the last time we saw each other
I was a mess

and you never got to see the person I was after that


you just gave up
that I was a cocoon and that the butterfly had perished inside
and might never come out.


but those wings are bright orange and purple

and I don’t really miss you at all.

i'm so sorry
my dear little darling

that i couldn't protect you
from the flame and the cold


maybe you could come home
and live here with me
in my closet
and you could make my dresses smell like your cute little perfume bottles
and your sweet deoderant sticks

i miss your skinny body, holding you in my arms
girly
you were my daughter
my mother
my sister


don't ever let anyone tell you to stop being you

isn't it silly


that i buy cigarettes

and smoke them
hoping to calm myself

(hoping to
forget about the
****
you put me through)



and realize that
I would rather
get hit


by a moving van

than to inhale

this

nasty

****.


I stomp it out

with
no regrets

I enjoy sitting in coffee shops watching business men be busy
Drinking burnt coffee
Watching my leg hair grow
noticing that my pits stink
Watching people fight over booths that have an electric outlet to plug in their laptops
Which is funny because I'm writing this on my cell phone while everyone assumes I'm texting.
Well, at least I know that I'm not.

A Brick is tied
to my left ankle

And last night

and the night before
  
        and the day before

I have been hauled into a
deep           muddy river

and you
can't
save me

because
I've been drowning

    for too long.


My whole life.



                               See?

letters to boys
in boxes


i am done with you now.
your poems and pretty words were read many times


letters to boys
in boxes
shoe boxes

filled with sweet missing and coo coos and little lip kisses


i really like to read them
more than once
and picture faces
of boys

and smiles
smiles and kisses in little folded notes in boxes

i keep some in a drawer
in my big blue house

some under the floorboards
of the cream house with the mean neighbors

some under a dorm room bed

and some in a desk, yes.

i have boxes and boxes

one for each boy.

none of them
mean any more
to me
than the next.

but don't tell me "what a waste of paper"

because each word

soothes me
like a new hand
touching my spine
in the dead of night

each word is like a new soft whisper
from a something someone

that makes me feel
so warm


so

i'll burn them all.

and make a bonfire of lovepoems, sweet kisses, your sweet ******* earlobes

and create a sanctuary for
myself
in the fire

this feels so new york
listening to smooth jazz
        drinking wine and coffee
in your room with the
                     hard floors
and the
                 soft bed

and hearing you say words like
                   fantastic
                                                and
                  i'm not tired

we stay up until 2 am,
me in a cocktail dress and heels,
you in a tux

and honey, we're running
          on central time.

in New York, it's only midnight.

This coffee (my second cup today)
gives me the shakes
and tastes like cold syrupy mud
I swallow it down
past my gag reflexes

out of nervousness

Sitting alone
in a coffee shop


with no one to talk to

trying to convince
myself
that



that's okay






so far, it's really not working.

this morning I was thinking about your skin

and getting lost in it,
unbounded-- had never felt like a better plan for the rest of my day

but you’re so far from me
heart and soul and mind

your spirit from mine

hearing my voice feels like damp mountains in a sunny valley of ground and sweat


and don’t you dare break my heart
I’ll light myself on fire

ten words
I simply can't
   escape you
but do I want to?

haiku
you caress my mind
delicately with soft words
    I miss your hands more

10 words
difficult to imagine
your grace and charm
wasted
               on Texas.

haiku
chairs and warm coffee
I sit obsessed with letters
your envelope, brown

10 words
I want you
to move back.
Home- be with me

haiku
I can't really press
you will make your own choices
But I stay hopeful.

10 words
maybe
someday
soon, you
will come back around this direction.

haiku*
confession of mine
I dream of your voice and hands
startled, awaken.


I've said some things
to you, in the past
in that space/time
     continuum that

have whipped me into shape

            why I thought
I could do better than
                               you

I have no idea


but I hope you dance
                    more now

      and I hope you
never lost your sweet
                            smile

Because when I can't
   sleep,      I
throw the blankets off of me,
and I think hard- imagining
a perfect relationship

                      and realize
that perfection does not exist

      but I always
think,
                     "I got pretty
close to perfect
             with you."

