I’ll miss the polka music echoing through your home.

your little chair, whittled down and faded through the daily routine.

Prayer cards scattered about your pills and telephone.

You’d roll your eyes at Grandpa’s jokes.

You always wore pink shirts with flower designs.

I’d catch you smiling at me in unexpected moments.

Everything I wore was pretty in your eyes.

You’d tell me to bundle up and call you often.

You never failed to be silly with me.

I went to your house Grandma, and your chair was there,

everything in place but it felt so wrong.

My beautiful guardian and Grandma, I’ll love you forever in all walks of my life.

Stay by my side, I’ll see you soon.

-Your Granddaughter

In sallow faces and hearts beating fast
lies a dark abyss that will forever last.
That bones take home in seeping waters
Face the world and all its slaughter.
Truth takes the hand of death one   last    time.

And my friends are delicate even with steel breast plates and glass eyes that dazzle on nights where the moon comes out to join us.

And my friends wear crowns to show their worth but others forget that it tears into their skin making them bleed from beaten thoughts and overactive brains.

And my friends don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves. Their hearts are trapped in rib cages beating melancholy tunes into themselves when life is bleak and time grows long.

And my friends can love into death the beauty of hands and flowers- the world on their shoulders and the photographs in their skulls breed truth and hope in people’s good intent and adventure.

And my friends are a whole other universe strung with the same thread that can’t break because their soil is strong and their garden nourishes all.

And my friends are timeless, classic, radical souls that leave your house painting crooked and your eyes wide.

And my friends don’t know that. But now they do.

We can't speak.
So we use our tongues instead.
Soft exhalations, I breath you into me.
If my body wasn't poisoned with your liquor lips, I wouldn't have muttered....
I miss you.
****, I miss you.
The days pass faster with your presence far into the forest of our past.
Where we remain until
you whisper
those three
little
syllables.

The truth is, truth hurts.
It especially stings in the corners of old dirt covered scars.
The ones you concealed from your eye sockets.
The truth is, lies are easier to believe.
The lies you strung out over soul topics.
You are afraid and you are a coward.
The two things you tried so desperately to dodge.
Realizing you are a source of pain makes all tasks heavy.
The truth is, I became lies while thinking I was truth.
Maybe one day I'll throw up my cigarettes and broken heart pieces so I can finally heal.

You've got a pale mind and skin to match.
Misery still wet on your lips.
Don't shy away from the sun darling-
It with it's horizon will broaden yours.
It's time to stop showing your scars
But to restore your golden glow.
We're all cowards at something in our heads.
Heads filled with endless delight.
Heads filled with drowning corpses.
But
Our dreams-
Sliced the expectations of brainwashed bystanders.
Intertwined with poison and passion can show us-
Love
Will
Always
Survive.

I never loved you, I didn't dare.
Your forsaken heart is not for me to spare.

You'll tell me don't return dear
Our conquered love will die here
and so will you
to me.

Erasing every hand track
I'm never going to come back
to before summer came.

Low lit room
Your perfume
Seeps into my lungs
Seeps into my lungs.

Transfixed eyes
Alibis
Slow this scene down
Slow this scene down
There you go.

Breathing slow
No one knows
You're halfway out my door
Halfway out my door
Watch you go.

So tell the trees
So I can be
Remove the traces of you
Remove the traces of you.

Lower your guns
Because no one won
I'm not your possibility
I'm not your possibility
Anymore.

As look at you, you look far away.
My cracked lips only want to speak your name.
Let my tongue feel the same.

Burn me so I have the scar of you with me.
Drown me to fill my lungs forever.

I know these words will transpire,
but keep this sound wave in your head.

I tried writing you a letter the first of May but my heart shot my hand with a silver bullet.

I tried dancing in your dreams but the sunrise stole you away.

I poisoned your cup with my tears but in your smile they dissolved.

I tried walking into your presence but my head crippled this body.

I tried.
To stop.
Trying.

Now how do I nurse these wounds?

He wore black suspenders
and was as tall as a skyscraper.
A dark green shirt and quirky socks.
I saw nature in his posture.
His eyes stung me at a first glance.
I know I’m young but my soul is old. His hands are magic on that guitar. His voice pierced.
Glances were exchanged and before the night fell I twirled out the door.
A smile and wave is what he’ll have as a memory of me,
just a passing girl in his world of faces.

