oh, hera
look upon me with your
piercing green eyes and
tell me of your woes,
of the fallacies you spin
around your ringed fingers;
tell me so i can learn how
to make the men drop to
their knees too

i don't remember exactly
when my hips came in
but trust me, it was a lot like
free overnight shipping that brought
bigger pants
stretch marks galore
and the legs to go with them
suddenly i looked like a woman
and i didn't quite know what to
do with that

i think you liked the way
my coronet of flowers was
tilted when i reached the
bottom of your black stone stairs
i think you liked the way i
placed the pomegranate seeds
one
by
one
onto my tongue and whispered
"don't tell my mother"
and i think you liked the way
i walked right up to you
as though you weren't a demon
but a fallen angels wanting to be loved
i smiled
and when you said my name...
that was the beginning and end
of everything

i'm not impervious to the fact that
if the universe allows
i will grow old and die one day
i know that my skin will draw back from itself
the way picasso drew on canvas
and vines and creases will work their way
into my once fair and smooth skin
but when i go i want long flowing white hair
that brushes my back gentle as a feather
and lingers behind me like a second goodbye
hair that i can twirl into knots absentmindedly
an braid while bored in church
i want ink stains on my hand from the spilled
ink of writing poetry and stories
notebooks filled with the words that came
out of the sharp movements of my hands
and my hands
i want hands soft but worn
like my mother's favorite winter coat
i want hands that have held and let go
i want hands that know what the hell they're doing
i want toenails painted the most obnoxious
shade of red and mascara packed on like a
suitcase going on a trip to heaven
i want to be that old lady with the cats
because, let's face it, we all know i'm already
that old lady with the cats
they'll be named names from literature and plays
and i'll hope their names match their counterparts
but if they don't i'll love them anyways and
hold them with these hands that will have held
onto so many things before
when i go i want to have lived
and i want to have lived really really good

i feel as though you should know
that the falling was a beautiful blur
but i guess i was hoping that
you'd catch me in the end

the words bloomed from my mouth
and the petals fell as i spoke what i'd been
trying to say for the last six months
beautiful and soft
they fell to the floor in swirls
but left behind only dust

if it weren’t for my sliding mirror closet doors, my room would look much darker with only one lamp turned out.
that’s what i’m thinking about at 12:11am when i can’t sleep and have to work the morning shift.
dozens of friends have come and gone through my room, marveling at the 80s design and dusty gold colored edging that doesn’t match the accompanying oak trim along the walls in my house. they stare and stare at their reflections, our reflections. take pictures, post them on social media. watch the comments rake in. is this what we’ve come to?
i switched where my bed is in my room so that i don’t have to look into the mirror as i fall asleep; it felt too narcissistic and depressing. now i have my bookshelf in front of me and the little lamp that jumps off the mirror next to me. i have my fan blowing and my window open to the late autumn, early winter night air that i love.
i take deep breaths out of sight from the sliding doors that keep clothes i hardly ever wear safe. i sleep without it’s stare focused on me. i sleep without you on me, around me. i close my eyes, see the stars there, and sleep.

she was too bright for that
small farm town
so bright she almost burned it down
because of this she moved to
where the sun shone most and
wilted, until she became little more
than a dandelion
you see, before she was a wild rose
that no one could tame
beautiful still, but not the flower
which everyone remembered
she was never the same--
that sunshine girl

the right side of my mattress has caved in on itself
a not so tiny crater in the shape of me
a rough outline of my contours
and i wonder
for a fleeting moment
if your bed has the same problem
only on the left

honey baby cherry pie
i've loved you since i caught your eye
but that was months and months ago
as winter passed i thought the same
in the spring out in the rain
with droplets running down my face i realized that
i'm lovesick
spend everyday and all night
waiting for you to see me
waiting for you to come through the door
waiting for you to come home
there's hearts coming out of me
bliss is surrounding me
lovesick
oh i'm lovesick

i know that i'm worth more than my body
truly
but holy hell
did you see that girl and they way they looked at her
i compared myself to her without giving it a second thought
and suddenly i'm fishing my sweater out of
my bag to cover up my arms and torso
i feel like jupiter compared to mars
i feel like my body parts expanded and i'm gonna be
floating around the room any second now
my father always told me that beauty was all
in the face but now i find myself wondering
if that was just a pretty little lie

