“i love you”
those words
                      d
                         r
                           i
                             p
                               p
                                 e
                                   d
                                      from his lips
i believed his deceitful manner
his charisma, it was alluring

It's the days when you don’t cry,
But you don’t smile either.

It’s the days when you’re quieter than usual,
And people notice.

It’s the days when you aren’t quite thinking about anything.

But if someone asked you what was wrong,
You wouldn’t know where to start.

the trees whisper
rustling, gilded intonations-
spilling secrets like honey
into the productive blue sky.
sunlight lurches through the trees
and cracks my foolish skull,
sending all of the thoughts
I had left alone in there
spilling over the golden
dappled forest floor.

you seep into my periphery,
delicate and half formed
amongst the moss and the earthworms.
I smile at the exoskeletons of
decaying memories;
crawl, crustacean-like,
sifting for something more tender-

dredging up phantom images
that flutter lazily across my eyelashes
and come to rest in greedy palms.
breathless mirth
and incorrigible melancholy
commingle in your shadow
and hold me fast.

you and I live and breathe
in the same stratosphere
and I don't quite know how
to let it go.

I miss you, and the words
twist around my fingers
like a rosary, pausing
at the accidental stutter
of my naked heart.

My childhood, what a rosy picture. The Texas drought was over. You could see the dewy leaves, on the wet sidewalk. The tree’s, so grand, towering over me. The sun peeks through the branches, and a beam of light meets my eye. I see gold dust gleaming, glittering, glowing; which makes my yellow sundress twirl round, and round, and round. The clouds blush pillows of rosy gold. A light airy mist lands delicately in my caramel colored hair. No worries, no responsibilities.
All the grass is wet, and green again.
I am happy.

Inhaling loudly, she is mindful and content. She stands in the center of the skyscraper building, swamped by the tick of high heels and chatter. She is hesitant and anxious, but composed. A number of scenarios go through her head, as a mass of bodies walk past her small frame. She goes for it, and walks confidently toward him. She clutches onto her files and folders. He sees her now, he smiles. The small interaction makes her stumble, and her hands let loose, papers floating through the air and swiftly skimming the floor of the office building. He helps her gather the papers, and they both stand tall, inches away from each other. “I’m such a clumsy, I mean I’m such a clutz.” He laughs, she laughs.