I keep searching for you
      Or a replacement

But there is no one
                      around
to make my heart beat
                             anymore

And so I am lifeless

                     and jealous
of your life in
                            
Texas

Just give me the
                 word, baby

We can press our lips
        together again

like that last time
                on the bench

Where you told me you
                     loved me.


So tell me

                    where the ****
                              is your love now?

I'm drowning
                            and
you are nowhere to
                   be found

off feelings
in my ankles
and my elbows and wrists

i cry tears from the spaces inbetween my fingernails
where dirt often gets
[stuck]

i am new
i am old
i am a user of birth control
vegan sandwiches
and red carnations

i am an understander of
communication skills
calendars
laundry hours

i spell correctly
i am different
i am not an *******

like everyone else

you're like a little checkbook

i pull out blanks
and write
"three, four, five kisses"


signed
*michelle

Black ruffled waves crossing,
sweeping over the crinkled eyes and the
mysteries that hide there
Childhood is remembered when one brings a comb
to the head of
this lovely excuse
for an animal
Describe it, disguise it, dye it different colors
simply to
feel
real
I spend my days dreaming of softly ruffling, slipping oily tips into the ocean of black waves
Your roots and ends are worth too much,
I should shave it all off while you sleep
and keep it in a bag to smell during days that you are absent.

And when your attic gets chilly and lonely,
I will glue it back on and we will rejoice,
won’t we?
We have no need for hats yet,
and we won’t until you are scared of dying
On sad days I want to run my hands through it
and live in your scalp
where everything
will be soft and sweet--sweat smelling
like in a cave that is never dark
or frightening

remember when this oversized sweater was something to comfort me
and when i was near it, all my tears would be absorbed by the softness
and by the skin of the sweet that wore it

and that skin
to think of it
is no longer a comfort

it is a wasteland
a place i used to get lost

and now that i am out of the desert
i have tasted water
and freedom

and i don't believe that i will ever go back into that desert

although sometimes i miss the way
the sand felt between my toes

what a
hypocritical mess
I am.                                "forget about him
                                             he's no good for you"
                                                           -i tell her

But i am hung up
                and down

hanging by a thread
                         noose
                         string

by the strings with which you
                               strung me along

a long
way from home, I
                                    walk on

an adventure for
                               one

I reminisce of when
                              we walked

all over the compass rose
                                      rising up

rising sun,
raising me up



from the dirt.

I did that.

I am the strong woman

who screams from the bottom of her lungs
from the top of stadium road


i don't need anyone


what a crock of ****

Today, I wear nothing.
I strip away the hot heavy
shoes, the tights that constrict
my airway. My underwear, lacy
and uncomfortable and unseen by
everyone but me.
My deepest darkest most sacred secret
is held down
            slipping between my legs is
my moist wet womanhood
not stopped by any obstacle
and you try to touch me there
on my pink love button,
touching it
to understand a different part
of me that you wouldn't have
been able to see otherwise.
I keep it hidden.
it comes out
when they come off


Release

my days are rooted in
              frustration and
not enough sleep.

When you leave our nest
this, every, morning
                                 I mourn
I long for you
                          The doctors
all say the same thing::

I've got 8 months

to live.



          what a long
                 winter this will
                           be.

I wish I could travel back in time
   to meet my 13 year old self
and tell that confused
                         gorgeous child
to run away.

Run away, pretty girl
run away from the boys that
are trying to use your body

Run away from that razor
run away from that bottle of pills
and do your best, use all of your will
to stop that soul from aching
without needing to bleed.

You don't have to
fix anyone.
You just have to survive.

Run away from that screaming
                  in your head.
Drown it out with poetry
                             and music
until you either
lose your hearing
or
you lose yourself
in sweet soul feeding spreading goodness

Run away from your father
                     until he learns how
                        to love you.


Run away from those girls
until you are strong enough
to realize that they're
so wrong about you.

Run away, gorgeous girl
Run away from all the
people that have hurt you

Run away from all the people that want you to fix them
Just take a deep breath and realize that you can't fix anyone but yourself

Run away from the guy who can't commit to you
Run away from that ****** up kid that wants to put his fingers inside you
Run away from that girl that calls you fat

Run away from your own ****** feelings

You're just not old enough to deal with them yet
No one should have to deal with that

Not you, you gorgeous scared little thirteen year old.

