I grew up taking hits from my big brother,
I grew up on "boys' weekend" camping trips,
I grew up with my father calling me a princess but calling my brothers rock stars,
I grew up watching Boy Scout meetings from the back of the room,
I grew up on LEGOs and Hot Wheels and
I still remember the year my brothers got Nerf guns for Christmas
and I got a bracelet,
I remember being shot with foam bullets and having no way to fight back,
but at least I looked pretty.
I remember seeing my dad leave for work every morning
and wondering why my mom never did,
I remember wanting to be an astronaut, but my brother told me
moms have to stay home.
The phrase stop being a girl is branded into my mind
and I still curse myself every day
for the organs I was born with.
I remember the year my brothers went as zombies for Halloween
and I had to go as a princess,
I remember bringing a fake butcher's knife
because a princess is not scary.
I grew up on manhood meaning strength
and manhood meaning confidence
and manhood meaning respect
and I still wear dresses
and my dad still calls me a princess
but I'll be ****** if you tell me I'm not a man.

I want to feel the universe exhale around me
Leaving the feelings of it all
But alas, no prevail.
And the ink dripped
Round and round
Wrapping tightly
Around my mind.
I fought,
Tirelessly,
Beating and hitting,
Till my last breath.
I've done this for too long,
Too much and too long.
I didn't want anymore,
So I let it take over.
Fitting me into a spot
I was gone,
Only a shell left to see.

~Fin.

Sshhh it's a secret, I said.
"Of Course I'll never break your trust".
So why did you feel with no good end result,  break it you must?!
Did it feel good?
What did you gain?
I'm struggling to understand, your need to cause pain?
Don't tell me you didn't realise!
You didn't think it through, I specifically said DON'T MENTION THIS, I specifically said that to YOU .
So what was your end game? What result did you want, surely it wasn't just my secret to flaunt?!

Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

Our talks of the sunset
Were poems themselves

Hello,  I am a puddle person.
I'm certainly not the only puddle person, of course.
And I often think I'm more puddle then person.

I lay on the floor still.
People come by and see themselves reflected in me.
Sometimes they step in me,  and drops of me splish around and evaporate.

I'm content being a puddle it's, comfortable.
People are aware of me whether looking at themselves, tip toeing around me or jumping in.

I am NOT invisible.

Love me or hate me this puddle person isn't going anywhere,
until I become more puddle then person.

My heart yearns for the way
I feel in her presence,
For the candlelit warmth
And melted wax flowing over my soul
As it casts out this winter's dying embers.
My heart yearns for her heart
Like two strands longing to be coiled into rope,
Stronger together.
My skin longs for her softness,
For the gentle caress on valleys of skin.
My ears long for her 'I love you,'
And my mouth so desperately wants to say it back.
Sweet Love of mine, we are almost there.

iloveyou,
you say, tangling up the three words in one breath.
i love you more, i tell you.
no, iloveyoumore, you say.
i love you more than bees love flowers, i say,
and you tell me that bees love pollen
and that youlovememore.
but i love you,
more than bees love flowers and yes, pollen
and i love you more than birds love to sing
more than wishes love stars
more than dreams love sleep
i love you more
than grass loves rain
and rain loves the earth
and the earth loves trees
and the trees love the wind.
i love you more
than sunflowers love sun,
more than the sun loves the sky,
more than the sky loves blue,
more than blue loves the sea.
i love you
ilove you
iloveyou like youloveme.