she studies his soft features
with furrowed eyebrows,
catching every detail
in the palm of her hand.
the palm lines show their story.

even as the chill of past souls
reverberates through my bones,
warning me to watch my back,
I want to join hands with a soul
and stare into its windows,
hear its ring of solid truth,
and feel its warmth on my skin.

the bittersweet word left my lips
but it kept the other words at bay -
the ones I could never, ever say.
I dragged those deeply rooted words,
pulling them until they wouldn't budge.
I wrapped them in my voice and let them go
until thorny feelings seized my legs
and dug into my soft, tender flesh.
my fingers bled as I separated the thorns.
they shrank, withering into the soil.
and once they did, I whispered, "goodbye"
for the second time, and I was finally free.

two adjacent piano keys
yelled over each other
for a moving spotlight,
a crinkle of the eyes,
and a sweet, tender smile.
instead, their noise
made ears beg for peace
until eyes glanced away,
and they were left alone
with their discordant sounds.

ink flows out of my brain
through my blood vessels
to my soft fingertips.
my hands curl into fists
as I crumple a sheet of paper.
a corner lightly cuts my finger,
and the ink flows onto the page.

than sweet moments suspended in time
like thick, dark, smooth molasses
resisting the strong pull of gravity
as it flows from a shiny silver spoon.

she wanted to paint over
the marks on her face
to create a blank canvas
so their eyes would not
drill holes into her pores.
but before she could paint,
two arms wrapped around her,
slowly turning her around.
her eyes were downcast
as he kissed her every mark.
"I love your constellations.
Please don't hide them,"
he gently whispered.
she pulled him closer,
leaning back onto the counter.
the brush fell to the ground
as they savored their sweet love.

the lion tiptoes in circles around her.
her mind spins in opposite circles
while the voice in her head yells "run."
but her limbs freeze and lock into place.
she hides her breath deep in her lungs,
staring straight into the lion's eyes
hoping it won't feel the fear in the air.
each second crashes onto her shoulders,
until the lion slowly saunters away,
becoming a small shape in the distance.

she walks along the trunk of the woods,
pausing when she sees branch-like paths
nonchalantly lying down in front of her.
each path sings its own song for her,
but the songs clash against each other.
she steps back and covers her ears,
then starts singing her own song.
she looks away from the other branches,
letting her voice guide the way
as she strolls along her own path.

the minutes roll past her like tumbleweeds
as her eyes meet the melting, setting sun.
but in the blink of an eye, the night falls
and the hour wraps its arms around her,
keeping her warm and safe in time's embrace.

for a split second,
the TV screen turned red,
followed by a shrill beep.
it was a small glitch,
too small to be noticeable,
so the television stayed.

the longer she watched it,
the more often it turned red,
the longer the high-pitched beep.
but she could never predict
when the glitch would happen,
and she waited for it to be normal.

eventually, she adjusted
to a perpetually red screen
and an irritating, shrill hum
until her friend came in,
asking why the screen was red
and where the noise was coming from.

she brushed it off,
claiming it was a glitch.
the screen stayed that way,
and the hum persisted.
her eyes slowly became weary,
and her ears started ringing.

her friend took her away.
her eyes and ears got a break,
and she saw a different screen,
one of many colors, showing life
in its beautiful and tragic moments.
she heard vivid, rich, musical voices.

she went back to her television,
exhausted, trying in vain to fix it,
but it would not change,
no matter how hard she tried.
questions bloomed in her mind
until it suddenly dawned on her.

this was never a glitch.
it was a complete malfunction.
her heart and head were pounding
as she held an antenna to her chest.
it weighed her arms down,
but she threw it across the room.

it crashed into the television,
and the screen went black.
the hum stopped, and all was quiet
except for her loud breathing.
she wept as relief washed over her
and she lay down, content at last.

as her glass heart beats,
it cracks little by little
as her chest caves in.
she closes her eyes.
her deep, slow breaths
restore her aching body
as her chest straightens.
the cracking suddenly stops.
her soul glues the cracks
and her heart is whole again,
stronger than ever before.

my eyes were downcast,
never meeting my reflection,
my body shrunk into itself
when shame embraced me.