depression is like running a
three-legged race with yourself

he told me once that my hair
reminded him of the mid-afternoon sun
streaming in through fogged up windows
during the january thaw
he said that my eyes looked like a
blurry sky the day before a summer storm
and that he swore he could hear the
lightning crackle while i slept
we are all idiots blinded by the idea that
love can prevail above all things
and when he talks to be like that
i think i may just be a lunatic

there's this boy in my class who can move through water like a raindrop through summer air, though his eyes are brown like the ground on which he walks.
he is an ocean with currents and waves and groundswells, all waiting to drag me up and send me crashing into him.
i've always been a good swimmer, was even on a team once, but his water is pushing and pulling and putting its hands on my waist and neck, tangling in my hair, telling me to trust him.
but how do i trust if i've never been in love before?
how do i give myself to someone and expect to get every penny back?
do i have the time (is he worth the time) to count every coin and weigh for counterfeits?
is part of falling in love taking the risk of not getting everything returned?
can i come out of love unchanged?
or is change a part of love?
i know that you took mythology as an elective last trimester because i saw you in the library and was trying not to stare so let me tell you the story of icarus.
he fell.
hard.
he had wings fashioned from wax and feather and did not heed his father's warnings, flying too close to the sun, touching salvation with his fingertips, only to fall into the unforgiving sea.
if i am icarus and you are the sea then who is the sun?
is love personified within the sun in our myth, something that you must fall away from in order to fall into?
is love the enemy or the goal, something to obtain?
is there a reward for the fall?
is the reward love?
do i need to love (or even merely like) in order to meet you face to face somewhere out of school, coffee maybe?
or a movie?
i hear there's a new one out about a girl afraid of love.
to be loved.
to give love.
to accept love.
does seven work for you?

you don't realize how strong gravity is until you're getting up off the floor

you can't shake hands and greet people with a smile through a wall.

kissing the cold lips of a marble statue
didn't feel too good until i remembered that
yours were always cold from the rain

conjugate the curves of my body
make sentences out of my scars
hold my broken pieces in your hands
and whisper "beautiful"

the melancholy of the moment hit me hard
like a rain check ten minutes before meeting
i've been on that road probably a thousand
times since last may
but something about the sunshine and the
slightly balmy breeze of late april
made me crave you in a way i hadn't before
i craved the way you always smelled like
essential oils and organic moisturizer
the seashells on your window frame
the creak in the floorboards in your entryway
the wind in my hair as i rode my bike to your
house, barely even able to wait long enough
for the white walk signal
i miss that
and it vanished right before my eyes
it's like every i touch falls apart
and i can't do anything to stop it
the funny things was
it started raining

dear unrequited love -
i don't know if you know what you do to me
you make my sides hurt and my heart ache
and yet i still love you for it
i love you for the way your hair
falls gently in your face and
every
single
time i want to push it away
i've imagined a million different scenarios in whih
the two of us are together and in love
i've imagined cradling you between my legs
and saying your name like an ascending prayer
but maybe you're just like the others
maybe you should just stay away from me
i know you sometimes like the way my
hips move from side to side or how
my face break in two when i smile
but darling, i'm scared because i don't want to lose this--
this nothing that we have because
it's all i have left of you

you told me that i belonged in the louvre
me, with my curtain of dark blonde hair that
i was (trying) to grow out to where it was
before i ceremoniously cut it all off
and that statement was followed with
not one
but two heart emojis
after that i trusted you (though i don’t know why)
the way you wormed your way into my head
deserves some sort of award
for months, before i even liked you, i would
dream about you almost every night
and i know that sounds crazy, but it happened
so i said that i liked you (indirectly)
but you told me you loved someone else (directly)
only, you said i belonged in the
i guess i never knew that i was meant to be
by myself there, a mona lisa smile on my face
waiting for you to come take me off the wall
and make me feel worthy again
because i had based all of my self-worth in
how many looks you gave me but you barely
told me the time of day
but i’ll wait
and wait
and wait
(tell when you’re ready for me)
(tell me you love me)

i think i must have lost myself
somewhere up in your stratosphere
and only found myself when
the sun's fingers kissed the horizon
the way i wanted you to kiss me

i could get over you
easily
climb up over my feelings for you
like stepping over an anthill
whilst humming my favorite song
i could pull you off of my thoughts
the way my ratty old sweatpants
slide down my legs at 2 a.m.
i am content with becoming a wallflower
yet again when you tire of my blue eyes
and the way the sun shines
straight through the middle of them
but i just want you to look at me
one last time the way you did when
the "october sky" end credits rolled
just one more time so i can feel the
electricity of locked eyes in a crowded room
look at me again
make me a garden of wildflowers
in the middle of june

