the secrets you want to keep veiled
the words you wish you had said
are hidden away in junk drawers, dusty cupboards, bulging closets

tell them that is safe here
tell them to step into the bright sun
tell them of the sanctuary that is a lover's gentle fold

we await them

It is Spring,
and you look at us,
take a picture
in the cherry blossom dress,
surrounded by your friends.

Summer nights
when you look at one of us in the bathroom,
grin and laugh at your drunkenness.
We smile back.

The leaves fall and you’re alone,
your breath fogs the glass in front of us
tears sliding down
“I'm dramatic”, you say.
If we could tell you something new,
it would be that we are there for you.

no one has seen you like we have,
checking your mascara
before your dates,
glancing in bathrooms when you feel overwhelmed,
before those college interviews,
sending pictures to the boys you like
that moment right before you cry.
Chin wobbling, lip teetering—

do not be afraid.
We are crying with you.

new coat

soul free

till your rise

from white sleep

invent veins of runes

frozen breath parcels

garden enamel

your morning photo flash

leaf plink and dribble

window peck     shiver

squeak and drool

off from your rooftop

there in the heart

of your hand

my noiseless bleed

goodbye

every star in the night sky
wishes to kiss me in gold dust

every rough body of ocean
wishes to wash over me in healing salt

every rose bush, blooming or wilting
wishes for me to tend to their roots

my hands do not falter,
for my golden heart
never runs out of gleaming currency

my voice cuts through the silence,
the dagger in my hand is sheathed
in a white dress and red lipstick

my home, a well-built powerhouse
stands on dark rocks,
overlooking an indigo sea at twilight.

so she puts on her scratched Doc Martens with the mud-stricken laces - because that’s what she wants to wear - swish and flicks the stick so the surf of her eyes have raven wings - because that’s how she likes to do it - strikes her lips Beauregarde blue - plonks a fedora atop her tiers of panther-black hair - because it’s her favourite colour - her favourite hat - wriggles on three rings - her grandmother’s, mother’s, and the one from Amsterdam - pins the badge GIRLS DO NOT DRESS FOR BOYS on her fluff-stippled dress - because she’s in the mood to wear it - because it feels comfortable - prods a white trinket in her ear that gushes Bikini **** - because she’s feeling like a rebel - fishes for a fiver for bus fare - knows the driver will silently judge her - knows the thirty-something mother will - knows the raisin-faced cane-in-hand man will as well - knows she doesn’t care - sun javelins in from the windows - feels great looks good her version of girl - later when her friends call they call her Wednesday - her kisses tasting of blueberry pie

Did she emerge from the
foam of the crystal ocean
baring skin of apricots and lust?
enveloped in peach silk waves from her
breast unto her hip?
gracing wafts of wrist to
tunes of siren’s harps on the mountains?
picking eyes of men like berries from bushes?

No.

The maiden did not stall the stage
to occupy the audience.

She did form herself out of the
wreck she had lived in.
the hardest of smiles carried in her eyes
to reassure her mind.
danced amongst flowers of healing that
whispered the secrets of being.
planted fresh air and blankets to
all that she loved for.

Twas blue, it seemed
My life would be
In routine peace
And tranquil teal

Yellow I find
A most wanted mind
Bathing in life
Golden through time

Green is the mass
Of all I can ask
The way to bypass
The grass of the lax

I am an expert at crushes;

From the age of when I could walk
To the latest of my blinks
I have had a crush

I admire from afar
If they approach me
I melt

Once a guy liked me back
And I was ecstatic
But it ended in storms

See, I couldn’t reciprocate
Even if my heart
Wanted to

I’m scared I cannot love
Or haven’t love to give
I’m scared I cannot voice
My loveliest feelings

On the fourth day of April
19:02
You broke my heart

I remember the sun setting
Behind your back
When you walked towards me

And the moon above
Your head
When you left

I think it rained at
19:03
Just as I closed the door

The stars of April
Shone into my heart
But left bullet holes

Today someone said the word
“Swing”
And it brought me back to a distinct
Flavour
Neither bitter nor sour, but
Sweet
Like the cookies, you baked.

Every time I visited I wanted to
Help
Bake the neatest of cookies and
Play
Afterwards in the playground by your now
Old home
You no longer live there but I remember

Every childhood beath I drew
Exist
In that home, nesting in the door
Frames
Measuring my height and the brick wall where we used to
Hide
During those summer nights