i said i wouldn’t write about
anxiety
told myself that it was over
tucked in the treasure chest
and threw the key
in to outer space
because i just wanted
to make some
******* space
told myself that anxiety belongs on a
planet of pure
vacancy
vast open with a welcome mat that
says
welcome
but its funny
because i never said thank you
in the first place
allowed my tree trunk to split open
and let you water the roots inside me
because i told myself i would grow
when you turned on the water hose
my roots shot up
they were thirsty
this was always the scary part
never wanted my roots to grow leaves
to plant seeds
at least
not for a while
i take daily trips
tripping over the cucumbers and watermelons in the garden
hoping to find someone to tell me
what’s wrong with me
tell me why i keep finding bruises
because she thinks it’s low blood sugar
tells me to stick my arm in the
cylinder of results
glued down in all pharmacies
i tell her this pharmaceutical ******* has got to go
i ask the chrysanthemums
how come when i drive my body shakes
and i can feel my foot on the peddle wobbling
no one in the car feels it but me
the gas peddle keeps jumping under my feet like a jack in a box
told it to chill the **** out
this isn’t a nursery
this is 2am showers to rinse the hate of the world off of my body
or the fake hate for you
fruits of eden dangling like
ornaments
on a burning christmas tree
i am the burning christmas tree
people decorating me with jesus popsicle sticks
hiding all of me with glass shaped memories
my sticky branches and pine scent has never been enough
welcomed you home with aroma
as strong as
your hands during bickering
i lit the mohnagny teakwood candle
watched the hot wax spill
and melt a mount
on the dinner table
figured why not make this a forest fire
of truth
burn all the lies
while my carmel skin clings to
my brittle bones trying to
keep them warm as i
continue to shake
in the timeout corner
but then i remember i said
i wouldn’t write about
anxiety

lately at night i have
felt so close to the moon
but not close meaning distance
but close meaning
the moon is sending me on a mission
of ceasing mourning it’s taking me
to a universe i always
begged to live on
i mean the moon has me under its
spell
an aura of another soul
they feel incredibly heavy
their emotions melting into my skin
a teenage heart can only hold so much
pain
the moon is sending me on a mission
to test the winds strength
to blow my mind to a far away place
more unique than outer space
i am astronaut
locked and vacant
this place is forever sacred
this is where the memories were vacuumed into a black hole
i can finally feel my refreshed soul
my mouth open
my lips a small canal
ready for mother nature’s
water to slither through and set sail
a body of hope
eager for coconut oils to smooth the edges of the broken fold
the moon is sending me on a mission
and maybe it’s not for me to rebuild my world
but
i do want to start over
allow the atmosphere of outer space be my admirer
make it my safe place
the moon
circumference wide like the opportunities
filling cylinders with mace
sun glazin on my skin
this mission
was so
zen

a note for you
written by
me
when i talked to you i wasn’t
trying to hurt you
i was trying to tell you that i’m hurting so bad
i forget that lying in a grave is sad

why do we choose people
who make us feel anything but
whole
i am sugar crumb cookies
always left on the table
no one has ever wanted me
he has never been satisfied
he is a carnivore
always wanting more
hungry for the flesh of everyone
his appetite rockets when i’m not there
he cannot get enough sugar crumbs
he wants more
he wants all the crumbs even when they aren’t mine to offer
i am bent nails
patched hair
i cannot stop pulling my hair out
i am finger nail scrapes down my legs
he is angry
but not as angry as me
no one will know what this rage is
so let me ask you again
why do we choose people
who make us feel anything but
whole
because we allow them to let us feel anything but
whole
we think that feeling like our lungs are going to
collapse because we can’t catch our breath
is okay because we are used to it
but i’m sick and tired of finding crumbs that aren’t mine
i stand up and get the wobbling in my knees to stop
i grab the glass cookie jar and throw it on the ground
i think of leaving you a note on the counter
but i know you’ll forget
because you’ll be too busy
licking up all the sugar crumbs
that aren’t
mine

his scalp
is stitched
with the odor
of shampoo
and
***** secrets
and god
i have never
wanted to wash
my
hair more

the girl after will be
a bootlegged version
of me
she will never taste
like me and
i hope she writes
you poetry but we all know
her metaphors will never
erase the ones
i left stained on your lips

