When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

Unwanted Shelves


When I fall down, 

Orphaned between two safe places,

Don't throw me a rope.

Watch me fall through safe space gently,

So I come back full grown.


When I rant,

Frantic about loss and death,

Hold back, wait

Let me ask you straight

For what I need.


If I leave your home

Like a frantic infant,

Dont put up shelves for me.

Or a child, not a woman will move in.

You've made a mistake,
and want to take it back,
but that's not possible,
it's out there now,
and you don't know what to do,
you can try to ignore the issue,
but that can build and grow.
You try to deflect,
but that can cause more problems than there was before.
You've thought about lying,
but if you're ever caught,
the devastation that follows will be too great to ever take back.
The only course ahead feels the worst when you must confront it,
you have to tell the truth.
Speak about what happened,
and don't look back.
Take the consequences of your actions,
because they really aren't as bad as you think they'll be.
If you're truly loved,
you'll be forgiven,
and if they can't get past your mistake,
then it was never meant to be,
but you have support,
you have those who will lift you,
and don't listen to those self reflections that lie,
listen to the outside forces that only want what's best for you.
You can always count on me to steer you right,
and correct your currents when they get too choppy,
just come by and ask any time,
I'll change course for you when the time is right.

she said she was broken
needed fixing
came for the fix
I said “look honey,
I don’t do clockwork”

aren’t we all a work in progress?
living is working,
and it doesn’t stop,
until we do.

improving a skill,
losing a habit,
and improving yourself,
are all ways we keep functioning.

however,
we can also
gain weight
sleep too much
pick up vices,
but that doesn’t mean
we’re not working.

we’re all incompleted
until we no longer exist,
on this earth.
i’ll forever be
a work in progress,
until progress
has terminated.
as will you.

Cello cords snap, slice, fresh
Wounds bloom next to old scabs
Rosy slits puncture through cotton gloves
With thread and time, they say
We’ll mend.
Intertwining blows face a silent war
Unwinded by a cannon salute.
Across the battlefield
Conductors pick up their batons
Holding ready
Waiting
For you to throw
The opening note
Waiting
For me to throw
The first Molotov
Shatters.
The trumpet hook screeches
A familiar overture blares
Confetti glass garnishes our drinks
Gasoline reek, whiskey aftertaste
A night of dancing dares.
We fall back
Into a bed of thorns
Composed by sleepless fights
We have not learned to knit or sew
Our petals dangle from the receptacle
Swaying to the chorus.