Charlotte I'm so glad
that your          voice
                and freedom
were found
but now I feel
it is time to find
my
                                         own.
     -the tried and true of growing up

there are very few people in the world who will ever truly understand you
so let them say what they want, you are not in control of the way you are perceived
don't allow temporary people to explore your soul
the depths of you should only be welcome to those who can appreciate the valleys you've walked and the scars you wear like tattoos
there are people that will praise your failures and hope you stay tethered to the pain of your past
I hope you understand these are the ones that need love the most
I hope you learn to give it from a distance
you'll find that it is necessary to let things go, people too
you'll find that burning bridges isn't always a catastrophe
I hope you learn to love the sound of walking away from what is no longer meant for you
you were made for more than this

You

make me laugh;

wipe my tears;

hold my hand;

see the person I am . . . and the one I am becoming;

dig me;

are patient and kind;

know I’m a force of nature;

communicate best without words; and

manifest dreams with me.

I

celebrate you;

listen to you;

know your heart by looking into your eyes;

anticipate your needs before they arise;

connect with you deeply;

think you’re super cool;

cover your blind spots;

am your fountain of positive mojo; and

belong to you.

You + I = enduring love. I am ready for you.

She sat beside herself and asked,
“Do you know where this feeling’s from?”
Her self stared back at her, unmasked,
And wondered who she had become.

Who but herself could ever know,
These things she thought that she once knew?
“I barely know you now, and so,
When was the last time you were you?”

The two of them, just her and her,
Each tried her best to understand.
Her self said, “Why are you so sure
You’re not exactly who you planned?”

“I wanted to be you instead,
Before you filled me with regret.”
Her wounded self smiled back and said,
“Perhaps you haven’t been you yet.”

life is but a cruel game
where we live each moment
always missing someone

I talked to a Serbian man
at the bus stop going home
told him my mom died
on the solstice this year
the longest night that never
would become day for her

he said his died when he was 50
that he wept like a child then
tears formed in his pale eyes

though this game seems unfair
that no one close to us remains
we only borrow one another
life is not a game played for keeps
we exchange time for experience
and life itself for memories

Poetry is the string
         looping through and
         weaving out
the needling pain

It knits a beautiful
         patchwork, coated with
         colorful patterns
our fingers trace

threads of our lives
         create designs
a shining::
shimmering::
or dulling
our emotions blend.

Static with words that speak the familiar,
Narrowest thoughts spoken so many ways,
Bare novel spark in the particular,
A tireless writer with nothing to say.

A thousand new words are no less banal,
When a writer is content just to be,
When the compulsion to write is his all,
He writes with no responsibility.

To lose that will is to lay down my pen,
To no longer betray the written word,
Writing not a thing until the moment when,
Something new inside deserves to be heard.

Unique thought must precede what is written,
Needing to write is to seek depths to plumb,
That awesome task with which I am smitten,
Is never to be, but always become.

my body is dynamic, in flux
you touched me and I was reborn
nerve endings rebuilt stronger
the outside changed too
hair colour through rainbows
makeup for every mood sparkled
sensory systems grew and changed
immortalized by your lips
with your fingers on my skin
connections newly created
yet so familiar and at peace
eyes wandering over your face
one I had loved so intensely
now my moon no longer recognizes
the wrinkles formed at the corners
when I smile or laugh or play
you loved me as I was, once
though every part of me replaced
shifted and altered to becoming
unrecognizable or similar
to when we had first met
I was made new because of you
while you believe I am the same
after everything had changed