the caramel skinned girl
looked at
the brown sugar skinned boy
and said this here baby
this isn’t just a watch
this is a promise
this is me promising to
count down every minute
with you
this is promising you that
one day we will stand
at an alter
exchanging rings and vowes
and most of all exchanging
unconditional love
pablo you’re different
you’re what i’ve been
waiting for but could
never really describe
because let’s face it
it’s pretty hard to describe
perfection until you’ve met it
and on may 22nd
i met perfection
sick raspy voice and all
and i still fell for you
i’m still falling for you
everyday
this time teller
that’s clings to your wrist
represents that i will
always cling to your wrist
that i will always be there
to remind you how much
i love you
that this soul cries out at night for
her brown sugar skin metaphor
that this body always wants
to feel your hands
and your lips forever
we are going to be together
forever
the caramel skinned girl
looked at
the brown sugar skinned boy
and said this here baby
this is eternal love

i don't even know how to be sad anymore.
all i know is rage.
i know red knuckles burning because
i had to punch the kid in yellow jacket
hands
to melt the rage off of my soul
i just don’t want an angry soul
take my soul
i thought yellow was happy color.
i shouldn't have taken it out on him.
this is fingers tingling.
the bented M on the BMW sign
on my stirring shell
makes me where my anger with pride.
i shouldn't be proud that my fist got stronger.
the crack i made in the mirror in my car looks like the cracks in my rattling bones, that keep digging in the dirt in the graveyard.
why am i obsessed with
skeletons.
broken bodies and souls
need help too.
all of my cancerous thoughts
are molded to
each edge of my
gooey brain.
spilling out of my
temples making the
bottle of excedrin
open
too often

my mama always told me i would be just like her
and for some of you that's an honor
but my mama was different
oh baby you look just like your daddy
cool i look a felon
i see your attitude Niesha
it's just like mine
mama i don't want this rage
i don't want to be called your "white girl"
i didn't mean it like that Niesha
what i meant was you act "white"
mama i didn't know using manners
were the qualifications of a "white girl"
i didn't know 7 year old hands were meant to change diapers
and cook ramen
on the stove
mama what if i burn myself
draining the water
Niesha i don't know who
you're raising your voice at
this isn't your
grandmas house
no mama
i didn't mean it like that
please don't get the belt
don't cry Niesha
ill do it again
betty boop comforters
covering the welts of the
"white girl"
but i knew i needed to cover
my sister
two twin beds pushed together
separated by gray stained sheets
here Charlaye
this blanket is for you baby
Niesha get the kids ready for school
you're gonna be late
Officially Missing You by Tamia
blares in our ebony scented home
she told me never to bring ivory
in the house
mama i can’t help it
can i have braids like the other girls
Niesha you aren’t black
no mama i just want braids
i didn’t know only black girls could have braids
mama i thought i was black
flash forward
9 year old girl
woken by police sirens
man do i love the
colors
red and blue
mama they don’t have a warrant
don’t let them in
flashlights burning me and my sisters eyes
where’s the man that beat your mama
mama are you okay
her front teeth missing
now filled with a golden grill
he will never steal from us again
“white girl”
are you okay mama
Niesha get out of my face
i just wanted to see if you were okay mama
go outside and play with your cousins
no mama i don’t like them
don’t you say no to me Niesha
9 year old body bordered with bruises from boys with my blood
DONT TOUCH ME THERE TIQUECE
i didn’t know your 13 year old
hands were meant to touch
the hidden secrets under
my little pony *******
it’s okay Nie Nie
they do this in the movies
TY I don’t want to be
an actress
in your movie
DONT TOUCH ME THERE
TIQUECE
my mama always told me i would be just like her
mama i don’t wanna have an ultrasound on my swollen belly at age 15
i don’t want to spend my 16th
birthday in a mortant plate hospital room
filled with “it’s a girl” birthday balloons
but guess what mama this
“white girl”
made it past April 8th 2016
and i blew out my own
birthday candles and i wasn’t in
a hospital room.

you know it's bad when your boyfriend says good job after the rice from the crooked crock *** slips off the silver spoon into your cotton mouth
brushing my teeth over and over
to let the mint overlap the guilt
when you can feel your insides becoming one because they can't stop eating eachother
when cuticles crack
when nails are no longer nails
but nubs
when the once thick curly hair
is now patches lying on the bathroom floor
satisfaction isn't even real to me anymore
i don't the difference between
sweet and savory
because all i can think about is the clanking of silver spoons
leading to acidic
bathroom visits
it's a feeling of relief when
my belly is empty
and the only thing
i can feel is the cool water
slipping into a
well of mistfortune
the panic attacks are real
and at their worse.  
i've never felt this way before
i know i'm depressed that's been
scribbled down on the therapists
paper for years now
but this
this here is a different feeling
this is rage
this is digging my nails
into my carmel skin at 4am
because the razor
is too far away
i cant count the number of times
i've carved a 4 into my legs
it's gotten bad
he's pulling my hands away from my hands so i can't pinch them anymore
but baby i cant stop
i'm just gonna pinch
your hands
this isn’t a panic attack
this is called i can't control myself
this is pulling patches of hair out
because physical pain feels 100 times better than the heaving in my chest