I dreamed last night.
And for the first time in a long while
it came back to me with the morning.
A man who appeared to be a doctor entered my home unannounced.
My parent's delighted faces sent rays of light into my mind.
I looked at my cracked hands dazed away.
An uncomfortable presence filled the room with an eerie smoke.
He continued with "We are going to make you beautiful."
I never asked for this.
I never knew about this.
beautiful.
The word lost it's true meaning.
"Pick out your new eye color."
"I'll close the ragged holes on your ears."
"Better hair."
"Smaller nose."
I awoke in fright.
Then I wondered,
Out of all the dreams, why did I remember this one?

I asked the flowers “Why do you live when you know you will die?”
Eager and willing they invited me with soft fragrance.
“We don’t pretend to live in the present.”
“We don’t deny our fates.”
I waited patiently as the question had not yet been answered.
Their petals spread in enjoyment because my ponderings gave them happiness. The irony in that thought.
“We live for the weeping parent who outlived their own.”
“We live for the tiny noses pressed into us.”
“We live for those who feel they can’t for another day.”
I asked the flowers “How do you keeping giving?”
Their humble voices in unison echo
“We were born to give and so are you.”

What’s in my empty bed?
I’d like to say blankets from old forts or maybe pleasant dreams forgotten in the pillow threads.
Maybe water marks from when we pretended the bed was a boat.
We would never sink.
The water never stung.
Surely my imagination disappeared along with my sanity.
I didn’t have a choice like Wendy if I wanted to grow up.
It was ****** upon me like the unforgiving nightmares.
When dreams turned to black.
I promise if you puncture my pillow now some salty tears and sorrowful wails would escape from years of concealment.
Hope only exists in peaceful slumbers where temporary death occurs.
My bed is still empty even if I reside there.
Because I’m empty of my childhood.
I’m empty of what the world gave me.

I always told myself it was the last time.
The last love, the last loss.
You had a strong current.
Pulling me in while the waves hypnotized the walls of my heart.
I’m the fool now.
Only a silly girl makes the same mistake twice.
Or more.
I guess that makes me crazy.
I’m not going to talk to you again.
Not just for myself, but for you too.
You play the victim so well.
I’ll just leave you for the encore.
When you told me I was poison I resented you.
When I told you to go your blood boiled.
I’m going to wonder if you started liking the idea of me.
Somehow putting shackles on me gave you a sense of freedom.
You are going to ponder why I have left you so many times.
I’m going to make sure it is my last time leaving you.
You beat something too many times it dies.
I learned that through your unyielding gaze.
I don’t feel remorse.
I decided to start loving myself.
That ultimately hurt you.
I do take responsibility for my actions.
I sound cruel and crude.
**** it because it’s how I feel.
Let me go forever.
I don’t want to lead you any further through my garden mind.
I hope you find a home soon.

Our fragile lips never touch.
Forbidden fruit.
Poisonous pain.
As you go up
              I must come
                        Down.
I gaze at your perfect reflection.
I try to linger for you.
Do not weep dear we have a job to do.
My opposite obsession.
A contrary coincidence.

My unfortunate state leaves me watching lovers-
Who could be us.  
I’m left with unresolved dreams at twilight.
You may seem dreaded by most but
I count down the stars disappearing in my presence.
I’ve never seen your rays.
Your flaming passion holding our world together
As I fall apart.
You take pieces of me with you.
Have them.
Keepsakes of our nonexistent love exchanges.

For how funny a fairytale for our children.
When the moon fell-
In love with the sun.

Who has the power to define beauty?

Who decides what makes our hearts sing?

Because lately the things we say are beautiful are fake-


For heavens sake-

We're telling young girls to throw up who they are like having it makes them a fraction less- so they starve.

We're transforming and twisting the painting of our faces and little by little erasing other races.

We're tearing down trees to make room for skyscrapers who promote outward perfection in tiny magazine papers.

We're making plastic dolls with no sense of identity instead of building real humans without vain nor vanity.


But their idea of beauty is not mine,
The essence  of real beauty cannot ever be defined.

Hands are paintbrushes
Intentions the colors
Splatter your soul
Remember the memories you lost in the sink
People are paintbrushes
I’ll make you my masterpiece
Never bought
Never borrowed
Stick you in my gallery mind
My heart contrasts your hues
Hands are paintbrushes
Fingertips the bristles
You can use up the red
Or dabble in blue
Whatever makes it true
Souls are paintbrushes
Leaving marks on door tops
And in white sheets
We colored the rainbow
with romantic gestures
Despaired minds are paintbrushes
Without any paint
Any voice
Never changing the black and white universe
Refusing to touch the world
You bring the brush
I’ll bring the colors
So broken paintbrushes find hope among the paintings.