i am leading an undefined life
on a kite string
full of fake faces, staged greetings,
and smiles
that don't quite extend to the eyes.

it is as full as a predated diary kept until now.

my childhood went missing in rose gardens
and the space between
the goals.

i had a chalkboard that wouldn't erase.

i have read between the lines of love notes
i have read emotion in only seven letters
i have read passion in fourteen keys

i thought i was untouchable
              ...and i was...
                         but not unwillingly.

i got caught writing nursery rhymes
on my desk
           in the middle of an exam.

and now, at eighteen, i have seen
the carriage stop, and slowly drive away.

i have heard the beauty
in john cage's
four minutes and thirty-three seconds.

i don't know why, but i have chopin's
nocturne in E-flat major
stuck in my head.

i hate not being able to say the right words
          when i need them
instead of when
                i find them.

i love the woven metal
embracing my finger;
       that makes us almost sisters.

i've lost a heavy golden crucifix
     with an anchor as its back,
and a tiny bundle that tore me up inside.

i'm looking for a fireman
named greg
just to see how he's doing
since 1997.

i wish that everything i wrote would become truth,
    because then
          i could make people come back.

and my heart is strong.