on the school bus
the expansive blue sky
watching the leaves
flutter and fly

resting my head
on your shoulder
feeling the air
grow slightly colder

i pull a leaf
out from my sleeve
it's all so perfect
i can't believe

the day is over
i'm going home
at least for the weekend
i'll be alone

so i tried my hardest
to remember it all
that magical day
in the middle of fall

maybe that is why
i remember it still
whenever the air
picks up a little chill

i can smell apple juice
pumpkins and hay
i can still feel
pink boots caked in clay

under my bed
a collection of things
snippets of ribbon
and tangles of string

old scuffed buttons
teddy bear eyes
shriveled up flowers
left to die

a bird skull i cleaned
with my hands in the sink
old perfume bottles
so shiny and pink

a lost love letter
not addressed to me
shards of glass
spit up by the sea

a lock of my hair
from before it turned dark
a cicada shell
i found in the park

i can't bring myself
to throw them away
even though it's junk
like you always say

i know how it feels
being unwanted and worn
i want nothing to feel
so forgotten and forlorn.

i was little
only three
hiding behind
the cedar tree
she was trying
to beat me
a little child
of only three

that tree is gone
we cut it down
bugs ate it
from root to crown
playing under it
in a princess gown
the memories
can now be found

and every single
time it rains
mushrooms sprout
from its old veins
i wonder if she
still feels pain?
i wonder if
we feel the same?

bike spokes
and chalkdust
and sunsets
and street lights
and
being careful of how you sit
can't show those bruises
can't get mud on my dress
or there will be more
i can't i can't
i'm too scared
the chalk will be thrown out
and the bike will rust
but the laughter remains
just outside my window
but they bound me
like a straitjacket
i'm not insane i promise
do you still want to be my friend?

what is it
about me
that makes people
want to hurt me?
can they smell the blood
like a pack of sharks?
no matter how many times
i sew myself back together
my wounds still weep and wail
"easy prey."
docile as a puppy,
weaker than a fawn,
stupid as a child.

everyone writes about nature
they want to hear the birds
and weave a story like a flower crown
watch the sun as it goes down

but i can't stop writing about houses,
old and tired, new and perfect
the horrible things that they have seen
the sickly air hanging in between

the moon will always be here
and i thank her for that
these places will crumble and mold
and i am thankful for that

one day one day i can be
a flower or a star or a fawn
after i scrub the repeating
repeating memories out of my carpet

spare the rod
and spoil the child
yes i've been spoiled
you weren't mild

as a bruised peach
begins to rot
why wouldn't a child?
have you forgot?

now i have no more
cheeks to turn
what you did
makes my stomach churn

i know god
will condemn me to hell
even a sinner like me
can tell.

but i fear hell
less than i fear you,
it will be better than what
you put me through.

so i am free,
i am unbound
now that i know
i'm going to the ground

i'll take my time
to make you pay
and you will never
forget the day

this fallen angel's
wings were ripped
this little saint's
halo slipped.