why are you here?
because im afraid of myself.
rage swoons through my soul echoing like my heartbeat.
why am i so angry?
red knuckles disturb the peace.
salty blood stained slices through my fingers is just one way
to clam the anxiety.
what the **** is trust?
i can't find it
all i see
is fuzzy clouds filled with names of girls i don't want to know
shouldn't i want to know
my mind is filled with vines of sickening vibes
patricia told me to go to my happy place
but it's too hard to get there
i feel like i'm running an eternal race
making me hate eternity
i try to travel back to citadel childhood nostalgia
but even that's scary when all you remember is being alone
i'm still alone
and you're here
and i'm there
and i want to be here  
but not like a flickering candle
lightening and unlighting the room
i want to be constant
i want to be the sun and the moon
because then ill be with you every moment of the day
and all of my hopes and dream will spark in the sky
with the glistening stars
exploding glitter fairytales
the wishes of a dead girl
in a grave with the too many forgotten bodies
i want to feel alive again
to pull my soul out from under the roots of this acidic sunken city
i don't want to feel this pain
and that's when i saw her
i didn't even think twice about pressing the gas
to see her bleach hair come out of her roots
and the glow from her highlight that's she thinks is foundation melt off her skin
to just watch someone feel the nightmares i have every night
to just say
**** it

a healthy relationship is not feeling like an ingredient you're not an add on into the measuring cup you're the final meal. the what he should've been waiting for the whole time. you're the scent from the oven that is so warm you feel like you're the sun. you're the sun. you're an endless glow a radiance burning every ounce of negativity. love is when you don't want to go places without them. it's seeing the world together. it's the pain you feel when you aren't together. it's the heaving in your chest when you leave their house at night because god walking out of the green door of apartment 16 feels like you're sloshing through the misty graveyard filled with forgotten skeletons rattling their fingers in the unfertilized soil praying the ghost of harmony shovels them out of the polluted flowered dirt. it's because i love you that my journal is filled with endless metaphors for you. it's no sleep without a goodnight kiss. it's going to our favorite diner every friday. it's filling your bedroom with tye dye balloons as a pre birthday surprise. it's the feeling of worth when you tell me that i'm going to change the world. that my poetry will take me out of this forsaken city. don't you get it? you are all i have. you're the soil that my flower stem dances on. you're the sun and without photosynthesis my flowers would never grow. i've buried myself in you. i gave you my days that i cannot take back. i gave you time that cannot be rest. i gave you red lipped kisses that cannot be unstained. i gave you my poetry that cannot be unwritten. god i would never wish for your brown sugar skin to be unwritten. i keep giving and giving and realizing that i will never ask for anything back. and when the earth has decided it's my time to go and the roots are dragged from underneath me i want you to write to my eulogy. because i love you, i could never imagine writing yours.

i've let the empty hallow of trust scream with lies confronting the empty side of my bed but for some reason we are always in your bed. self worth isn't even real to me i loss that back in 9th grade, it starts when someone recognizes you when they tuck forgotten secrets behind your ears because they want to make you feel good for a moment they want you to feel special they what you to give them something special. and when you get off of your knees and wipe the leftovers of carpet duss out of the ridged burn in your legs the once charming soul drops you and you fall like a loose beaded friendship bracelet and the pinks yellows greens blue oranges and purples are scattered on the floor lying in salty stained puddles from last night that's when it leaves you. that's when self respect creeps it's way out of the back door and tosses the key into a forest of death. i've searched for it. but i can't find it i don't want to find it shouldn't i want to find it. when hands caress your scalp and lips whisper i love you more and phones buzz filled with emoticon script and it's not from you. you walk out the back door. you leave it open and tear down doors of time.  picking up dewy leaves hoping that there shine is really the silver key to green door of apartment 16. i'm ready to find my self worth. i'm ready to pull the lump out of my throat and kiss this bruise goodnight i'm ready to dive into my poetry the way you dived into me like a four course meal. there will be no forks at this party, no napkins to wipe the leftovers off your lips, no drink to wash away the taste of emptiness. you need to feel it you need to know what it's like to sit at the diner on main street alone and drink two mugs of hot chocolate while checking find my friends. no i'm not crazy but you've given me ever right to be. i've buried myself in you. i gave you days that i cannot take back i gave you time that cannot be reset  i gave you red lipped kisses that cannot be unstained, i gave you my poetry, your new wrestling shoes valued at the price of $180, i gave you my nights and i gave you my goodmornings. all i did was give and you kept taking and didn't even realize i was giving. it didn't take me long to notice but i stayed **** it i stayed because you and me were supposed to be something we are supposed to go places and the only place i see myself going is to the psychiatric because the pill bottle keeps rattling in my hands and i'm finally strong enough to pop the lid off. i'm strong enough to let 57 capsules slide down my pink tough in strong enough to swallow the pain and once i swallow there will be no more pain. there will be no more lonely dinner visits, no poetry, no wrestling shoes, no goodmorning texts, no more chattering teeth, no studering knee claps, no clanking of silver forks, no paper cuts from clean napkins  because i've lossed everything. i can't give no more. and you can't take nothing from me except the wooden chair who's legs dig in to the green grass where my casket lies.