I think maybe,
      
                           just maybe
if I could tell her that

that maybe I wouldn't
                      feel so ****** up
                                  today.

because no 13 year old knows
            how to deal
                      with the things I
                                faced when I
          was 13 years old.

and no 20 year old woman knows how to fix the scars from a ****** up past, one
that has damaged this skin, damaged that ability to trust, damaged damaged damaged ****** up that ability to let somebody in, damaged this heart so much that it's forgotten how to feel, turned off those feelings because they never lead to good things, damaged the part of me that knew how to be happy. damaged the part of me that had hope. damaged and ****** it all up beyond repair.

Because I tried for years to
keep my head above water
only to realize
             that I drowned a
long time ago
                
and I think
it might be too late

to pull myself out

of this black lake
of self infliction
and pain addiction
and
give myself

a chance at living.

i love it so much
that you dance with me.
in my room, you twirl me
to Louis Armstrong, trumpets are familiar to us both
Or you sway me back
and forth
           on bridges
they lift us up


                             so high

and you wrap your large hands
tightly but gently (like you're
                                  afraid I might
                                  fly away
                                                  -I won't)

around my waist

                             and look into my
                              windows
                                                    and see
                              all the rain


                                           how I miss you
                                                         when you're gone.

i haven't written in a while because all of my poems started to sound the same

they start off with " I miss you"
and usually end that way, too.

but my birthday was yesterday

and I wasn't as sad as I thought I would be

but I am really starting to understand things better
and my world has gotten more clear.

and you

only ever added to my happiness


but
I wish we had danced more,
when we had the time.

You
were my favorite person to dance with.


But I hope
that when you fall in love with someone new,

that they dance with you
and that they love you

the way you loved me.

i never want you to know
how needy i am
                             (you will run away,
                                                   with your superfastsneakers)

But I wonder
                   if being needy
is the one thing that makes
me human. In that case,
I want you to know that I need you all the
time. And when I PUSH
you away, pull me right
back in. It's just a test.

There will be times when
I seem mad. I am.
Kiss my nose and my
cheeks. Don't let me
stay mad. Let me cry
into your button-up shirt
until it's stained
with my make-up.

I will always need you.

when i see you from far away i see you as a human

a beautiful human with your own brand, your own kind of perfection
a functioning body
hands as tools and feet as structure

and then you light up

and i scoff
and i think to myself

what a waste.

thank you.

you know me so well
and you know that my past
has been filled with a lot of mistakes

like an open umbrella sitting outside in the rainstorm,
the only thing weighing me down is the rain i've caught
without these mistakes, i'd simply blow away in the cold wind.

you know me inside and out.
we spent countless moments in each other's arms
in your warm comfort and wise words.

you made me feel amazing.


you
are
the one
person

who could truly change me.


you knew who i was.
you knew who i wanted to be

and without knowing,
you helped me become that person.


you helped me understand who i am.
i'm the girl that plays ukulele
and writes poetry
and does amazing things for women.


i don't know how my life would like if you had never walked into it
i have an idea, yes.
but i don't care to describe it here
for fear
it would upset you.


i will never be the same.
i will never ever go back to
who i was

before i met you.


and for that,

i could thank you
a million times
with cheek kisses and a lifetime of happiness

but it would never be enough.

so thank you.
**thank you for being a part of my life.

what can be done
         we live in a black box
with no airholes
                         trapped
                        suffocating
                        scared.
who's going to protect us?
who am I going to protect?

                      who  .             .               .               .          .     ?

I have one sister
                one partner
                          one best friend
                                     two parents

and a hell of a lot of pain.

      who will take this on their
        shoulders with me?

                                  and who will
shoot holes
      into this dark box?

i can't believe i didn't see what i had done to you. this
is more

this is more than just your average heartbreak.


i ****** you over,
my darling.

when did this happen...
?

