late nights by the fire
sipping on hot chocolate
under a fort of blankets and pillows
drunk on laughter and
high on love

we danced in the moonlight
          (i apologized too many times for stepping on your toes)
we ran through sprinklers and
wished upon shooting stars
you kissed me like never before
you held me like you were going to lose me
i could feel your heart beat as you drifted to sleep on the floor
i love you more than the sun loves the moon
i'm never in the dark when we're together
your passions burn like the sun
you guide me in troubled times
you carry me when i can't stand
i got lucky when i met you
my heart hasn't been the same since

The fan is on, the constant hushing sound adding rhythm to the room
I can hear the hum of cars passing by outside my window
a added sense that I am not alone even though I am here by myself
Novembers cooling touch has crept in
nipping at my toes, drying my already dry pale skin
my favorite time of year when life seems to slow down, putting a glow on the usually bland days
here in my bed under the warmth of my flannel blankets all is right with my world
but my brain still finds something to bring the anxiety out
I thought if I started writing down my thoughts on paper it would lessen the night time stress
but then I stress about not writing on the nights I forget
the streetlight outside my window flashes a constant shadow on my wall
and I find comfort in that
something about the added light on my wall is friendly, familiar
when my brain finally shuts off I fall into dreams of my past
of people I haven't seen in years, all the stories blend into one
repeating like a rerun
at least I still have dreams
even if they're only in my sleep

I have an ocean of blankets forming warmth in my bed but I
am still shaky. Frantic. With whatever my heart--
going off like an Olympian's--has been feeling lately.
To which I wish I can choose not to oblige, at least more than I
get to do so in contrast to when I do to my brain. But
you have been visiting my mind too often and too much
back from the moment I saw you out of the corner of my eye
(...)
If I ever had you.

December
and anyone in the
woods could see the five
idiots on the back deck.

wrapped in blankets
and circled up like
Indians who drink cranberry
Canada Dry ginger ale.

Saturday afternoon
empty house
i wish i felt
different.

sunshine flickering
through the steam between
my fingers and over the
furry blanket.

i've always liked looking
out the back windshield
with swollen eyes at
what i'm leaving behind.

home again and
nothing is different
it's just i've
gotten worse.

and i'm crying
when it hits me
i'm finally
alone.

but i have a
blanket to wrap
myself up in
so everything's fine.

I shun happiness not voluntarily
but in the way one's covers
slip off in the night
I never chose this misery
instead I awoke
cold and alone
aware I was unprotected
but in a sleepy haze of apathy
I accept my fate
vulnerable to the darkness
that surrounds my every thought

I call to you in whispers
when I flick off the lights
and turn my blankets into a cocoon.
Maybe you’ll hear me one day.
If not, at least I can say that I wanted to find you
and my hands that brush my lips to pull my blanket towards my face
will tell you the same story –
a night does not go by that I don’t whisper to you.
The shadows expect it of me these days;
they wait to hear me call to you
and artfully etch my words with inkless golden feathers
onto my bedroom walls.

Going to sleep
is the best thing
a person can do.
After a long day of work
just slip under the covers
clean, wrinkled, soft and daring
the night a comfortable pillow
in which to rest sleepy tired eyes
while finishing a dystopian sci-fi movie
taking place in the desert.
Furiosa takes the night
across her shoulders
black engine grease smeared
across her forehead as Mad Max
rides shotgun
before the heat consumes them.
Enjoying every sand crusted
machine cranked thrusted
water tank bomb shell.
She is the best kind of heroine
taking complete control
of the current situation.
But sometimes there’s a break
when the dusk becomes depth
merging into the white halo of moon
slivered like a cut thumbnail
just hanging there, lifeless.
And this is when
the truth becomes
completely apparent.
Resting one’s body
after a tough week
of physical and emotional sickness
becomes first priority
where relaxation nods its weary head
to slumber under a pile of blankets.

Do you ever want the best for me?
Ever realize, that I struggle with emotions,
With being out in reality, with interactions of strangers and foe
I put my cards in one basket, twice.
They bluffed.

Would you?
Call mine?

The record subtly spinning,
Music has always accompanied my psychosis
Makes me feel tall.
Just the interior monologue of my youth and the days I was never around

I’m all full
Filled up with yesterdays
And regrets

Where is my hero?
To save me from tears and blankets
To hold my hand when I sleep,
And make sure I believe in Ever After