it's 1am i shattered
i'm loosing parts of me i didn't know existed
my chest feels empty and bruised
my stomach is no longer a stomach
but a concave hole
filled with catipllars crawling around beginning to form a cocoon of anxiety

i'm sorry that my mom and you didn't work out
i'm sorry that mayias mom and you didn't work out
i'm sorry that paul's mom and you worked out
i'm sorry that i couldn't  give you friday night lights like he did.
i'm sorry i was born in 2000 because you missed more days with me than you did with them.
i'm sorry that sounded selfish
i'm sorry that you thought buying me books was better than actually reading them to me
i'm sorry grandma had to do the ***** work for you
i'm sorry that you thought money would be the only way to help her
i'm sorry if you think you've done more for me than her
i'm sorry that 1782 patricia avenue wasn't the ideal household for you
i'm sorry that the coffee color coated sofa  will never mount up to the scent of her bedsheets
i'm sorry that i don't attend the family vacations every weekend to riverview
i'm sorry your last name isn't on her little girls birth certificate considering she calls you daddy like your the only man she knows
i'm sorry she didn't get close with her real dad, i guess i can empathize with her
i'm sorry you missed my first day of kindergarten i would've loved to show you my teacher but she's in the grave now rest in peace ms. rossy
i'm sorry that when you got out i didn't recognize you as i sat on the creeky wooden swing with grandma it's just hard wanting to wrap your arms around a man you never knew
i'm sorry that i remember the long weekends spent at the mayo correctional institution than the long weekends we spent together in dunedin. oh that's right we never spent time together. but we spent money.
i'm sorry that when i heard your dad will pick you up from school the once missing two front teeth cute smile turned into a frown that began to sink into the ground
i'm sorry but being parked in front of the "spot" for two hours made me rather do my homework but my fingers began to shake as the ac blasted creeping its way into every opening of my applebottom clothing
im sorry that mary jane took the spot between your curled lips as she lighted up her smoky fire crisped in your lungs and crinkled your brain cells. who do i kiss good night, if your lips are occupied by rolled paper.
i'm sorry that mayia and i can't give you saturday morning haircuts at the shop like paul
i'm sorry paul don't think i'm mad at you. it's not you. it's never been you.
i'm sorry this face wears rage like an accessory
i'm sorry that you think yelling at mayia is okay. DAD that girl loves you so much she just wants you to pay attention to her. her mom won't give it to her. this little girl shines like christmas lights that i love to hang. she is the brightest thing in our room.
i'm sorry you couldn't see that your second child is giving you a second chance
i'm sorry grandma mayia and i can't give you the world like paul and tika
i'm sorry holly left because i really need her to be the mediator right now
i'm sorry that i thought you could help me with sort laundry i thought it was less work than scrubbing her ***** dishes as your hands pruned in your sickening silver soapy water, but i guess you like working for her
i'm sorry that we never got to have a relationship
i'm sorry it's too late i'm leaving soon
i'm sorry i have to get out of here pinellas county has filled me with a monotonous life style
i'm sorry but it's time to say goodbye to emptiness
i'm sorry that this family has felt broken since april 8th 2000. i guess birthday wishes don't come true
i'm so sorry that i haven't been able to string my broken english together to share this with you until now
i'm sorry you're probably upset and telling me how wrong i am but feelings aren't wrong they are emotions that i've been absorbed in and they are becoming oh so real for you now. take it in. take in the pain i've felt for 17 years. take in the faith i have in you that you can change. take in the love i still have for you. take in the broken heart that's been thrown on the ground way to many times
i'm sorry that i'm not perfect but who would want to be that's overrated
i'm sorry i wish i could've painted you a mural of mend
i'm sorry but mayia and i tried hard to fix things
i'm sorry but she's too scared to tell you she doesn't want to be dragged across the courtney camble after your late shifts on friday nights and maybe she does but it doesn't add up with her messages begging her me to come pick her up. mayia if you want to stay with them that's fine baby. i'm not mad at you. i won't ever be mad at you. i'm mad because even after the struggle with your mom toe let you see us he still ignores you because it seems like he rather have tikas body wrapped around his tatted arms than yours.
i'm sorry paul gave you more than we could ever offer we thought our soccer games could keep you around but then he started playing too. i thought my poetry would fix things but after this poem you're gonna hurt too
im sorry if you thought that was my intention. it's not. it's for you to realize that you have two daughters too
i'm so sorry mayia and i were never good enough for you.