I straightened my shoulders,
and shame got out of the way.
I kept my arms out, forming a bubble
that shame could never, ever break.

and once I did that,
I greeted the mirror,
and my reflection smiled
for the first time.

a statue quietly lurks
in the corner of my mind,
waiting until all is calm.
when the dark shroud
falls over the blue sky,
the statue comes to life
as a vicious, fang-bearing,
red-eyed, gnarly demon.
the demon pulls a dream apart
with its long, pointy claws,
injecting the shreds with poison
until they tangle up in each other
to become a tight, infectious knot
that can only be untangled...by waking up.

it climbs up their thin veins,
worming its way under their skin,
until it digs into their vulnerable minds,
controlling them from the inside out,
until they twist the life out of others.
the prey become the predators.

the flowers spread their limbs
basking in the sunlit glow
as the refreshing morning dew
caresses their curved leaves.
their vivid petals flirt
with the colorful sunbirds,
pulling them closer and closer
to the sweet, sticky pollen,
which rains all over the soil
as more flowers begin to wake up.

they may carry children
with cotton-candy-tinted glasses,
or adults who nudge the world
to align with their visions,
or the elderly who see a path
of golden light ahead of them,
or animals who always beam
around their fellow humans,
and...
they carry children with shoulders
that know the weight of the world
or adults who see their dreams shattering
all around them like a broken mirror,
or the elderly who can only see gray clouds,
wondering when the darkness will lift,
or animals who are suffocated by the noise
and crave the fresh air and blue skies.
these vessels carry more stories than
the number of stars in this infinite universe.

it let the bird fly,
learn, grow, change.
but when the bird falls,
stays the same, decays,
a thrill climbs up our bones
as the crack of the wishbone
echoes in our expectant ears
like a loud, resounding gong -
as our supposed fate awaits.

at the end of the afterlife,
when the dust finally settles,
she climbs into a warm bed
made of soft, wispy clouds,
listening to lilting melodies,
from her childhood memories,
falling into a peaceful slumber.

the glass broke through my skin,
piercing my heart over and over.
the agony brought me to my knees
as I carefully removed the shards.
the wounds sting, craving relief,
from a soothing, cool, light balm.
I slowly apply it, closing my eyes
as it enters the wounds on my heart,
bringing me comfort as I start to heal.

my hands brush over the wall,
guiding me through the room
as my eyes are blindfolded
by a thick, grey, opaque fog.

my hands stumble over every surface
until they glide over a smooth lamp.
the blindfold is taken off my eyes.
and I see my reflection staring at me.

I blink at the handheld mirror, bewildered
as my eyes pursue the direction of the light.
I look into the mirror, yelling "eureka!"
because my heart is glowing, even in the night.

is something I wish someone would have said when I was falling through the depths of hell and my spirit was being burned over and over again and my voice was eroding while they cast my pain aside and took my power away so they could feel comfortable. they forced me to stuff the feelings deep within my heart and look perfect for the pictures so they could feel comfortable. they kept pushing me more and more, even though every cell in my body was joining forces to keep me from falling apart, so they could be comfortable. my body and mind were wrung out and tattered, and I thought the only way out was to do it myself. i would have given anything for them to say "I'm worried about her" and actually DO something about it. but they wouldn't have been comfortable with that, would they?

the feelings became an engraved key chain:
its grooves were made just for me.
I hid the key chain in my back pocket,
shielding it from the side eyes,
but when the people saw it,
they took out their own key chains,
and the designs were very similar.
now my key chain is in my hand,
and I show it whenever I want.

he glued down a blue, square tile
to the bare, boring floor.
my purple triangle moved in
right next to the square
like it was meant to be there.
our hands kept the tiles in place,
then we took a step back,
and his arms surrounded me.
we did this every day
until the pattern became
our solid foundation.

before I step out into public,
I lock my opinions in a safe
that resides deep within
the ridges of my brain.
I wear a sweet smile
to mask the dull pain
radiating throughout my body.

