Not even the vines
that come creeping through
the cracks in my cabin
Not even the dreams
that come as omens
or the weeds that have grown taller than me
I consider it all irrelevant until I'm threatened
Where have I learned this selfishness?
Where has my awareness gone?

The spoils of our labor
turn heavy in the heart
and light in your arms

I hate this feeling of not quite ready to leave
having an ever present flight date
and that it only rained once while I was here
but that it will rain next week when I’m gone
I thought California held magical promises
of summertime gardens fruitful to the point of exhaustion
and reckless freedom
but the only thing I found here was a truth I didn’t want to hear
that I’m lighting the candles and playing the records
I’ve created everything I love inside my head
that doesn’t mean its not real
just that I’ve wasted a lot of days blaming the sun for being too bright.

I think you’re

apple blossom

kissing salty ocean rocks

and thunder drills

The way golden lyrics flow not from lips but strings

and tie up souls

It gives hope to a long forgotten place that once held the promise of sanctuary

new life

and a fresh start in the land of granite rocks, kiss

miss

home.

A temporary home in your arms

and I think I’ll be alright if you just stay here.

Just keep your hand closed on my back and I’ll choke down whatever comes up

I’ll be okay for one more night because

captured rhythms

beat down whatever grief was scheduled for tonight.

All of the lines started to blur together
Summer, complicated passed without guidance
one twinge of a special river rushed inside,
breaking bones,
tearing up any sense of self I once knew packed in wood stoves and bird walks
There is no discovery in purpose.
Progress is made by going without knowing why
You are not found in schoolbooks
Your muscles were not built upon hopeful, “one day”
You build your own self in hazards and nimble choice
You’ll find a way to heal broken skin
And your terrified eyes will only build more muscles for smiling

If you’re driving home from a friends house
in twilight and soggy muscles
I hope you’re rolling down your windows
For fresh air
And the way it widens your eyes
To pines beyond the roadside
Freeing the world to hear Matlida

Home in 10 minutes
But for ten minutes you are free
To appreciate windy road, solitude,
And what was given in summer nostalgia
Contented

I am white dresses and floral lace
Hair in bows
The rest displayed as roses
I dance as I walk
Describe me as dainty and cute
Invite me to your garden parties and front porch tea time

Just so I can show up in reality, burnt out.
18 years of small scars from big adventures
Bones already creaking under the weight of my own privilege
And I have always wished to be something attainable
Simple and pastoral  

I’ve decorated my world in bundles of lavender
They hang next to paintings of flowers and handwritten letters
I dream of sheep and fields of farmland  
But my lovely is fading fast and I have not created something to be proud of in quite some time