done,
all other lovers left property damage

but he wouldn't
i know

i would let him install a microwave for heating his favorite foods
and if he liked art, i would let him take a crayon to the refrigerator

he can hang from the ceiling fan
tear up the carpet
rip out the doorknobs and knock down the doors

leave everything out in the open

because i am not afraid anymore
(love is the most empowering emotion)

you text me to say you're coming over
and
my heart does jumping jacks
it does pull ups on the bones lining my ribcage
my veins become skipping ropes
my heart
races and
races
until

my lungs inflate like giant love sacs
and my heart collapses
resting in your presence
as soon as your fist hits the door.

i am force-feeding myself
in order to prevent significant poetry loss

i am letting my brains spill into my throat
so i can spit the words out when the moment comes

people are much too beautiful, sometimes
others chisel away at our reputations
and i dont mind much except that it makes me self-conscious
i put my hand up to my forehead to see if there's a temperature
(and for the number of times i've embarrassed myself, i should have a fever by now)

there is something so raw (foods diet) about true love
not cooked by the heat of lust and desire
just made of the natural roots growing out of my hair and the palm leaves of your hands that cup my chin like a coconut when i let you take a sip at my lips
and our tongues (little minnows) run together like streams

i like that.

i am waking up
pushing my way through the plastic covering all of the ideas i was never supposed to touch
so many ideas

i am choosing to walk down halls with varied perspective mirrors
i stop at the ones that make me look fat
and don't believe the ones that reflect a flattering figure
i walk on

i observe
i internalize
i try to understand

why do i think the way that i do?
i was born
into a straightjacket
on the rungs of a one-way ladder

never saw that others might be scaling or ascending the same wall
with rope
sheer strength
the stairs

who am i to judge which way is better?
"the injuring of another can be in no case just."

(as long as it's not hurting anyone)

caught in little fishing hooks
pierced ears gone awry
its scales scrubbed viciously from flesh
hacked open
gory madness
soaking into the oak table
not very hygienic
not much of anything
congealing, drying
still wet enough that to touch it would be
to spoil everything
(makes such pretty colors in the wood)

he handed me the sky in a pitcher
and told me to bathe in it
so i undid my hair and my shirt and slid into the ocean that frothed over with white clouds and swirled like the mist in hot chocolate
and as he watched me i had a thought and asked if he fished out the sunlight on purpose
because that was my favorite part
well
he leaned across the cold bathtub, took my face in his hands
his eyes fluttered shut, and he whispered
you are the sun

you are my biggest sin
wrath
greed
envy
slothfulness
pride
lust
gluttony
rolled into one
simply because i want to be the one that decides your fate
want to shove all this poetry into your face when you reach the pearly gates
make you read about the greed that overcame me when i realized that you are all i want and all of you is something i will always be envious of in the arms of another girl
i want to laze in your gaze forever- is it prideful of me to think i am deserving of this, your kiss and the way your voice carries through the darkness when we sit in an empty parking lot with nothing but our words touching, the sentences rolling into each other and tumbling in perfect rhythm like a slinky down the staircase is it wrong of me? to have the need to stuff myself till i'm full of the million and a half things i will never be able to choke down and handle and that's why you are no good for me but i still delight in indulging in you anyway