submissive smiles bring teary eyes.

"Get a little rock and roll on the radio and go toward all the life there is with all the courage you can find and all the belief you can muster. Be true, be brave, stand. All the rest is darkness."

day by day, minute by minute,
I know my future holds more
I learn how much I am worth.

You laid on a towel, eyes glued to a screen
That phone was more interesting than me,
And you missed so much because of it
You missed the ducklings that swam by
Missed the giant pelican that landed on the cypress tree
You missed the way the current changed with the wind
You missed the croaks of the alligators
Missed the sounds of acoustic guitar and James Taylor
You missed the way the sun light hit my hair
You missed my brown eyes trying to find yours
You missed the conversations we could have had
You missed the tiny moments that make a memory
You'll remember a boring day or texting someone else
But I'll remember the birds, the music, the water, the smells
I'll remember the conversations in my head
And I'll remember how you weren't a part of it

If I could write a poem by just throwing a bunch of imagery
on a page, then I would. And I do. For example, this weekend
was pounding floods filling up homes and clogging minds
thunderously down hills, lightning and fear, and then it was
fire in the sky and heat, steaming the water back up,
sunlight, sunburns, tank tops, sitting on concrete
running through the mud, staying up late, plans not made,
snowballs, dried throats, black coffee, red skies, board games
grass to wet to sit on, sleepy eyes, the first hint of summer, trees blooming,
washing our legs in the lake, school canceled, getting work done, with friends forever.
Soon I will be free. Am I not already free?
We talk about our futures and sing songs like we're
all gonna make it. Have we made it? Will we be alright?
Time rolls onward and forward and seasons pass and change
and I have my own car now. I will be eighteen years old soon.
I hope God stays with me. I hope I stay with God.

i made love to the beach
and i thought of you
its airy wind reminded me
of the time you came and went

i made love to the wind
for it sprinkled over me
like a thousand winters
harsh and cold

i made love to the sun
again and again
forever addicted
souls forever mended

i made love to the sky
for it loved me so effortlessly
it had been my morphine
just like how you used to be

(b.d.s.)

Depression and anxiety is a flaw in chemistry
**Not in character

Currents
of electricity
tiny pulses that
barely roll off
my skin
my skin, shivering
not from cold
only vibrations
just under
your lips
that are near me,
not touching
your eyes on me,
slaking thirst
your stare
penetrating
your hands
in the space of thickness that grows
between flesh
up against the wall,
breaking it down
the heat that opens up
between us
is like lava
and its liquid
pulls me in
then
all is a rush
my cheeks in pink blush
in this private universe
just our breathing
pulse quickening
tiny tongue curls
wetness melting
I am a pillar of fire
your touch the slow burn
as I writhe upon
this stake of desire
imprinting my loneliness
with your need
stirring up my inner forces
with the power
of your
          giving

In Florida sometimes it rains so hard
that you believe that it can't possibly stop,
that it will just rain and rain forever.

Sometimes I'd wake to a storm late at night,
and I'd sit out on the porch.

You could smell the lightning, and the coolness of the storm would
make your hair stand;
I'd feel so alive.

Some nights I'd go out, and my father
would be sitting on the porch already.
Lost in the storm
or maybe
called to it.
We wouldn't talk,
but we'd be lost together
in the rain and thunder.

Sometimes I wonder what of him
is left in me.
I am not sure
if I am more afraid of there being
very little
or of there being a great deal,
but when it rains
I think about him on that porch;

I'm not in the mood, said the girl bent over backwards for a guy that just wants nudes.

I'm not in the mood, said a girl numblingly tracing grains back to their roots. Because family is everything.

I'm not In the mood, said a girl who just got the news that her granny won't be here to see summer.

I'm not in the mood, said a girl who plants memories in flower pots, donating dimes and nickles. Just incase she could bring her back.

I'm not in the mood, I said.