Don't be scared to get a little dirt under your fingernails.
Dare to dig through the tunnels
her scars have built around her
wipe your hands when necessary -
pause - catch your breath
but keep going

Get yourself new spectacles
ensure they're clear enough to let you see the cracks
and when you do
pick and pull at them
start at the corners
they fall off more easily
watch as rock slips after rock
some heavier than others
because memories can be hard to let go of
look for the loose ones and caress them
listen to her song
let it guide you towards her

don't listen as tick follows tock
she is not a land mine
she is a hidden gem;
be gentle

when you are exhausted - sweating and panting
when the sand has huffed and puffed on your face
and doubt begins to whisper,
look at your bare feet
they no longer hurt from the miles walked
Mother Earth has painted them with strength
she has embraced them,
you are her child and
your feet are pointing forward;
Don't you dare defy them

Don't be scared to get a little dirt under your fingernails;
Dig through a few layers of society
and you will find unadulterated beauty

After you have climbed all her mountains
and swam her rivers
you will finally see
that she is not pretty
She is not confined in five letters
She is a sonnet, a love song
an unread novel
ready to be explored; liberated
ready to be alive

She is the happiness in your face
when you reach the hilltop,
an autumn breeze on a summer day,
she is the courage that it takes
to look into her eyes
and give her your lusting fingernails;
To say:
You are the true face of beauty.

i wish i knew how to put some pretty words together;
in a way that you could read me and cry without realizing it,
in a way that you don't know how it all suddenly made sense
but it all fell together - so right - till the end.
with the steady hand of a seamstress and the persistence of a theorist,
i would string together wispy letters, carefully taking away
and holding all the guilty, lukewarm feelings of self-romanticized nostalgia,
with those hollow, deep pangs of shamelessly missing you
from the somewheres and over theres beneath my ribs.
sometimes, i really miss you - and all of those times, i hate it.
sometimes i stare back at you longer than i should,
but i'm beginning to think that even looking your way
is much worse than a waste of sweet time at this point.
i don't want you inside of my mind anymore.
my wants and needs and maybes of tomorrow are foggy and furiously blinded with
what you used to make me feel. will i ever want anything that much again?
i see you a lot in my mind, smiling handsomely in a way that kind of ****** me off.
in some way, i am overwhelmingly upset in a way i can't describe, in such a strange dialect that
i've maybe only begun to understand when you spoke it to me with watery eyes and an offkey tone:
"i can't do it." i think i know what you mean now.
you were trying to say something deep, i had thought all along,
but i think you were just trying, just simply trying to go along
with something that was safe; you know, i forgive you for playing it safe.
we're just trying to protect what little good we think is left.
i wish i could have tried just as hard; tried harder/ to be with you
because i'm just so tired
(i need to rub my eyes clear)
that i will exasperatingly admit that i am lost after you.
i'm so ruthlessly childish, in a curious way that i refuse to let these warm,
painful feelings for you go.
ruthlessly, still into you, i'm so hardheaded that i will even ignore myself
to forget you
over
(this is the last time i'll look back on you)
and over
(i swear his name won't come to me tomorrow)
again.
you replay in my mind;
maybe one day i will
forget that you ever really meant everything to me once
anyways.

do you know
i fall asleep
with my hands
touching
together

but I notice the difference
as yours Are tougher
bigger
rougher
but i've never had the pleasure

of falling asleep with
your hands
though ive slept
cocooned
in your scent

do you know
i've never been very good
at confessions

i confess
i could draw
freehand
the shape of your lips
from Memory

(i could show you
      where they curve
       and bend
       and they look like
       the perfect destinatIon
       for my life to end
  killing myself,
        to die upon a kiss
       
        to die upon 
        your kiss
        i'm killing myself
       by even thinking this)

i confess
i could shade
the exact ways
your hair falls
dowN
by your face

(i could explain
    the smelL of your hair
    after a long day at work
    it feels thicker
    as it resists against
my hands
      
     you dO that too
     do you know)

i confess
i could describe
the wonders
in
your eyes
of
your eyes
so accurately
they would be seen
by the blind

(i'd rather not tell you
       how i feel
       when you catch me
staring
       but i just
                       can't
         help myself
i neVer want to miss
       a single blink
a wink
       no time to think)

i confess
words,
the words,
keEp
running
sprinting
dancing
prancing
in my mind
but i cannot find
an acceptable order
to confess them in



love in you i am with



one two three four five six


and, oh father,
there is no need to confess
for We have not sinned

he would not look
upon me
if i was the last to exIst
he merely
glances over to me
now and then

and, oh father,
you know
how i desire
These
tormenting
words
to go

he could barely tell you
the colour of my Hair
i could tell you
the colour of his
when he was five

milky way kid

do You know
me
am i
just a girl
who falls asleep
alone
in the backseat
Of the car

that old red polo
is not so appealing
anymore

and, love,
i confess
or
these words will die
on the lips
yoU leave
unkissed

i am in...

*i cant