but when I enter my safe space,
I strip myself of that smile,
and look my pain in the eye.
I dig into the ridges of my brain
to grab and unlock the safe.
I welcome my vulnerability
in all its undisguised nakedness.

a person with a mind and soul
made of colorful, vivid ribbons
quietly walks through the world.
she expects to feel the warmth
of their smiles on her face.
their eyes softly crinkle
when they're with each other.
when they walk toward her,
they grimace - every single time.
their voices fade until
she can only hear the sound
of her loud breathing,
feel the chill in the air,
and blink the tears away.

closing my eyes as the sunlight kissed the window
a blooming rose lightly caressing my face,
confessing his deep, passionate love,
wrapping his leaves around me,
protecting me with his mild, earthy scent,
loving me with softness and strength.

it presses my shoulder blades,
ties my neck muscles into knots,
then settles deep within my chest.
the pain is the first sign
that my body is haunted.
it then puts my thoughts
on a hamster wheel.
they run in circles
without an escape.
this is the second sign.
but my heart takes control.
it voices my thoughts
so they can be seen and heard.
it stops spinning the wheel,
slowly comes out of my chest,
unties the knots in my neck
and lets go of my shoulder blades,
and my body does not feel its weight.

my soul is a chamber
in which a candle sits.
a strong flame burned,
which kept me alive.

however, week after week,
the water filled the chamber,
putting the flame out,
leaving me cold and lifeless.

the water would dry,
and the chamber was empty,
except for a single ember
that glowed in the dark.

I lit matches every day
until I saw a spark.
now it fiercely blazes,
stronger than it's ever been.

I walk along a trapeze,
palms sweaty, legs shaking,
refusing to fall either way.
to go left is to fall into a fire
for a life which burns my bones.
the people will smile upon me,
oblivious to the ash surrounding them.
to go right is to fall into soft trees.
the leaves caress my skin,
but the people vanish like smoke,
and I fall to the ground.
the exact middle is survival
until I reach the other side.

as I'm living in my peaceful world,
an unfamiliar person enters.
he looks small from where I am.
"it looks like he's glaring at me."
"he seems like a bad person."
"I'm way better than him."
the thoughts hit the ground
as solid, heavy bricks,
and my heart pounds in response.
more bricks form a disjointed wall.
I step on the bricks as I climb.
I peek at him over the top
as he approaches the wall.
I notice his soft, kind eyes,
and his soul warms me up.
I slowly descend the wall. 
the bricks start to fall,
landing right behind us.
my heart stops pounding,
and it gently whispers,
"those bricks never fit together."
I give him a tender hug,
and I let him into my heart.

a memory wrapped its cold, rough hands
around my throat, squeezing it tightly.
as I tried to walk away, the memory
stuck its foot out, blocking my path.
I could only muster a pitiful squeak
as I fell face first onto the ground,
and the memory fell on top of me,
effectively holding my body hostage.
its hands were still on my throat,
but it was invisible to everyone else.
they only saw me fall to the ground.
they asked me what was wrong,
but I did not have air that could
breathe life into the powerful words
that were begging to leave my mind.
a sheet of paper suddenly appeared
underneath my right palm,
and a pencil rolled my way.
I gripped the sturdy pencil with
every ounce of strength I still had,
steadying the paper with my wrist,
and I wrote the words I couldn't say
so they would stop begging to leave,
even as the memory gripped my throat.
as I kept writing, I noticed the memory
stopped feeling as heavy on my body.
it was getting ****** into the paper.
it resisted at first, but after a while,
the memory slowly let go of me
and relaxed into the pencil marks.
when I had no more words left,
I picked myself up off the ground,
placed the pencil above my ear,
took the paper, hugged it to my chest,
and walked away with a smile on my face.

a little simile here,
a splash of metaphor there,
all carefully folded and mixed
to form a delicious souffle.

it goes into the oven
at the perfect temperature.
the souffle begins to rise,
the sweet aroma engulfs the room.

