they had reached out.
if only i knew
how much they were hurting.

i would've listened
i would've ~been there~
for them

if only they listened
if only they could see
how much the world has
been weighing down on me

when i lettered them:
-Hello-

listen
be silent
- - -
it's no wonder
we never relent

i cant remember
the last time i had
something worth
- - -
remembering

walking away-
i lay down my arms
awaiting the cease fire
you never call.

my eyes are open
& it'll never change
yet i still wait

& i'm standing still now
embracing the bullets you
throw my way-
the ones you call good intentions
but they hurt me all the same

is it a thrill how
each passes through me
and leaves an empty space
as they go

you can see through me now
yet i wonder why
you never stop asking
me what's wrong

what's wrong
is that there's nothing
left of me

it's any different than
past suns and moons.
You won't hold me
when they visit me nightly.
Kiss me Good Night
& sing to me softly
even though they
make me live
and relive
so harshly.
- - -
To forget...
...I'm left holding
myself.
Just as I have...
...in past suns
& present moons

stuck in decay
swaying with bottles
throttling myself on cheap cigarettes
regretting all my wasted time
- - -
maybe this time
will be
the time

there have been
bad storms & blue weather
& i've been
battered, bruised
& treated like a feather
grown up listening to sad songs
never thought it would last this long

now i know
- - -
so long as i'm still here
this is all that i can feel

the demons are dead
but their skeletons remain

the zombies are gone
but their skeletons remain

what am i to do
when the bones wont go
- - -
knocked me down
i don't want to get up

push me deeper
until i'm part of the earth

what is there left to say
when all the words i've laid
in front of you bear no meaning
we speak different languages
mine, delicate
yours, harsh

the words-
ones i scramble to find
but still can't push to you
- - -
is this where we part?

please
let me go
and let me be free
to sing my song
for those who feel
my melody

a page turns
& the year passes
but with us remains
all of our compassions

so let us proceed
into the next chapter,
lest we be relieved
til we find
all that matters

fervent for being their likeness
yet abhorrent of what they're like.
down a rabbit hole
filled with champagne
until I'm neither like them
nor like myself
- - -
just somewhere
in between
still no where
at all

somedays it seems very clear
that December is never dear
to me.

snow-kissed branches outreached
atop snow-kissed mounds of cold

crystals gently laying themselves
upon the silent earth outside.
a silence that can only be heard
when all shelter from the
falling flakes outside.
- - -
winter after winter
i always wish as it draws nearer

for a family warming their toes
around a crackling hearth adorned
with red stockings and an initial
of our names on each.

to be drinking mulled cider
and mull over musings of the
yesteryear together. all while
sneaking glances at the neatly
wrapped boxes underneath the
Christmas tree we wreathed a
day after Thanksgiving.
- - -
but my winters have no snow
and no Christmases worth
watching through a window.
my family is myself
and myself is sorrow.

like the dark winter sun
you return every morning
to my sky that you
left with darkness
just a short while ago.
- - -
but with your light
you forget to bring
the warmness
yet still, i stay
outside.

filling my insides
with your
poisonous fruits.
your breath
like venom
& your words
like knives
- - -
it's been years
but your gaze
makes me shudder
with terror

afraid of
which facet
you will now
present

like a plague you catch on
incurable at least
death at most
- - -
you poke and ****
all my shortcomings
until i'm full of holes
- - -
can you see through me
and all that i've become?

it feels like
being stuck
in the density

dark hazy
visage
clouding
the view
and a
big boulder
on your
shoulders,
on your chest,
and on your
lungs.

keeping you
tumbling over
and over again
in the density

rolling the boulder
up toward the heavens
hoping one day
to become the stars
- - -
rolling the boulder
back onto us
instead, turning into
the dirt that begat us.

Chimera gave me a
Molotov cocktail
on a Friday night
in a neon-lit
downtown scene.
- - -
they never told
me not to drink it
because they wanted
me to go down in flames.
- - -
so I drank it, and it
burned my innocence
for I will never trust
another when they
hand me a drink
- - -
but i am phoenix
and from the
flames i keep
rising

give me your gentle loving
and your tender caressing.
speak to me softly
but love me oh so loudly.
- - -
scuffle of feathers
laid upon the grass
their weight not
enough to sink in

so they rest atop
the blades
so delicately
leaving no trace
of what took place
to lay them there.

suburban siren screams
quiet on tv screens
it's an ordinary scene
58 days since he's been clean

trying other ways to escape
the rural landscape
guess it didn't work for long
that means he must've been wrong

just like in the world
short poems
get read
more than the
longer ones
as we're all
searching for
perfect prose
concisely put
to remind us of
what it is
that we feel
- - -
how many blankets
will it take
to make me feel
warm?

In brief breaks
of my isolation
I fit in all the words
I did not have the
opportunity to share.
- - -
And just like that,
I spend the rest
of my isolation
wishing I had
stayed quiet
instead.

i don't want
to watch you bleed
i just wish
you helped me succeed

shaded by a sun hat
in the south of France
reclined on a lawn chair
overlooking the Mediterranean.

Parliament smoke lingers
in my frizzy black hair
but I smell like lavender
from the fields of Provence

my fresh preened scarlet nails
rhythmically tap the flute
of '95 Roederer Cristal
while I wait for my
Edmond Dantès
imprisoned--
to become seasoned
like my wine.

