i am leading an undefined life
on a kite string
full of fake faces, staged greetings,
and smiles
that don't quite extend to the eyes.
it is as full as a predated diary kept until now.
my childhood went missing in rose gardens
and the space between
the goals.
i had a chalkboard that wouldn't erase.
i have read between the lines of love notes
i have read emotion in only seven letters
i have read passion in fourteen keys
i thought i was untouchable
...and i was...
but not unwillingly.
i got caught writing nursery rhymes
on my desk
in the middle of an exam.
and now, at eighteen, i have seen
the carriage stop, and slowly drive away.
i have heard the beauty
in john cage's
four minutes and thirty-three seconds.
i don't know why, but i have chopin's
nocturne in E-flat major
stuck in my head.
i hate not being able to say the right words
when i need them
instead of when
i find them.
i love the woven metal
embracing my finger;
that makes us almost sisters.
i've lost a heavy golden crucifix
with an anchor as its back,
and a tiny bundle that tore me up inside.
i'm looking for a fireman
named greg
just to see how he's doing
since 1997.
i wish that everything i wrote would become truth,
because then
i could make people come back.
and my heart is strong.