I see the sky and think "I'm free!"
I see my feet, "I'll never be."
I look back up, what do I see?
I see a plane, so itty bitty!
I see to fly, so gaily
I fetch my wallet... double bogey
I see "help wanted" within my city
I see my chance, so happy!
I work all day, live humbly
I see my pay, just barely
I see my goal, I cannot flee
tick-tock tick-tock
I count the years, more than sixty
I see the metal bird, ready for me
I see it fly, I see it's free
I buy my plane, I'm in the air
Wings on my back, no story to share

The bite and the breath*
These you do not forget.
Like a grade school crush,
the rush of the Atlantic in December
Embedded within the most physical parts of memory
like a rock in your knee.

I'm silenced by the quiet here,
the space between buildings
and the white gossip of the salt stains
Upon the sidewalk.
Spreading tales that only this dolly township could know,
Burning curious holes in the black ice
and talking to the snow.

In a year, a few new babies,
A shop or cafe proudly erected looking
Suspiciously new, admitting big dreams
To the peeling peeling paint corner stores
That will never ever ever go out of business.
These are the blocks that could never be
recreated in a movie set.

This is the willow where I told two boys I loved them,
once as a girl, once as a woman.
This weathered with the seasons.

This is the candy shop,
Whose floor once knew
my toddlish ire and snot.

This is the bay
that I explored for decades
throwing rocks into the clay
First to seek
Second to escape
Third to return
And fourth to stay.

This is the town where I was knit,
In the quiet of the valley
and the roll of the sea,
This is my body's kindred fit-

Trapped inside this sleeping town,
this is where I am free.
I'll stick around.

The smolder's flame it fills the room
And I am mixed inside the fume
Not white but gray I cannot see
The world around, in front of me
As I become unweighted scents
The gravity will recompense
All that's stored within the fix
And painted using candle wicks
Flicker bright then fade to dark
I'm waiting for the slightest spark
I'll ask the sun to give me heat
That my cold heart may start to beat
For when I wake from hazy sleep
The dried up ice will melt to seep
I long to walk as I once did
Through heavy smoke that keeps things hid
So pass away, oh dying times
My soul found rest outside your lines

You only live once.
You only live once.
You only live once.
I hear it every ******* day.
As if it’s something that I need to be reminded of.  
I hear it so often that at this point I wonder,
if it means what it used to.
You only live once.
It’s a scary phrase to me.
I dislike hearing it.
It’s this constant reminder that this life is limited.
It’s a constant reminder that this life is fragile.
It’s a constant reminder that I don’t get do overs.
It’s a constant reminder that I won’t get the chance to do everything I need to
It’s not enough time to break,
it’s not enough to heal.
It’s not enough time to inhale
It’s not enough time to exhale.
It’s not enough time to talk.
It’s not enough time to walk.
It’s not enough time to listen.
It’s not enough time to understand.
It’s not enough time to meet.
It’s not enough time to befriend.
It’s not enough time to start.
It’s not enough time to finish.
It’s not enough time to help.
It’s not enough time to be helped.
It’s not enough time to be sad.
It’s not enough to be happy.
It’s not enough time to paint.
It’s not enough time to write this poem.
It’s not enough time to love.
It’s not enough time to be loved.
It’s not enough time.
I don’t know,
maybe it’s just me,
writing this poem at 1:30 in the morning.
Stewing on the fact that this life it too short,
to accomplish anything.
Every night I struggle to sleep with the thoughts of the upcoming day’s events.
With the thoughts of that past day’s events.
I’m kept up at night distracting myself from all the mistakes I’ve made.
All the words I never said.
All the opportunities I didn’t take.
All the times I didn’t "only live once".
I sit here realizing this cliché doesn’t apply to me at this point in the night,
or rather the morning.
I’m realizing all the times I’m kept up like this,
I’m not living,
I’m forgetting how to.

I love how your smile lights up the whole room
and how your voice gets chipper in excitement
I love the way your walk jumps when your in a good mood
and I love that look of frustration when you aren't
I love how your eyes get big and your lips purse when you joke
I love your jokes
I love how they always are funny even when you're not trying to be
I love your high pitched sneeze and how I always have this longing to hug you after
I love how you blink rapidly and stand tall...even though you're about 5' 3"
I love how your hugs make me feel at home even when I am so very lost
I love how you always seem so strong and so put together even when you act silly, but sometimes when I look over at you just sitting there I can see how innocent you are and how much you may have hurt
and I have a longing to walk over to you and hold your hand
I have that longing quite often actually