I grow old & impatient
yet still I'm waiting
for my dear Dantès
wherever he may lay

making sure my brow
won't furrow
and i eat bone marrow
so my lover will see
me just as he had left me
- - -
young & beautiful
sitting by the seaside-
my long smooth legs
stretched and glistening
in the sand where we
drank together,
bottles of cheap wine

console me
& just hold me
don't tell me i'm wrong
'cause i know i am

please
just let me cry
in your arms
while you hold me
like a child

i know it's my fault
i don't deny that
but for once,
please
just hold me
- - -
i'm pleading.
while my heart's
still beating

i have never been
the shy type
hiding behind
books and glasses
escaping to the day
i'm whisked away
into a whirlwind romance

i have never been
the life of the party
drawing everyone's gaze
magnetic and vibrant
as i dance with
a stranger on the
table

i have never been
the proper primrose
with neatly
stacked shelves
of all my
accomplishments

i have only been
the shapeless one
fading into the background
belonging to no one
with failure as my shadow
trying to make it another day
toward my tombstone

Chris and Abby
young loved together
a love like no other
akin to Annabel and her Lee
but two years down the line
they became history

Abby never stopped loving
him and his symphony.
lonely and heart broken
Abby grew cold
she learned to tell no lies
until that's all she became

years down the line
Abby still wonders
what became of her
long-lost lover

she remembers the innocent
way they spoke and
misses the constant company
he gave her

she remembers he loved
drinking Monster
and that for a while
he became that to her
- - -
heartbreak fades
and most of all
she wonders if
she'll ever have
the magic of her
first true love
again

i wish i could
remember fondly
all that i have
loved and lost
but i focus on the loss
and become scornful
biting my lips
and my arms
to keep my
silent screams
from being heard
by anyone
other than
the girl
in my head
- - -
she is no
friend of mine
but she stays
there sometimes

if i confide in you
i know that you will chide me
find blame in me
for what happened
that hurt me

so in time i learned
to trust no one
and to hide in a
dark closet corner
where i won't be seen
cowering or choking
on my screams.

they call it
a spark of joy
- - -
whatever it is,
it stands no
chance to light up my
waves of darkness

hold a cigarette up
to my oxblood lips
ash falling down
my diamond-studded wrist

I'm the siren
fire of your desire
live wire

tripping over in my
six inch stilettos
sipping on Prosecco
singing in staccato
all the words i wrote
&
all the songs
i want you to hear

all while the smell
of sweet Black & Milds
circles the strands of
pin up curls
that frame my
porcelain skin
and you caressing my neck
taking it all in.

like the wayward moon
and the woodwind tune,
i too fell in love with having
a life that has gone too soon

silver-lining
silhouette
cabriolé in the
lavender-grey
clouds
- - -
she was kissed
by the sun
and he watched her
pas de basque
-

when i lay awake
by the bay window
facing the ocean
that ripples the
reflection of the
moon above

i wonder why we
spend all our lives
crying false cries
at walls and lies

when we can escape
to the ocean
or the mountains
where mother earth
shows us how beautiful
she can be.

then i remember
its a luxury for
those who steal from others
or descended from thieves
that are worthy
of seeing her beauty.

the rest of us
have to settle
for the daisies
and day dreams
to remind ourselves
of her majesty.

somedays it seems very clear
that December is never dear
to me.

snow-kissed branches outreached
atop snow-kissed mounds of cold

crystals gently laying themselves
upon the silent earth outside.
a silence that can only be heard
when all shelter from the
falling flakes outside.
- - -
winter after winter
i always wish as it draws nearer

for a family warming their toes
around a crackling hearth adorned
with red stockings and an initial
of our names on each.

to be drinking mulled cider
and mull over musings of the
yesteryear together. all while
sneaking glances at the neatly
wrapped boxes underneath the
Christmas tree we wreathed a
day after Thanksgiving.
- - -
but my winters have no snow
and no Christmases worth
watching through a window.
my family is myself
and myself is sorrow.

grand & glorious,
& a little bit delirious
Chantilly lace
it's not my pace
my style is quaint
weary & intimate
it gets so tiring
trying to be inspiring
wondering where it leads
and when i can just be me

i want to throw
caution and responsibility
to the wind
and follow that wind
across the world
with not a penny
to my name.

It used to be us
against the advertisers
now,
we've become
the advertisers
brandishing every paper
that blows our way.

is this what it feels like
to feel like you are capable
of being human?

to wake up sweating & shivering
terrified & your lips quivering
about what may be
and what you may see

to love so deeply that
loss weighs heavily on
your mind

to pray so piously to
be the one for you
but failure keeps
you close by

is this what it feels like
to feel like you are capable
of being human--

'cause i think
i'd rather die.

the thoughts take hold
& don't let go
they linger in my head
& i can't put them to rest

they haunt me awake
they haunt me asleep
around and around
they dance
and put me
in a trance

where i can't
breathe or move
because they leave me
constantly wondering
what if?

i want to be magical,
mysterious & kind
while also doing speedball
in the bathroom line

it happens all the time
& i'm out of my mind.
no matter the season
i'm stuck in decline

i'm
different
even though
i don't want
to be.
- - -
i want to want
the money
power
& glory
that everyone
longs for
instead of wanting
to console
the inconsolable.

i want to want
the newest
Apple watch
& the hottest
Louboutin's &
to fly with Hermes.

i want to want
to be the
belle of the ball
& best friends
with Beyoncé.

but i
just
couldn't
care
any
less.
- - -
though
i wish
i would.