                        when i wasn't looking?



i turned away from you,
focusing on my own life

           trying so hard to fix what we both know has always been broken


                                         neglecting
you\


in the process



                          oh honey

oh,
puppy.


you are so strong
and you will hold on

you will make it out of this


because i made it out of my whole life.

i somehow survived.

i slit my wrist for the first time
when i was 12

still just a kid.

i smoked *** for the first time
when i was 13.

still just a confused little kid.

i let someone put their **** in me for the first time
when i was 13

still just a ****** up confused little kid

tried to **** myself for the first time
when i was 13

still just a ****** up confused angry little kid


if i could survive that

you will survive
this.

your strength

it emanates from your gorgeous hands.
and pulses through your veins.

my mom said
that this is like someone dying.

and she's right.
because i loved you and cared for you
and i used to spend time with you

and now i can't.
because you're gone.

but the difference between this and death


is that i could make all of this pain go away

in the blink of an eye

i could make this come back alive.

i could pull you close
and whisper that i'm sorry

but it wouldn't solve anything

like a needle filled with lustlovedrugs
i could inject you into me

but it would wear off
and i would be left filled with regret

i could never use you like that.






that would be the worst thing i could do to you.
you'll find someone better for you than i was


i just wish i was that person
and i wish i knew what the **** i'm doing
when i'm not crying

We're the most ****** up poetic pieces of **** 

We grew up thinking the world hated us, regarding it as a hostile environment 
But never paying it too much attention
Never giving it a second or third thought 


And when you met me you thought i was beautiful

And when i met you i thought you were smart


And when we started falling into this ******* pit of dispair
I started to regard you as beautiful


And now your eyelashes brush against my skin as you tell me that I'm intelligent 
And interesting 



Interesting enough?
Is it a grey area?
How long can i keep this up?
How long until you figure me out


How long until you see me for what i am, who i used to be?

How long until we start hating each other


Just tell me how much time i have
So i can appreciate you

In this moment

here's the thing
about self mutilation



it kills me
slowly softly

gives me what i need


and here's the thing about self mutilation


the red neediness
the cold pane from windows

raining outside
raining inside



i'm covered in it


i'm covered in red
red covering


my red
smeared


across my eyelids

dripping from the scar tissue
and scars to be made,
this year


and next year and next year


yes.

self mutilation
how I've missed you

the nights feel so much longer
and I haven’t seen the sun in days

my skin will soon shrivel up

raisinistic features, screaming bleeding chapped lips


and I think I’ll **** that groundhog if
he says
what I
think he’ll
say


my hair will fall out
clump by clump

my gums in my mouth will become metallic and large

this winter will never end

policing my body with your jealousy

controlling the love I share
the number of friends I could have

Always judgmental, Always hiding from me

Your **** insecurities
      brought us down

and when I fell
you chained me to the
        floor


foot on my neck

         -    -    -   -   -
     DON'T
                         MOVE



*or I'll leave you

When I hear her voice
     it rings
     it sings, it soothes
like a warm fireplace
    and she smiles
like she knows all your
problems and
      more than anything
loves and understands.

This gorgeous girl
feather earrings
orange and blue fingernails
long dresses flowing

She is poetry.

She writes messily
with tender hands
that know how to
hold a pencil like a
weapon of mass
love-making.

    She creates.
She makes
She just pulls emotion
out of the air
and breathes it onto
canvas, notebook
pages,      the backs
of my hands.

She makes color
   come alive. She
is poetry.
She is poetry
  She is soul.
She is kindess
    She is color.

She is passion

I wish I could drench your pain
in peppermint
rub it onto your forehead
                            and into your heart

and soak up your coffee tears
with a warm blanket
  and hold you while you cry

I wish I could sew all of our
clothes together, so I
would always be there
when the red walls start
bleeding and creeping toward
you.
        I can't fix the
world

          but I can do a few things

         I can cook you a warm breakfast
            and dinner when you come home

I can wash our clothes
      when they get filled
with the  paint that you
       drown yourself in

I can love you
                        the way my mother loves me


because that's all I know how to do.