today i listen to "Switzerland" by daughter. the soothing hums of her voice melt my soul. i'm dreaming of sitting on a yellow porch wrapped around the home i want to own. i sip green tea as a fall in love with you. today i learn to not let hands hold hands but to let hands hold hearts. to let fingers intertwine with feelings. today i learn to kiss birthmarks goodmorning. and to kiss bruises goodnight. today i let you put me in the bathtub let the warm water make waves that crash on my skin. let you lather me in big blue bubbles of hope. today i pray the hope bubbles never pop. not because i want them to pop tomorrow but because you told me to live in the present not the future. i hope to buy you a present in the future. today i eat fruit loops because your tastebuds love sugar. and i hope the next time we kiss i'll taste like the sweetest sugar you know. today i throw aveda smoothing infusion in my damp hair and scrunch it around until i've crinkled every crisp perfectly. today i brush my teeth with crest whitening toothpaste. let the bristles capture every leftover crumb of those crispy colorful circles. today i slip on my denim black skirt with rips and pull the black abbey road tank top over my head and tie the once white laces on my black high top vans.  i brush a light gold eyeshadow over my fatigued carmel eyelids and swipe mascara on each of my lashes, i put my cartilage piercing in, then my two ear piercings and i hook my black hoop into my nose. today i don't dress for you. today i dress for me because i'm starting to want to maybe try loving myself again. i have so much love bundled in big brown blankets ready to be pulled off. i've given all of my love to you because i stopped loving myself. but today you made me want to try wanting to love myself again. today i feel more like a person than a speckle of dust. today i don't see myself as leftovers in the fridge. today i see myself as a fresh cooked meal i want to eat. today i walk out of the front door. hair half up half down, back straight, teeth shining, eyes glowing, tears streaming down my face because it's pretty freaking crazy when you want to live again. today i am not a ray of sun. today i am the sun and i hope to brighten my heart with a dose of pure vitamin D. today i wear a colorful crystal crown because victoria always told me she didn't care who i was but i was a *******  queen. today i place a vase on my kitchen table filled with sunflowers and daisies because roses are overrated. today i gather up all of the scraps of rage and sadness and build myself a castle of poetry. today i listen to "Switzerland" by daughter. the soothing hums of her voice melt my soul. im sitting on the yellow porch wrapped around the home i own. i sip green tea as i fall in love with you all over again.

i've always waited for you
i'm still waiting for you
not my eyes but my heart
searches for you in dark hallway's
because you are the only one who makes me feel safe
i've been undercover for a while now
hiding parts of me
that you soon unraveled
just the thought of you
feeds my soul
your language
fuels my brain
your first kiss planted my seed
you are helping me bloom every day
you are sunlight
and
i am rain
we fit hand-in-hand
your voice deep like the ocean
your touch soft like sand
I am your sand
I am the weather down rocks and
minerals crumbling to make your sand
I came to you
arms hanging
legs limp
lips crinkled
eyes puffy
heart broken
you took me in full embrace
you didn't mend me
you melted me
baby I feel warm
you are the best thing in every room
you are poetry I love to write