i found myself wondering why you still
come around every so often
to talk
to laugh
to listen
and you should know that it drives me
just a little bit crazy
you see, your eyes, those **** eyes,
always lock with mine
but you don't look away (so i don't)
and then the electric current starts
thrumming and humming and buzzing
until it becomes a tangible things
that i taste on the tip of my tongue
when i'm around you i can't think straight
my words become  j u m b l e d  and
i want to kiss that spot where your
neck jaw head meets
but i can't, and i hurts like hell

when terrorism reached its hands
into my inconsequential city
i wasn't quite sure what to think
the mosque was a place of worship
where people gather to pray and heal
but that lone wolf dropped a bomb
into that peaceful place
during their morning prayers
what possesses someone to do that?
can you tell me using the 26 letters?
can you please help me understand?
why in my city?
why in that beautiful place?
why do those who do not understand
others react with violence and hate?
can't they see the pain on the faces
of those now afraid to pray?
can't they feel it in the air?
taste it in the rain?
hear it in the wind?
because i can, and it's terrifying

i looked up
i promise that i did

what were you thinking as
you walked into that lake
with your pockets full of
rocks and a letter for your
husband on the kitchen table?
your mind ate you alive
and there was nothing
anyone could do to stop it
- how i wish i could have stopped it

i knew that something was going to happen
because i could hear the bees swarming and
buzzing inside the hollow place in your chest
(which only you believed to be hollow)
there was a restless energy about you last august
you could see it and smell it and hear it
i even tasted it in that vegan pizza you made for us
i felt a push coming, and i was hoping that it
would finally move the negative thoughts and
feelings that clung to you like a shrouded mist
but it was me that you pushed away in the end,
with the might that you'd been building up for years
it was me, and i wish i'd realized that before
i gave whatever was left of me to you
praying that it would somehow be like a rope
you could grab on to, so i could save you from
the pit of your despair
but you never wanted saving
and you never told me that

i don't want to be a flower
something to be plucked and looked at
i want to be a groundswell, a mighty wave
or a ravenous forest fire
i don't want to be adored
i want to be feared

if you think i'm magical now
you should've seen me when my
hair floated behind me on a
phantom wind with a second goodbye
after walking past

every year the rivers and lakes freeze over
and sometimes i think maybe my heart does too

in her whisper i hear fire
in her screams i hear storms

sometimes just to think of you
feels like dying because i believed
we shared a soul
but i had to grow my other half
after you left and the roots are still
sinking into the soil and the flowers,
they haven't fully grown yet,
but one day a garden will flourish
from my body and my mind will be
the sunlight that feeds them
- carranam

when someone's blame turns around
and points it's finger at you, don't back down
stare it in the face--
smile;
blame is a beautiful thing that likes
to shift in the inky blackness of deceit

sometimes i think that even the flags weep

thank you
thank you for showing me all
that could have been
all of the possibilities hidden under
moss covered rocks
thank you for taking me into the forest
of companionship and showing me
what true, raw kindness is
you didn't owe me anything, nothing
when i felt like he owed me everything
you showed me love and warmth when
i was shivering on the ground
i hope that you know what you mean to me
you represent everything i ever wanted
you represent all i could ever want
you open doors for me
you tease without secret malive
you do things with intention and fervor
you loved me in a form of a relationship
where i felt i could not be loved
so thank you for not being a weight
or another thing to worry about
thank you for being my little slide
of the life i never got
i have never gotten that return with him
sometimes it feels like when you're in
a dark, warm room with the pressure all around
pushing you in deeper and deeper
but with you it's like stepping outside into
fresh and cool air
you turned some of my storms into
the thin, wispy clouds that flutter in the wind
at the end of movies
so thank you
you have absolutely no idea what you mean to me

i know that you watch t.v.
all the time to drown out
the sound of your pain
but can you please see me?
just ask how i'm doing?
this house is not a home
and you're one of the reasons

if god doesn't let you through
his doors then maybe you'll
make your own little heaven
- find me there

i knew he was gonna ruin me
like a natural disaster but i was
feeling a little bit dangerous that day
and the glint in his eyes made
me want him that much more

my thoughts are as ***** as my bedroom floor
and for a second i think about daring to touch
that bottle of apple flavored whiskey hidden in plain sights

but the serenity is prayer is etched into my mind
and i can't shake the image of your car rolled over
three times with you hanging out the side door

i've had to find different ways to cope with my pain
and writing poetry is one of them
when i write i see colors and hear symphonies
when i write words tumble out through my hands

and my hands have their own plan in place
so i am but a vessel for all of the things i cannot say
and my words, i hope that they echo and clang
much like church bells

if hopes and dreams come true were a common thing
then we'd all be fools in love with ourselves and each other
i wish on eyelashes and dandelions and birthday candles

though i wish on the stars most of all because i think
that they're the closest i'll ever come to my hopes and dreams
the stars are devastating in their beauty
and triumphant in their grace
that's what i want my hopes and dreams to be
and when i look at the stars i can see them clearly

c a n
      y o u
             ?

