You make the dormant feelings that lie in my heart
and beneath my skin..
quake when I catch a glimpse of you

You used to write our names
in big letters,
on all our school books.
You made it look like writing our names was your joy
Grounding yourself in the knowing that we are your children,
your lovely children
You hugged us in your dedication
in doing those simple things.

You used to write our names in those big letters, the handwriting that could only be yours.
And in just those letters I knew who we were, who you were.

Mom.

I thought...  it was a problem... that I felt nothing when you left?
And even when I thought of you days after.
I thought it was strange that I felt so passive...
because I truly loved your company... ?

but now I know, that wasn’t because I didn’t care but because I felt free.

I love them because they are
the opposite of me.
They are real and true
I love them because they aren’t merely the brisk and peaceful breeze in my hair...
They aren’t that at all.
They are the stern weight of solid Ground and the rapids of Flames breaking the Air
They are the force of gushing Water all around me
They are real: visible and easy to believe are true
and you dont have to wait until the wind blows to know
or be short of breath to believe it had once been.

Do you ever find something  that becomes a part of your life for a short while?
Like  a song?
Or a picture?
Or something. Anything...
That's so special and significant. Because it tells you what you need.

And everything is going to be ok.

I am a good girl
                      I am Innocent...

I am a good girl
I am clearing clouds, to show you starry eyes,

And newly blooming flowers of light within.

I am a good girl
I dont want to hold onto all of this,
onto the unnecessary,
Onto bad things: that tell me I need them.
I just
Want them.

The winds of my mind ******* away and I fade
I am empty
And I could just...
disappear
Into thin air

But yet.

My skin holds me, so that
I will not vanish
into the grey.

I felt him, I loved his voice, I loved his superiority
I love the idea that he's secretly gaurding me

A father, the owner of his daughter,
But no, it's the other, not my father that holds my laughter

It is him that shows me the love in places to go
Dad never showed me inspiration, truth in morality, to water me gently with truth to grow...

My Mind, flipping and turning left and right, as if my days are restless nights...
My Soul, a tight rope built into my gut, that is being walked on far too much, and now its due to snap...

my soul rests upon flower
beds...
loves me, loves me not as she
picks at their heads.
she runs to and fro,
she comes back to her bed
a dead, headless flower...
no colours seem to show.