how had i gotten here?
with eyes closed, stumbling, drunk
and lost for what felt like a lifetime, but
suddenly my spine sits straight and my
mind is as calm as the clean translucent
water of this magical place that i keep
returning to, i've washed myself of the
tarnish that dulled the stars that had always
been beneath my skin, begging me
to allow their shine to brighten the
dark corners which had once consumed me

and now i'll lay back on these ancient cedars
and sing a song that's different from all of
the rest because it's you strumming the tune
and your hands are gifts from the universe,
slowly changing the way we all see this place,
one slow dive inward at a time, oh sweet man,
i no longer wonder what i did to deserve you, instead
it's "yes, life can be this good, if you allow it,"
as many times as it takes to ring true

i move quickly here
on cobblestones,
through skinny alleys,
in flat feet slapping the pavement
with echoes that reach
up to touch a sky
swirling with malevolence
in a way that makes me
feel like i'm home

the air sticks on me as
i stick on a bench and
watch a man draw a woman
into his heart and notebook
all at once while an angel
floats above the water and
weaves songs of paradise,
bursts of fire float around all
of us, whispering, "the magic
isn't dead, you've only forgotten"

clouds begin to crack open above
and the relief comes slow at
first with a steady roll of pattering
on sidewalks and bursts of light
menacing behind skyscrapers,
i begin to wonder how much
more i could levitate when you
come along and pull me up to
see that old cracked bell ring again

questioning why i'm doing this and
then it's all written in tiny print on
your too smooth skin and white
teeth despite all of the drunk cigarettes,
you're a hand painted shell begging
me to smash you open, and i can't
resist a good mess, especially if
i don't have to stick around to do
the cleaning up afterwards

i dance my way through giant
domino pieces and conversations
about human connection with eyes
as wide as they are shut, and god
****, do you want exactly that, but i'm
laughing in the bathroom, realizing
this city is romantic, but it isn't love

help me unpack this
i begged as you tried
to hide yourself behind
years of teachers who
were all miss honey with
none of the sweetness

lean any harder and
you'd fall out of your chair,
but i get it, we have a white
man at our table and he's
handsome and successful

i don't nod enough, or
mmm-hmmm, or snap (often),
and my calf-eyed stare
makes you ask, "are you
with me?" more times than is
comfortable for either of us

i'm too wide open, a
grapefruit that was run over
in the safeway parking lot
after it bounced out of your
trunk, juices oozing and
the scent of my insides
familiar, but too ****

i wait to be eaten alive,
but the bitter rot has hands
scraping worn rind off asphalt,
tossed into the garden,
among sweet peas awaiting rebirth

i don't want to immortalize you,
i want to keep you in a tiny box
with a handsome photo of you
next to each and every thing
you write when you feel whatever
it is that you feel when you write

i don't want to work hard at this,
because i know what that yields
and i'm pretty sure neither of us
has the capacity to grow much
of anything other than ourselves
into what we're destined to become

i don't know who she is,
this woman who talks to you
without fear of rejection or
retribution despite the fact
that i'm saying things i never
thought would roll off of
my disciplined tongue

i don't want much from you,
other than words and long looks
and touches and carnal attraction
and time when you can spare it
despite the truth of how little
excess either of us seem to possess

upon waking
i dance, pony, dance
and tell you what
the universe holds
in it's palms for you

my brain is still
trying to rewire
after a night of floating
that didn't amount
to much despite
the vice i placed it
within before the start

i wonder if you've
found the tiny flame
to brew your morning
coffee in that small
space you call home,
and then i realize, it
doesn't matter, even
if you're awake i still
have no business
crawling inside a place
that is explicitly yours

instead i sleep in leather
skirts and wake unable
to open my eyes because
i'm not ready to see a
world that deems me unfit
to love, despite knowing
that i'm the one doing the
reflecting and no one really
cares about my scarred
insides as much as i do

i find myself reluctant
to heal this time, working
slowly to touch every
inch of the broken and
beautiful pieces that make
me into the woman i am,
finding peace in the fact
that i am for the first time
truly and completely alone

this moment before the real one,
you know,
when you're preparing for an ending,
or maybe a beginning,
same difference anyways, right?

i have waited so many moments to
get to this one,
only to realize it's the first moment
of many while waiting for the next one

i find myself jumping into each
without much hesitation,
but the trick isn't showing up,
it's being present

to be you is to leave a life
painted with regret in twitchy
strokes that reveal unsteadiness
in every movement of the brush

i work in certainty more often
than not, seeing the colors before
they splatter on canvass, a predetermined
image fixed in my mind's eye

my palette has changed, no longer
faded and full of sadness, now there
is a luster to the tones splayed before me,
a freedom to the movements i make

i am becoming the you, the me, my
art had always dreamed it would one
day be, i am unveiling my greatest work
yet, effortlessly beautiful in it's simplicity