it's kind of crazy, the way people come into your life and change you.
when i met her i didn't think right off the bat,
"this girl is gonna be my best friend."
but time wore like it does and, like humans do, we grew closer.
a bond formed by a shared distaste for egg rolls, rap, and similar schedule.
so tonight when she called me, crying and breaking, something i could see and sense without her saying a word, i knew that
if this girl can trust me
then i can trust her.
for better or for worse.

when you yelled at mom
the mind of it blew her hair back
and away from her lovely face

you force fed the words down her throat
and waited until she excepted it
as a form of nourishment

did you not see me
on the couch
watching it all

because i saw it
and i heard it

the yelling burned my ears
and the words were like
razor blades in my heart

i sat in the shotgun seat of your eyes
and they drove me to the edge of glory
the radio was up and playing a silly love song
my feet were on the dash
i was reading a collection of poetry
there was a soft breeze coming in through
the open windows as we rode along
trees passed in blurs but you--
you stayed in brilliant focus
like waiting for a red light to turn green
you were the harmony and the melody
the center of this galaxy

i don't write poetry anymore
i sit in my room, naked, feeling the curves of my body, searching for a sort of foreign peace within them
i study for exams, begin books i never finish, watch movies and stop halfway through, wear the same pants three days in a row, go a week without washing my hair
i lay down in the grass and watch the sky move
i laugh, i smile, i talk with friends
i feel alive driving in my car, letting the spring wind blow through my growing hair
i celebrate my mom's birthday, mother's day, memorial day
i go to baseball games and wear perfume
i play the only song i know on the piano when i should be practicing the flute
i stand in the shower and think too long and too hard
i pick fights with my dad because i can
i imagine my future, peering around the invisible bends in my path
(my apartment is beautiful, the one in my head, in case you were wondering)
i travel down 35W to see my family on their farms during harvest, the combines plowing through corn and leaving the fields bare for the snow to blanket in the winter
i sing loudly in church and pray only when i feel like there's something to pray about
i get lost in myself, trying to figure out who i am and where i'm going and what i want, the maze just never seems to end
i realize how much i'm starting to look like my mother-- my eyes, my cheeks, my nose are all bits and pieces that i got from her
i don't write poetry anymore
life has gotten too busy
life has gotten too hard

with each day that slowly trickles by
i try not to give up on the hope of the
effervescent tomorrow

people always told me that my
golden brown hair was the most
beautiful part of my being
and when the ends started to brush
against my eighth and ninth ribs
i decided i was beautiful

so i cut my hair till it rested
against the nape of my neck and
looked at myself in the mirror

and guess what?
i still felt beautiful

it's you i've been looking for all this time
really, it's hard to believe
you were the cold side of the pillow
my second thoughts in the pouring rain
the sun coming in through fogged up windows
it's you, and i guess i find that hard to believe
i find you to be quite funny
and adorable, but a little brash at times
you don't really notice me and that's fine
but when you do eventually see me
i'll smile, maybe wink, and pretend that
you didn't tell me that you loved someone else
and that you don't like me at all last night--
it's you i've been looking for all this time
but now it's time to let you go

maybe i had so much
truth and you were
scared of that too

you're alive
i mean, you stand in front of me
you can breathe
i feel the air shirt when you move
as if you were alive
but in some ways, you're dead
i'm mourning you, though you're here
i can touch you and feel you
if i put my fingers to your wrist
there would be a steady, rhythmic pulse
but there's nothing in our relationship
there's nothing tell me you're alive
so i mourn you as i would mourn
a dead relative or friend
i mourn not for you as a person
but for all that could have been
for all of the possibilities that were
hidden under moss covered rocks
because of something out of your control
because of something no one can control
it's cruel and it's evil and it's real
it's still there and you're still dead--
you're still dead and i can't bring myself
to go to your funeral

my father is all about being brutally honest--
well here's a brutal truth
no matter what people tell you, the fact of the
matter is that sometimes hate is more powerful than love