I’ve tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
“you can’t wear red lipstick”
made me believe
I never wanted to in the first place.

for every time instead
I’ve stained my lips with cherries
learning how to tie the stems
so I can slip forget-me-knots
to the back of your throat—
do you feel my restriction now?

the razors that fly off my tongue
perk thorns on my skin,
another down stroke on my wrist
will teach me that
you were right,
shyness is a virtue.

no need to speak,
go spend one hundred dollars
and some percent for tax
to cover up,
even though I’m sure your mother told you
that cotton stains.

so make it black.
get your hair stuck
in the zipper of that sundress
and pray as you pull it out
that it will lose its pigmentation
in the process
mark a down stroke
for killing two flowers
for one bouquet.

hold it
close your eyes and throw it back,
I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway
but tradition can take a lot out of you
like what you really think—
don’t say **** in public.

instead drag your first impressions
all the way to the altar
and dress in your Sunday best
a flower on your lapel
clear on your lips
a stroke for the neat decline
of the son

I tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
my image
was my fault.

Yours was only a hand, delicate and gentle.
Mine was only a waist, never pampered by touch or love.
It was but a silly heart, pounding against my chest.
It was only a kiss, under the stars, in the pouring moonlight.

Down a peaceful, quiet lane
The two-story farmhouse awaits
Bathed in evening hues
Of rich lavenders, pinks,
And dusty apricot
The lilac scented breezes blow
Whispering stories of summer
Let me dance in pastures
Of buttercups and wild daisies
Where horses graze contentedly
And Virginia bluebells sway
Where time becomes stuck
And lets me live this golden moment
Just once more

**~Marian~

you can do it, my love.

with your first step,
you are on your way-
and how good does it feel!
how light is the pack
now that your feet are in motion?
darling you could trek to the stars.

in your journey
you'll surely encounter spirits:
some will come to you from above;
most will well from inside,
but a few will rise from below,
(evil and toxic enemies of the angels).
pay heed to each spirit,
request and receive its transmission
and refer again to your fingers,
releasing their grip of control
on your hurtling craft.
You have done this and should rightly be proud.
(That is to say, smile at your righteousness.)
A path appears before you from the darkness,
the Lord is crafting your road from gold-
You cannot fail!

Forgive the populous their opinions.
Whether you are loved or hated,
you are on the path of the Lord.

Our goal isn't to last forever
It's create something that will
Something worth-it
That would remind others of our existence
That would impart our identity
That would explain our souls
That would carry the pieces of our hearts
And to symbolize that we have truly lived!