I could hit you
Because How can we
                        Make love
if I don't know You

You *******

                 You stranger

I'm supposed to be happy with

                 you


But you just make me

want to
               hit my skull against
the air conditioner

                    until I pass out

from loss of blood fluids


and you are so oblivious
                               to this.

this large empty bed seems like
a c r e s wide     without you here in it.
I want to hear you laugh
and taste cream cheese wontons
on your tongue.
and when we wake up, you will smell musty and sour
like our tent of *******
always smelled

         I want to hear the funny nose whistle you make
I need to clutch at your
chest and gasp

                                              beg you
                                                   for release



but for now i will lay
naked, alone
in my football field nest of pillows

and dream, sleeplessly
of your sweaty brow

so
i heard that the play “the glass menagerie”
is really an autobiography of the author
Tennessee Williams.

and woah is that a mindtrap.
if this play is an autobiography
he would have had to have
this conversation
with his mom,
then write down exactly what was said

and then
THE PLAY
would be about
Tennessee Williams writing down **** that his mom says
and not his ****** up sister
and her stupid typewriter
and alcoholic teenagers.

Maybe I didn’t really get the symbolism

i was lying awake last night
thinking about how i'm scared of being alone.

and i thought,
"being alone is just being by myself"


i'm scared of being with myself?

i'm scared of being in a room
with myself?



why?

it seemed so silly
to be afraid when i thought of it that way.


i decided i'm just going to not think about being alone.

and think more about being with myself.

I have a broken mirror
in my pocket
I carry it with me
wherever I go
(the shards cut through my jeans, stab my thigh
dyeing my pants red)

I have tried to take it
out, pick
the pieces
out of there                      

                      (it's easier to just leave it.)
I end up with only ******
fingertips, I smear   my
                    blood on the rugs
I sleep on,
                               the bed is too soft, too warm
                                                         to sleep in

I'm not used to kindness
or- - - - - even
        liking someone

                         so I become
scared, that things won't
                                              work out

and when you try to pick these
shards out of my leg,




(turning your beautiful
          fingers red&raw;)

when you try helplessly

to erase my pain

                                           I will lay on this blood-  
                                                                ­   stained



rug                              and think






Why are you doing
              

                      this
  


            for me

i watch as steam rises from my cup of coffee.


drifts
disappears

like it wasn't even there to begin with

like wisps of smoke
spiraling toward the ceiling



but this coffee tastes burnt
and i'm drinking it out of the coffee cup you gave me for my birthday



i just want to throw it across the room and
watch it splatter across these ******* ugly yellow walls

The first official day of autumn

             like we needed some excuse
       to refresh

everything is so new
                   and at the same time
old- like my grandmother

familiar until she
had her stroke
                           and became someone
                                new and unknown.

like the trees when
         the leaves die

                        and fall.

we never needed
            an excuse to refresh

we fell apart,

          sick of summer
       and the sounds of construction

we longed for a change

         and we got rid of
         each other

so that eventually,

                   the leaves would grow back

we would always default
to
                  refresh

watch each others
    leaves grow back
       and change
    and fall again

                    and
    
                           grow back

but
         how do

you watch someone

                   be happy without you?



how could i watch

      your gorgeous leaves

crawl up the wall
                of a new house

with a new person living inside of it


when i was the one



                  to make your leaves turn brown and die


when i was the one
      
                           to bring winter's frost to your forest green

I fell apart
   I fell hard to the ground
Felt myself shatter into
some large pieces
and some small ones.
too small to pick up again.
                              ****** fingers-
                                            shards of glass.
Nothing could be done.

I fell apart
               identity split between
thousands    -       millions of
things that make me up.
split between
                         daughter/feminist
                     partner/student
                       privilege/marginalization

split between
                         "it was bad for me
                       worse for you"

how does this erase

                  how much light does this
             give?
                             How much love is
                shared and exchanged

    when we fall apart

                             by choice

When the equinox is
approaching
I will know it
because the tough
leather shell around my heart
shrinks and tightens

And I look at the
leaves on the ground
and think, "how ugly"

And the brown dry cracked
dirt from where too many
feet have kicked up
the green that
was once.

I see only brown.
even the yellow is
brown

Winter is not yet here
and already
I am dreading the spring

My mind is flowing
                       with questions
and no answers
                              I don't want to
                           be trapped in this

I want to lie in the grass in a
                field,    
                              absorbing the sunlight
      and listening to my breath

                    in.      out.
                                       in.       out.



and it seems funny
        
         that some people do.

             some people are lying in
                       warm grass

or maybe on black pavement -  hot from
                 sunlight
                                     August in Missouri
                    
  sounds nice right now

i was feeling empty, lost
without you.

on days when you were far away or busy
i didn't know what to do with my free time.

i would sit and feel strange.
i would miss you;
not used to alone-ness.
never wanting to get used to alone-ness.
I was afraid of free time.
I was afraid of silence.
I was afraid of myself and the thoughts that sit in my own head.

