Air slips through the forest
thick with howling.
The heads of trees guard the sky
from my desperate eyes.
Darkness wraps around
my hand.

Now I reflect on the dying
car, the clogged freeway,
not getting my promotion.
And Lena, filled with clinging
images–based on the neglected
text messages–curses me
for running-off with the barista.

I walk alongside my roommate
from college, “life is like a forest,”
the bush rattles him out. I stop
and change direction. I’ve changed
my direction before. Now it’s a poem
that glows before me. You must change
your life. I didn’t need this, I didn’t.
I would have changed.

I wish I could let the infinite sea know of my problems -
of you
it would wash you away from me
one wave at a time
and the shores would start pulling harder and harder
your essence sprinkled on every corner
and the storms that would arise out of you
would let me know that finally
the world understands what it means to be in love.

Let me clear the air.
I am no poet.
I am not beautiful or tragic.
I'm just a girl.
A sad, angry person
Who has been at war with the world.
But all the same,
I'll get into mischief with you.