water swirls in the bottom of my belly. my words grow legs and dance on my tongue and begin spilling out of my mouth only leaving an echo because you didn't respond. i let you take pieces of me i didnt know i had.  i am a dice you role every morning on a game board. wether the number is 1,2,3,4,5,6 they all still stand for "hurt her". rip her heart out and throw it on the ground. pick it up. drop it again. kick it. and she'll pick it up the next morning. and ill hurt her again. ill hurt again. ill do it again. if you leave. hold me tight one more time. stamp your kisses on every inch of me. ill leave the music on to swallow the silence. ill leave the door open wide. just in case you come back. just in case i can't open the door again. my limbs are limp. my head is swarming with bumble bees. their buzz sounds just like your ring when you text me. i let the bees in because lets face it my heart still jumps out of its cage and walks around looking for you. i hear the creek on the 4th step of the staircase and my speakers blare "wait" by M83, praying you turn around. i begin to go places that remind me of you. this is the type of pain that feels nice. this is the type of pain that i'm already feeling and you haven't even left yet. you're my daily dose of psuedo happy pills. you're 4am thoughts that itch at my scalp, begging to be written down. i am kitchen utensils. used daily. but left in the sink until someone else comes to wash me off. until someone else comes to ask if i am okay. until i come and throw the dice away. ill still be a game you'll always want to play because you have me figured out. you know all the corners to cut. all the cards to take from the pile and hide until the very end. until then i'm just a list of untils. and that will be the end of me. until.

i watched a movie. i felt empty. no i feel empty. i am empty. i'm not going to say there's a hole in my heart or pit in my stomach. because my heart isn't my heart and my stomach isn't my stomach. i think it's someone else's. have you ever seen a confused a dream with life? or stolen something when you had the cash? have you ever been blue? or thought your train moving while sitting still?  i was interrupted with the voice and emotions of someone i don't want to be. i lost myself in the emptiness of the own little world i tried to create. i couldn't keep it up. the wood of my so called home was soaked, but not from the rain. the salty water wasn't a good combination and my home began to weary down. there would be no drying. there  was no sun where i lived. my home collapsed. but my home wasn't my home it was my heart. no it was someone else heart.  a heart i tried to mend with some classic jack johnson tunes. the heart pounded the sounds of "this **** isn't going to work" these vibrations of music you want me to feel isn't enough you have to start over

do you know what it's like to have a pit in your heart? i can feel it right now i can hear gymnopiede playing in the back ground filling me with a sanity but not enough remember what Rupi said " it was when i stopped searching for home within others and lifted the foundations of home within myself i found there are no roots more intimate than those between a mind and body that have decided to be whole" but instead i fall in love w the little things that i mold into big things to make myself feel important. when people see that i'm stressed and deprived of sleep and love i feel significant to their daily lives.
i want to be the rose in the garden that everyone wants to tend so they can revive the gold medal for the best green thumb. i want to be the bookmark of every bibliophile on the planet but little do they know that rose wants to die that's rose has thorns inside poking her every hope. rose hopes for love but not just any love. rose hopes that a dandelion will come who will be intelligent enough to pull the thorns out and so beautiful she will gasp for another breath just to see their petals. on weekends rose absorbs enough sunlight to get up for work. she tends to the clothing at the retail stop at the local mall and as she folds the endless piles of destroyed denim she admires the many flowers that tend to one another.she can smell the scent of the flickering candles upstairs and she makes her way up to the candle shop on her break she never sets foot inside, she worries the flicker of the flame will catch her petals. rose doesn't want to be alone when it happens she wants a dandelion to come and save her from the flame she wants dandelion to roar as loud as he can and blow the flame out. and be there ready to sweep rose off her stem. rose wants everyone to be happy she try's her hardest to make sure her garden has enough light and water and that everyone's petals aren't frowning. rose has tried too hard she ends up being the loneliness one her garden. she returns to her shop after break she goes back to folding the same endless pile of denim and she admires the buttercup walking with the california poppy looking at the lights hanging from the ceiling. the dutch iris and the crocus intertwining their petals. honesty and honeysuckle are pursing the petals together under the mistletoe. rose gathers her tools and makes her way to her wheel barrow parked by the restrauants she passes the children frolicking in the lot and she catches the heart beat of excitement of the little girl who's eyes are glued to the ipad that is playing alice and wonderland and rose can hear the garden scene and she cringes and feels like she's been swallowed by a world who doesn't know what passion is. rose wonders where the little girls mother is and she catches her mother sitting on the lap of the magnolia and she longs to be a mother but a mother who watches alice in wonderland with her child and frolics with her kids in the parking lot but pays attention to the cars coming just in case her motherly instincts have to kick in.
rose returns to her garden and flips thru the channels hoping to find a romance movie on. rose does this to her self. she absorbs her self into all the love she can get because deep downside she fears she will never find her dandelion. rose finds her self drowning in an ocean of tears. she crys out to the garden are my petals not light enough? is my stem to thick?. rose wants to dig herself a grave and burry herself there with the fake petals of a dandelion so that one day when the walkers in the cemetery hear the clanking of her stem crying out for love they will dig her up and see how much she coveted the love of a dandelion and they will find the real petals and place them next to her.  rose will tear honey because that's the sweetest thing she knows she will wipe her tears and lick the honey off of her petals. rose doesn't want to hide in her sunken city of petals she wants to tell you who she is. hello i am rose.
i've been trying to get rid of the file cabinets in my brain that i have been organized alphabetically. A- aster i love you and i promise your prayers for a new kidney will be granted. B- bleeding heart i want you to know i will drive you in wheel barrow to the hospital so you
can be sewed up. C- carnation please don't fret the world loves you and im so sorry you have a price tag that will eventually be ripped off when the children at the elementary school down the street buy you on february 14th just know that you're so much more to me than a valentine's day gift. D- daffodil you're too precious to feel unwanted your lover will come soon.i can hear the crys of them but please go back to the bed and sleep. i'm able to open my pedals up and hear the weeping of a dandelion "thank you for being there for them and just know i've been hear all along, rose. you're tired i can tell by the wrinkles of your palms please promise me rose that you will baptize yourself into the ocean of love that you keep drowning in. " rose pulls the dead roots that are pinning her down in her grave and gasps for another breath to see dandelion before the roots come back from under and tug her back down she is able to string her broken english together and whisper " dandelion i already have"