I wanted someone to take care of me

these past few days though,

i've been finding things to occupy my time.
yes, i cry a lot.

but
last night i played music.
and i danced alone, in my room.
like i did when i was a kid.

and today, i got some work done.
i'm eating right.
i'm reading a book that i never had time for before.
i'm playing music again.

i'm taking care of myself.

and now i'm writing some poetry.

yes, i cry a lot.
yes, i miss you.


but i'm starting to be okay.
i'm learning.



i'm starting to learn who i am,
what i like to do.

i'm figuring it out.



and i'm realizing that i'm not just surviving anymore.
i'm living

and i am so glad that i'm giving myself that chance

the biggest piece of *******
is that i can't move on
with my life, until this is settled.
I can't wait to
be over you.
I can't wait for
the point in time
when I
can see you
and not feel
as angry as
I do.


I am angry

at how you

Built a wall
around yourself, keeping me out

and I tore mine down,
          

                        brick; by brick

coaxing you into feeling something

when ALL of this ****


was your idea to begin with.


Well, next time you're lonely

find another girl to stick your **** into.

find another girl to make you feel special.





*find another girl to break

it's amazing
                        that you
never notice
            how much you think
about someone
                    until
it hurts to think about
         them

and lately, my heart hurts
       every few minutes
I'm filled with confusion
and heartache

because i wasn't given an explanation
and it feels as though

you are trying to ****
yourself off in my
mind

                            but you are not dead

and you can't fool me
          into feeling
lost without you

        because i will find you again

                           if you will
                               find me.

the water is dark. we've been in this boat for a long time.
we're holding each other, shivering.

the water is dark. Black
we lie in the bottom of the boat, trying to stay warm

holes, tiny holes.
breaking through our little boat.

stand up.
water covers our toes, turn yours blue.

the boat rocks.
you are losing your balance.

the boat rocks.
you grasp at me, at the edges of our boat.

I reach for you, taking your hand.
that was close, my love.

something in the water.
the sky is dark; no stars nor moon.

"what is that?"
I don't know, love.

scared, all of a sudden.
tears, as cold as the water.

will we make it?
I don't know.

Wind blows suddenly
a wave crashes

what is happening?
I don't know.

You go.
You had to leave.

I couldn't hold on to your hand
fingers frozen

I'm sorry.
I don't know.

I tried,
I tried.

I wanted to help you.
We were in this boat together

and all of a sudden,
I had to save you

I don't know how.
I don't know.

You are sinking.
Sinking.

The boat is sinking.
Sinking.

You are gone.
Do I jump in after you?

Do I hope that you will make it?
Can I help you?

Is it too late?
I don't know.

I don't know.

If more people lived life, modeled after you
If more people lived freely
If more people expressed themselves
Without fear
   Without that crushing concept of conformity
   This world would be a better place
        A place I could be proud to be a part of
If more people took the time to open their eyes
        And break apart those hoary curtains
Of societal expectations
That smother us in their weight
And choke us in their clouds of accumulated dust
This world would be a better place
You bring so much to this world
Each
                                            moment
     you share
     with us

your eyes
were big blue water pools

last night.


i was so happy-
                         ****** up-
                                      weak-
                         strong -
                                confused-
                                        empty-
                                                         cold-
                                                                            shaking-
                                                                                                       wanting

wanting to kiss you
happy to fix you

****** up in my own head
weak alone in my bed

strong here without you
confused about what to do

empty
because you're not here

cold
because you're not here.

shaking from this panic attack
wanting
to put that gun in my mouth

and pull the trigger





bang.

i used to slide razors across my skin
and watch the blood run
down my fingertips


i used to steal things from drug stores
and laugh at retards


I used to pull my cat by the tail
until she ran away
and i got so heartsick
i cried on the front stoop
calling her name, begging her to come back.



i used to hate children
and i made money babysitting.

set the kids in front of the TV
and raid the kitchen.
I'm serious. I used to do that.


I used to be proud
when i told people i was an atheist
and

i hated God

and I used to think


He hated me


too.