There are times
I miss holding babies,
touching the fleeting moments
of purity
and milk mouths.

There are times
I long for the womb,
to go back swimming
so I can be reborn
once more.

I am feeling ancient,
thousands of millenniums old
a speck of dust
carrying triple its weight
in my belly.

There are times,
my soul contracts,
breaking water almost,
becoming ready
for an arrival.

Tell me, how long
is the gestation of heartache?
How many embroys
must die before the soul wakes,
spitting an infant?

There are times
I miss tiny dimpled hands
a wink of a moment's reminder
of what was aborted
without my consent.

The cradle rocks
ever so gently in the corner
as my hands weave pink sweaters.
In the mist of the silky rain
I wait to give birth again.

v.k

I live for the days that you look at me
Some recognition that you know I exist.
It's not always worth it
Loving you

But then you smile
Or laugh
And I know
Its worth it.

Even if you never see me,
Or never learn my name
I know yours,
And I won't forget it anytime soon.

I live for you
And its scary,
Because you don't know I live at all

But its okay.
Becaue I somehow survive.
And its okay.

I felt my world unfolding
So confused
What was true?
What was right?
It was like a tsunami
Ripped through my life
I was drowning from the destruction
I found the way to save myself
I found the rock, the branch, to cling onto
To pull myself away
From the Ghost of the relationship
From the debris of
Pain
Poetry – I will not let go
My freedom to write about
The life that nearly ended mine
Beyond Sunset and Sunrise this
Is a fight I will never give up?

The world has forgotten about the moon,
which is fine.
Filled with holes and
long-distance relationships never work out.
The moon can do better.

Sometimes I look up into the sun and
wonder what the flames are thinking.
Imagination is a powerful tool.
An ally.
The sun never responds.
It blocks the view.
I can do better.

What happens when the dead come back to life?
Will we still watch reality TV?
Keeping up with the Corpses.
The strange will inherit the Earth.

The glare of the office's lights are blinding.
I wonder how many secrets
the wall clock can remember.

My cube neighbor and I have an argument.
I suggest that Spiderman is a terrible superhero,
he shows me his Brown Recluse bite.
I will still claim victory.

To the lady walking down N. Broadway,
pretending that she is a bird.
I get it,
I want to fly as well.
There is no will left to fight.

I will never reach my fullest potential.
That is something I will remember forever.
However,
I am hoping for the best.
A fool's errand.

Hope is something that
rich men talk about, while
flying through the clouds.
The sun is their ally.
Keeping the poor from dreaming.

My only plans for the New Year,
are sitting on my couch,
drinking beer, and
watching the walls dance.
Bubbles busting in celebration,
while I fall asleep at 12:01 AM.

Thus is the life of an adult.
Listening to the ruins of society,
waiting for the witches to burn.

The human skin can be hard to live in,
That's why most of us tear it.
And I, my loves,
Am a hypocrite

I tell you not to tear such precious, innocent skin
While late at night
I hold my blade
And carve it in.

I like to push oh so hard.
Only to get the adrenaline
of seeing the blood and make sure I am still alive
Though I feel as if I'm not at all alive anymore

I'm a zombie
living in the palest of skin
And if your lucky
I'll let you in.

It doesn't happen often
But for some it may
Those lucky few
Will be dismayed

For I seem like a bright ray of sunshine
In this dark dark world
But jokes on you
I'm the darkest of them all.

dots riddle my face
for what looks like a game in a child's activity book
hiding from the world
feeling scarred and broke

these blemishes make up me
some are physical and most our mental
but still every one is so judgmental

they say society is ugly
then I must be society

i feel them stare as walk past
not wanting any moment to last

for every battle i win, a war awaits me
i see the beauty of the sun
just to watch the darkness of the night take over

confidence is key
but where's the lock

these blemishes make up me
some are physical and most our mental
but still every one is so judgmental

i wake up every morning to to rest again
dreading the hours to past
locked up in my own chain

getting called cute or hot
only lasts a moment
while i remember the ugly within