If this were a poem
I'd climb the long stairs to the attic and
crouch by the window
where snow gathers on the sill

Study the field of stars

How they fall, wanton
oblivious to boundaries

How each light
could be a door to another world
that my body would slip through
if it knew the way

This is where the poem would build

Between the edge of the window I grip
and the endless space of nothingness
that calls to me

*Come learn the alphabet of stars

On one cold, December night,
There shone a luminescent light.
Then to me that light would speak.
In a voice so tempting and sweet.
The secrets that light had told, a story had begun to unfold.
Of beauty, madness, pain and terror.
How something could fall apart by error.
Once a child so innocent and frail, could be ripped to shreds; only entrails.
And once the light would soon depart, a soul consumed by merely dark.
Mind trapped, there's no escape.
Nothing but darkness; desolate.
This luminescent light faded.
Turned to black; manipulated.

We are always falling
in hopes of finding something better
below,
but there are times we discover nothing more
than the concrete ground
and the shame of believing
there would always be someone out there
waiting to catch us

i am in a room of my own.
a solitary confinement of
my own will, or
perhaps not?

there are a few doors
around this room.
the soft noise of mild chatter
emits from them.
yet,
i sit alone. in my room.

i am feeling
r e s t l e s s.

i open a door and i
see my friends round a table,
chit-chatting idly.
they laugh and welcome me
to the table.
today, i say a salutation
and shut the door behind me.

i do the same with the rest.

i walk back to the middle of the my room.

i start to c
                  r
                    y.

Do you love me?

It's been less than a year
Since I met you here.
I didn’t know you well
But well enough to know
That I loved you.

Yes, you’ve broken my heart
But I want to give you another chance
To fix it.
I still have those old stitches
But when you pull them away
It will be a new slate
Fresh with no pain.

Love me back or not
At least I know I fought.
I fought a war to gain your love
And though I may have lost
It was at no cost.

Only a few more stitches

today we decided to bake a cake.

it was my idea really,
you said you were the expert,
but i wanted to help.

i poured water and oil
while you cracked eggs,
then i stirred and stirred
until you poured it in the pans.
you placed them in the oven
that i avoided
because it is my greatest
fear.

we waited until they were done
we waited until they cooled
so that we could decorate.

again you took charge,
but i didn't mind
because i could've watched you all day,
taking your time-
so delicate, fragile, gentle.

your handwriting is beautiful
and you wouldn't let me write,
so i chose to respond
with a frosting fight.

we chased each other in circles,
in circles we chased each other.

you grabbed my wrist
(if only you decided
to interlock our fingers,
i wouldn't have minded).

so i grabbed your wrist
and we danced around-
our feet were pound (ing)
frosting hit the ground
we laughed with a joyous sound
and then you found...

the perfect opportunity.
you smeared it in my,
face
nose
hair
clothes,
so i chased you up the stairs
and you tried restraining me,
i chased you down the stairs
and you helped me see,
that we had no time left
for fun,
we had to finish the cake
we begun.

so i grabbed the sprinkles,
you caught the ones that fell;
i handed you the candles,
frantically listening for the door bell.

it came too soon
we had to hurry put everything in random places act like everything was normal
because the cake was a surprise.

later we finished,
you lit the cake,
it was truly beautiful,
what we can make,
when we work together.