but the timer chimes early.
they take the souffle out,
and it sinks within itself,
forming a deep, large canyon.

but this souffle is different.
they put it back in the oven.
it bakes longer and longer
until it finally rises again.

fear is a tiny seed
planted in my lower belly.
my thoughts fuel the seed
to sprout with gentle ease.
its roots are finally free,
wrapping around my feet,
never letting me flee.
it grows into a nimble tree
whose branches strangle me.
the tree wears prickly leaves
that sting my aching body
until my eyes succumb to sleep.

fear is a tiny seed
planted in my lower belly.
the seed sprouts suddenly,
its roots extending toward my feet.
my thoughts are consumed by the seed,
which grows into a strong, sturdy tree
whose branches wrap around me,
paralyzing my whole being.

when her heart flutters faster
than the wings of a hummingbird,
his steady heartbeat anchors her
to the solid ground underneath their feet.

even as your heart drags you through the circles of hell
and your knees buckle under the weight of life,
a soft, confident voice rouses the parts of your soul
that nudge your spirit back into its natural rhythm.
you slowly rise, feeling the ashes under your feet.

for the first time in my life, I'm not hiding.
I stand with my walls down and my heart open.
my legs are shaking, and my breathing is shallow.

he wraps his arms around me to keep me steady.
my head rests on his chest as he strokes my hair.
I close my eyes for a moment, finally able to rest.

I look at him carefully, and I see no armor.
his walls are down and his heart is open.
his legs are shaking, and his breathing is shallow.

we hold each other until our love grows roots.
then we let go, and our smiles illuminate the world.
he takes my hand in his, and we walk together.

she stood in front of the headstone,
the past whispering in her ears,
encouraging her to remember the unsaid.
her strained eyes rested for a second
as she heard footsteps quietly approaching.

she looked up at the last person she expected to see
his eyes were rimmed with pain, his face stained with tears
he took one look at her, and he crumpled to the floor.
she stared at his heart, which, for the first time,
was weakly beating on his sleeve.
dagger-like shards poked out
atop numerous bruises and scars.

she took him into her arms, closing her eyes,
caressing his heart with gentle fingers
after a while, she whispered, "you okay?" and he said,
"I saw you here for years, and I couldn't approach you.
You would leave, and I would visit this headstone
right after you, and the sins weighed me down.
I finally had the strength to approach you today.
You can leave me here - it's your choice."

she looked directly into his eyes, tears streaming down her face.
her voice broke as she said, "I'm not leaving you here.
You can release these sins and we can walk together.
You can heal your heart, and I will stand with you."
she felt his heart pounding, saw the doubt in his eyes.
she stood up and extended her hand towards him.
he placed his hand in hers and rose to meet her.
they quietly prayed in front of the gravestone,
then walked away, hands intertwined.

behind them, the spirit -
the inhabitant of the gravestone -
smiled and began her ascent,
surrounded by the purest,
whitest, all-encompassing light.

I walked around, arms always crossed,
never speaking until I was spoken to.
I kept my head down, subservient to a ruler
who knew and preyed on my every weakness.

Lately, I've been fighting back.
My arms are outstretched, accepting what comes.
I released the anchors that sank my heart for years
without waiting for anyone's approval - only mine.

My head is held high.
The ruler can't weaponize the truth anymore.
My acceptance drained the poisonous power
of the ruler's previously potent weapons.

Now I am not ruled by anyone.
Try as they might, they'll never trap me again.
I'll never let them for as long as I draw breath,
and my spirit can finally soar to the greatest of heights.

"i think i'm over you. i still imagine telling you everything, but without an undercurrent of romantic love. in my mind's eye, innocent smiles replace the longing stares. hugs replace the imagined romance. honesty replaces the moments when my tongue was tucked away within my palm.
sometimes my mind sings a sad song, which sends chills through my body and cracks my heart in the right places. the pain seeps through, and it hurts to breathe.
yet as my eyes succumb to the quiet pull of slumber, i see the light. when i wake up the next morning, my mind is clear, and my heart is free."

to read my past journal entries is
to walk on an intimately familiar path,
one in which I know the major landmarks,
the steep mountains, and the deep valleys.

even though I can walk on this path
with my eyes closed and get through,
I don't. I slow down on the way,
noticing flowers I didn't see before.

