I hope you know that you are beautiful.
You are a small flower, in a field of weeds.
You will bask in the sun, and quiver in the night,
Hoping for affection that never comes.
And you deserve it, you do.
And I'm sorry he broke your heart, I'm sorry you're upset,
But please feel better, flower.
Let the rain sooth your wounds.
Let your friends water you with kind words, and unconditional love.
Grow to your fullest potential,
Because your smile puts those weeds to shame.

Time is
Strange
It flows so
Uneven
With days-weeks-months flying by
While seconds
Minutes
Hours
Crawl past
Every heart beat a drawn out affair
Every blink of the eye lasting ages
Until suddenly you're jolted forward
And you're old
And everyone else is too
And you're left to wonder
Where all the time
Went

I need a night time ride with you
along the sinking ebony tree trunks
outlined in the moons smile,
escorted by the dark ripples
caped with the milky moonshine kisses.

Comforted by those reassuring words
sent from your lips, and the warmth
from intertwined fingers.
We were transparent,  blank canvases
painted by fingertip stardust.

Tell me,
that my tear glossed eyes;
some how visible to you,
through the crystal display;
are to be wiped away, erased,
for they are not needed.
You will be my everything.

With my heart tucked behind my ear
through the whispers from the rustling leaves
it cries, you have seen this before.

You have seen me break.
Ooze down your neck and
trickle down each vertebrae from the
unkind hands of others.
Be gentle to me.

For I have fallen for you, could it be that?
Could I be your wishing star you laid eyes on
in an infinitely jewel embedded sky?

Those who love will never find it.
Those who love will write odes to crisp fall mornings
And hear symphonies crunched out of the yellow leaves beneath their feet.
Those who love will smile, even though they know
it will give them away
They will offer themselves up as if they had never given the mirror a second glance,
Let themselves be beaten like drums,
And a drum is just a bucket of silence
until you beat something out of it,
Beat something out of it.


Those who love will find poetry in the steam of their coffee
And beauty in even the worst of times;
Leave names like kristallnacht in our history books because they know that broken glass looks like stars,
And when a person truly loves there is nothing, nothing that can stop them from hoping.
People are like buckets of silence
Until you make something out of them,
Make something beautiful.


People who love know that tears
are the same as rain, and they are ready for monsoons
Because loving is lonely,
and for every drop out of shining eye
there are hundreds more waiting in the sky
and the people who love will dance in the downpour,
Collect every drop they can hold where the silence once was because drums can hold tears too,
and they will still be silent until you splash
and make something out of it,
make something beautiful.

There is a thickness to the air here.
It deepens the colors of the sunset
to make up for the way it hides behind skyscrapers;
masses of brick and glass that join the sky at right angles,
Like Atlas and his children
and all his children's children gathered together
to hold up the earth we created,
The sky we created,
With all our city smells of restaurants
and power plants
and cigarettes.
Of course we’re addicted

We are all constellations
Traced from the electric lights we substitute for stars
Even though we know we cannot replace them.
We have to remind ourselves
There are stars out there somewhere,
There are stars out there somewhere,
There are scars out there somewhere,
There are scars somewhere,
And they bleed out of peaceful park fountains and
The city grew roots around them,
Fluorescent scar tissue pumping subway cars through
Tangled arteries carrying passengers
That are fifty-seven percent coffee, add a turbo shot of Business suit and
a serving of secondhand smoke.
Of course we’re addicted

There is a thickness to the air here.
It deepens the colors of the sunrise,
But we cannot see it from below the ground.
Of course we’re addicted

my facebook block list is full to the brim with hatred
misogynists, racists, those who use terms like "feminazi" and "it's not **** if you tell surprise first"
my Facebook block list has family members who bad mouth my mother as if she (and I) can't see it
there is one aunt who keeps a tally of money spent on gifts not asked for
one uncle who sits (joblessly by choice) on a high horse
one cousin who wonders why his mixed bag family doesn't like his confederate flag tattoo
my Facebook block list started with a man who found my phone number and began sending me text messages at night despite my non-response
there are two R names- boys whose crimes send flashbacks up my spine
a good way to earn a spot on my Facebook block list is to be a white apologist
"white people should be allowed to say the n-word!"
"slavery was like a billion years ago"
"white privilege doesn't exist"
another way is to not recant your crimes after you're called out
"she was born a girl"
"who cares, it was just a joke"
"you're not some feminist hero"
my Facebook block list (unlike most of the people on it) is non discriminatory
all types of haters get on it
and once you're on you're probably not getting off