ive been told i'm naive. i have this problem of letting go i like to cling on tight to memories and most of all people. as soon as i meet someone i put all of my faith in them right away. they always end up hurting me and i feel this heaving in my chest and the pit of my stomach wants to grow legs and crawl it's way but i'm addicted to hurting. i don't know how to get rid of the memories i wish i could be like a snake who sheds but for some reason i like the layers to build up with sadness. i like the way music can make my soul break even more,but still give me a bit hope for someone new. why do i depend on others? i know how to be happy but i want someone to share it with. i want someone that feels like home. i live in this city in mind where the lights shine only at night the mornings scare me because it's a new day where something could go wrong but at night i like to travel to my city. the lights shine thru my bones its being lit up like a christmas tree when you're getting an MRI. on the bad days i try to hang the lights but not from the ceiling i want them to turn off. my bones beg to be brittle the fat that hangs on is suffocating them. my ilium believes the fat is the reason why she doesn't receive love. but ilium is wrong. ischium try's to remind her about the men who pinned those hips down before placing their hands on her mind give me your hands and feel my city. we could build our on world. our city will be for us and you can help me appreciate mornings and i can show you the night and i'll hang the lights where they belong. my heart is racing and this city has drowned me in nostalgia and now i don't know if i have someone to share my city with and then you never realize how lonely you are until you shut the lights off and the light music plays and it's like you remember having someone to share the tranquility with but yet you never really did. you never shared the way music is what's flowing thru your veins and what's pumping your heart. and i can see the look in his eyes and he doesn't get it. he doesn't understand that at night when i lye down i don't hear my heartbeat like he does i hear banana pancakes,cry baby, miss mirage, big jet plane,wait for me, only love, i hear music baby i hear the voices of artist that have constructed notes that soothe my mind their pieces have become co workers who are trading shifts because their not sure if there tunes have what it takes to pump oxygen today

nostalgia has become my best friend
the smallest things will make me relive this memory that i never really had. like when i hear the vibrations of no one ever loved, i have this aching in my bones and my heart feels like spears are flying in at every direction and i cry out for someone i never really lost or the way pictures of places make me yearn to go back to countries i've never seen. i've been homesick for the place we never had and longed for someone i could never have. home the scent that lingers to the bedroom i can smell the  batter of the aunt jamima. syrup is expanding on the kids plates, sticking like the glue they will soon discover their first day of preschool. and as i stand here in front of you now i can't fathom if this is another one of my vivid dreams. i've been in a mental daze for years now my mind is scattered like a meadow of sunflowers who can't seem to shine through my orbit nerves. the painting of the paris that dangles like saucepans behind my bed is yet another country i've tried to crawl into, but it's painful my knees are developing carpet burn and my elbows are full of red mountain ridges. and i can't seem to reach the summit of this mountain. honey do you remember the glue sticks we have hidden until the kids first day of school? give the glue to them. let them learn how to unscrew the cap, pop it off like the corks of the first champaign bottle they will open on december 31st. give them ropes that will leave a ribbon of red on their palms by the time they reach the clift that their mother dangles from. tell the kids to use their little muscles they've been strengthening with their daily glass of milk, to push mommy to the top and glue my feet there and make me promise i  will never jump. home the first place the kids got to use glue, the new place where whey will build a foundation of trust with their father on a mountain where glue wasn't enough to hold their mother down. mom. yes sorry, i was just washing the dishes, go color a picture for your father. soap drips from my prunny palms leaving ***** dish water memories. when i see the steel sink, i hear the garbage disposal weathering the rocks down of a mountain i've been struggling climb. breaking down every memory i've ever had. slicing them like apples except there's no juice. but there is aunt jamima batter, enough batter to linger scents to my room every morning. enough syrup to stick to the cheap paper plates, from the corner store. corners i will turn until i reach the summit of this  mountain.

