“The only reason I write  poems is ... is to say  the things I could never  tell you”
“So can I read it”
“NO”

note to self
don't ever let someone 'fix' my poems
for i'm afraid they'll take away the emotion
from my handpicked words
words that reflect who i am
it may seem like i'm not open to criticism
but they don't feel the same way i do

Genuine like a child
Candid like an open book
Exotic like The Wild
Reassuring like a second look

I awoke this morning
From my little sleep
And the world was still here --
My robe waiting at the end
      of the bed
There on the shelf were books
      to read and in the pantry
      food for my belly --
And outside my window an endless
Gray sky where birds huddled in
The emptying trees, writing songs
Of southbound adventure
As the air hummed and lifted the
Weight of day's beginning --

And me with my small biography,
Stretching into its grace
Once more --

We only die once
But we live everyday