I pluck a leaf off every flower stem,
and keep it safely between my palms.
the leaves remind me of the flowers
that grew despite the harsh conditions.

whenever I wish for a new beginning,
I blow on a leaf and let it guide me.
I smile, exhale, and walk forward.
behind me, new flowers are blooming.

he wanted to see if we were on the same page.
meanwhile, I was reading a different book.
its past chapters made me wince in pain,
which lived - unhealed - within me.
as his fingers lightly caressed the pages,
he whispered, "acknowledge the pain,
then close the book. you can't live like this.
we can get through this and read the same page."
I turned to the past chapters, heart pounding in fear.
instead of wincing and hurrying to the end,
I read those pages, absorbed every word,
understood the story, acknowledged its lessons,
and released it to make room for a new story.
then - and only then - I closed the book.
I kept the lessons and sat next to him.
he showed me the book he was reading from,
and now we're finally reading from the same page.

the present world
can pull you back in time -
sometimes a gentle pull,
sometimes a hard yank
to remind you of the past.

you take a trip
to meet your past self.
you watch her love,
grow, make mistakes -
she and you are one.

then you take a deep breath,
whispering a farewell
to your past self.
you walk through time,
returning to the present.

they burned my heart
over and over again
until the ashes fell,
slumping over in defeat.

even as pain radiates
through my entire body,
the ashes rise into a phoenix,
and my heart takes flight again.

whenever I stumbled and fell,
instead of helping me up,
they pushed and berated me,
knocking me down even further.
safety was never a guarantee.
I take each step carefully - too carefully.
wondering who can see my trembling hands
and feel my heart pounding in my chest.

now when I stumble and fall,
I push the helping hands away,
even though I want to feel
a hand in mine
more than anything.
I've come to expect sharp,
grating words from everyone,
even though not everyone is like them.

I pick myself up and hide
waiting until the storm settles.
sometimes when it all dies down,
I'm still not convinced that it's over.
I step out of my hiding place
and wait for the thunder.
I jump at every noise,
and I wince at every touch.

I want to have spaces in which
my body can relax instead of
looking for the next threat.
in which my hands are steady,
my heart takes a leisurely stroll,
and I don't have to hide.
in which I can tell myself,
"I am safe," and fully believe it.

life is a voyage across the sea.
you may end up in a storm.
you try to control your ship
when you hear the siren
taunting you with promises.

"you don't need to face this."
"there's an easy way out."
"you can give up."
"let the wind take you."
"what's the point of this?"

those promises are weightless.
you know the siren will lead you
into what seems like your paradise,
then throw you off the ship
and leave you to the sharks.

even as that voice tempts you,
listen to the hopeful voice inside you,
the one that reminds you of your power.
"it may be difficult right now,
but this storm won't last forever."

you can then adjust your sails,
tell your crew what you need,
and safely get through the storm's eye.
when you get through, the storm fades.
the sunshine warms you up, and you sail.

words trapped within thick layers of ice
are embraced by the warmth of spring.
they can finally breathe and be free.

life, for her, was a masquerade ball.
her purse was full of colorful masks.
each mask was carefully crafted,
designed to impress everyone else.
she was always watchful
with one hand in her purse
so she could switch masks.

he walked into the ballroom,
slowly approaching her.
she took off her mask,
fumbling in her purse
for a different one.
he caressed her arm
and shook his head.

the breeze tickled her face 
for the first time during the ball.
he quietly gazed into her eyes,
smiled to calm her racing heart,
then pressed his lips to her cheek.
they danced for the rest of the ball,
and her masks were never seen again.

with the others,
a tiny flame burned,
then went out.
she felt cold ashes,
which choked her spirit.

with him, and only him,
a flame consumed her,
and it continues to burn.
she feels a warm glow,
which frees her spirit.