why is it that womanhood is so vile? people bash our bodies opening us up like watermelons to see how sweet we are inside. squeezing our dreams and hopes like oranges into a glass cup. i think you are threatened of our bodies sweetness. threatened of our anger. get used to it. we are every fruit you wish you could pick from the tree. when our trees shed leaves you run because god for bid my ovaries drop an egg  and my legs split like a canyon with a sanguine river flowing for a week. you get down on your knees begging for our bodies s so long that when you stand your ankles crack like the noise i make on my way up the stairs from the night shift. i let my spine arch on the bed creating an invisible hill that you will try to climb. we are becoming stronger by learning not to brush off the  cruel cat calls you make when we walk by but instead we lift our middle fingers and tell you to woman up. tell you to grow some ******* ovaries because let's face it your ***** will never mount our courage. no it's not that i don't think you are strong but i know you need to change the way you speak to women. stop calling us a ***** just because we won't send you nudes. not even the pics we found on google of the old wrinkly breast. stop shaming me with my body parts. stop saying that's gay why the **** is something weird gay. do you remember when i said you are threatened of our anger no baby this is rage this is something i don't like to wear its like a heavy winter coat that clings to my sweaty carmel skin during florida winters.  but don't be threatened of our sweetness we are honeycombs. our kisses are golden yellow and thick. we love the feeling of our honey dripping on your lips.  we want  you to covet our thoughts not our thighs. take in our cellulite like oxygen but not until you learn to march with us and fight for our basic human rights and show pride for us when we wear our flowly skirts and tight jeans because don't you dare say my lacy bralette was asking for it. if you understand now hit pause now and take a stroll over to the orange groves and peel back our thick layers of glory and now now baby you can taste our royalty

my body is thick like a tree trunk. the leaves that cling on are the hairs the razor missed last night. the branches are my arms that are becoming weak like sticks every day because i can't bench more than the bar. my body is a home where i  used to leave the door wide open and now it's slammed shut with a padlock but that's not enough to keep the hatred from coming in. my body says you need dresser drawers, bed frames,chairs,couches to keep that door from ever opening again. my body is a sanctuary filled with "likes and ums" because my tounge ran out of locutions a long time ago. my body is an algebra 1 class i've learned to hate. learned like it was something i had to practice perfectly. like it was some sort of equation and i finally solved it. my body is a landfill that can't seem to make it to the home depot to buy soil to cover up the stretch marks, the scars,the bumps from the razor, the cellulite that aligns every inch of my thighs,all of these deficiencies are waste that are crumbling into the dirt. my body is a thrift store that only sells baggy mom jeans and asthetic sweaters but that's never been enough to please my closet. my body is april 8th a birthday full of craziness. my body said try not eating. neglected . deprived from any nutrients. i was pleased when a cool droplet of water  slid down my throat making me feel like antarctica was at my fingertips. i let my cheek bones narrow in. let my hip bones stab every person i embraced. bringing them in just so i could feel accomplished for proving there was something under the fat. letting my lips crinkle and turn a light purple not even chap stick was enough to save them. my body is a broken heart, glass shards skewered like shesh kebabs in my aorta. squirting out the barbarous memories of you. ripping me into pieces and burying me in a place i didn't know existed. my body is an hourglass that's always seems to run out of time but my body isn't skinny in the middle. the sand inside is my weathered down dreams that i've yet to succeed it always seems to get stuck in the middle and i fill it up with more sand that gets stuck in the middle and it all just ends up in my stomach making me want to ***** up everything i ate that day but i don't have the strength to put my finger down my throat. i don't have the strength to put up this fight. i'm using my long nails to gut my mouth open like a cantaloupe **** every taste bud and then i'll never know the difference between celery and candy.