My dreams are painted clean
Tucked and trimmed by a sewing machine
My mother's face is wrinkle free
And smiling for eternity.

My father's voice is soft and kind
My brother's eyes are sparkling blind
My sister's arm is thick and strong
My family line is clean and long.

My pencil fertile, conscious itself
Collecting brilliance without my help
My headache gone, my nostrils clear
Breathing sea air gushing near.

Inspiration well stocked, character for sale
My clothes well spun like a handmaid's tale
Garden promise behind shut doors
This is what my dreams are for.

Will eternity have
  a yin and a yang

Will the forces that govern
  applaud and harangue

Will the blessings have value
  if damnation moves on

Will it all even matter
  —once tomorrow is gone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

I’m not the girl that your mother warns you about.
I won’t break your heart.
I won’t kiss your best friend.
I won’t make you choose between what you love and me.
I’m not that cold.
I’m not that reckless.
But if you give me a chance.
I will love you more than anything.
I will kiss you when you cry.
I will stand by your side until you decide otherwise.
And even then;
I will still love you.