I turn from this once known certainty,
Free from the burden of love,
Hoping this world will have me -
May I become what was meant to be.

I think maybe
I loved you a
little bit. I knew
it then but never
told you. That's
okay, though,
because I think
you loved me a
little bit, too, and
never told me,
either.

Sprawled out across his back.
Contouring the bean bag chair into something shapely beautiful.
Knees expelled in opposite directions,
Expelling my imagination into a furious sea of frenzy.
Silence.
Except for the constant clicking of the video-game controller.
The constant flicking of his fingers soon lead my imagination
Elsewhere.
The traffic-jam of words inside of me soon slip uncontrollably to thoughts
As I sit behind him.
My heat undecoded.
Legs crossed, just as a lady should.
Girls from all over must tell him he's beautiful.
But beauty in itself is a limitation.
I'm not sure if he is aware that he is beyond
The liberal definition.
I find myself soon forgetting the awkward of the situation,
Instead savoring the surreal reality of such a moment.
"Are you winning?" I shortly ask him, breaking the heavy incredible silence.
But I had to know.
He can miss as many goals as he likes. Laugh it off.
Because inside of me he's scoring.

I often wonder what stars look like during daylight.  Understandably, that seems contradictory, seeing as daylight is cast from a star.  This isn’t starting out so well.... Just.. Hear me out on this one.... Alright, let’s start again.  I often wonder what stars looking like during daylight.  Do the spread life-giving rays toward deep space or is that just the ignorant optimist speaking too quickly?  I tend to speak first, question later, Standard american wisdom, does anyone else think it’s cool that the hottest stars are actually blue?  Blue... Like the eyes of pretty girls on TV,  Blue, like the first T-shirt my second love told me I looked good in, for a third time.  Blue... Like... Blue’s Clues?  So far, not so good.  I’ll apologize to the audience right now, It’s been some time since I’ve written, Feeling like a typewriter collecting 50 years of dust, my words are quite antiquated. Now... Where were we?  Right! The stars!  They scream to me, words, I only wish I could understand.  I can hear the right side of the sky when the wind calms, and clouds disappear.  “ gaze upon us, let’s fill your emptyness, enjoy the abundance of mysteries sent through your squinted eyes and released from your over-bearing shout.
Hey now, I don’t know about you, that sounded pretty good.  Definitely going to keep that in here.  I think I’m unraveling the mystery, The stars are magicians.  A bit of sleight of hand, now you see me... Now, only they see me.  I finally understand why the ends of stars are pointed, it’s the edge of their wands.  Cascading star dust over what they see fit, I remember being told humans are made of such a thing.  If truth is spoken from these lips, Color me blue, I wish to be the hottest thing in the sky.  Sadly, I’ll be an infrared Super giant, just wasting up space.  Maybe I’m not to know why I can’t see the stars.  I’m not meant to know the mysteries, after all, a good magician never reveals his tricks.  Tonight I’ll look up towards them, infinity between us, I’ll speak to them;         I still can’t see you during daylight.  I can’t hear the left side of the sky, it’s whispers  clouded by Andromeda. However, this stellar disappearing act has allowed one piece of light to shine through the cloud cover and dust I’ve collected.  They’ve helped me finish the poem.

my skin tingles, overstimulated by the harmless cotton sheets
my stomach leaps, awakened to the enfolding silk of your skin
we flit in and out of consciousness
like drunken butterflies
my head pounds
I realize
the lamplight
the golden haze of "last night"
swirls of a memory
of ecstasy and an oil black record turning
and stopping
and my hand
reaching to flip it over
only to halt, relax, and slip down the nightstand
I strain my eyelids
remembering the forsaken B-side
every muscle aches
every inch of my flesh is spread with warmth
I reach for you
like I reached for the satin vinyl
but like last night
my hand slips into air
the potency of the illusion, the sensory explosion, the ache of losing
cling to my cold sweat in a bittersweet perfume
in the waking hour

so love,

you left me hanging after all

There should be a special place in hell for mothers who don’t love, respect, and support their sons
I know things won’t always be perfect but the least you can do is care
I hope someday within those loud, echoing words of disappointment, those angry cries of doubt - over the next thing you think he has failed you for - leaving him to put his head in his hands wondering if he’s good enough for you, that you see the words hidden in his face, etched upon his skin
“I’m doing this for you mom”
Because what am I supposed to say as he lays his head on my shoulder with tears in his eyes saying to me “I don’t want to go home anymore”
When he thinks that you don’t love him because all you end up showing is hate
Am I supposed to say that's okay?
This is the son who said all he was worth was a marine uniform and a way to die just to make. you. proud.
Anger is no answer and if your boiling point is 212 degrees you’ll go 213 just to prove your hatred
You know you could break his heart with a pinprick yet you still go so far
And all I can do is hope next time you raise your hand against him you see in his eyes the words he’s tried over and over again to scream to you

“I’m just doing this for you mom”

i love the sea because
she is honest.
when she is angry,
she's wild:
waves of emotion carelessly tossing
boats and sailors around as
a warning not to mess with her.
but when it's quiet
and everything is still,
she is so calm and
so beautiful that
it's hard not to fall in love
with the sound of her waves
gingerly kissing the shore.

in a way, i consider you
to be my own personal sea.
you pull people into you,
only to push them away and
you have so much depth that
nobody has ever really seen.
but i have dived down deep enough
to learn that you cry during
most disney movies and that you
like the smell of my perfume and
it's hard not to fall in love
with the way your lips feel
against mine.