I think she is made of clay. She doesn’t eat or drink. Sometimes she cries a tear for me. Never for us. I shower her in kisses, silk dresses, in jewels. She does not move from her place above my bed. She doesn’t even smile. It isn’t about me but it is. I was too late. I was not enough. I am left with loss and a memory and jewels multiply in my hands so I stuff them in the caves of her collarbones. Her. Not her. A crown appears above my pillow. The clock’s last golden tear slips into the sewage pipe. I ***** rubies and the door does not open anymore. I am the mine and the miner and you are the Madonna, a treasure chest of blood and breath. You are a taker. You drain me. Diamond teeth glint in the streetlamp shadows. I cannot sleep unless in blackness. Suspended over my bed you are the afterfumes of all my dreams. Sometimes I break the spell and you shatter on the floor. I weep, I stamp until my feet are starry pulp, I fall and it is a dance. Quartz grows in crystals in my throat. It is hard to speak. I weave you a new silk dress from rain that falls from the ceiling. I will you back to life. I ask you to forgive me. I forget you are a puppet. In the evening a soft green tear lands on my cheek. It isn’t mine. A crown appears above my pillow. I do not know who it is for.

your heart is banging
against your chest
the end of your quest...







you've found the best

My mom would accept me eventually,
but she would be rude when i started to do social “abnormal” activities

My dad and I don't talk.

Which I find kinda funny, because even though my sister is older and has more memories of the man, she doesn't think of him as a dad

I’ve always accepted him, when he made me laugh, when he took me to the movies, when he scolded me, when he even forgot me at  the mall, when he told me he loved me, when he made me cry, when he came home… when he didn’t

My dad doesn’t talk to me

I thought our relationship was built off love,
not the way I throw a ball or who I hangout with.
I thought our relationship was built off trust,
Not what I wear, who would I would marry

That man will always be my dad
But I’m no longer his son

Oh darlin' you think too much of me
I ain't sensitive
I ain't steady
I ain't kind
and I ain't somethin' to be tamed

I like you in my own way
but my bones ache to wander the wide empty prairie
which frightens you
but thrills me to the depth of my soul.

I don't got your morals
and I sure as hell ain't gettin' 'em soon
you can't hold me down
but have some faith sugarplum:

I'll come back to you.

last night you called
whispering past mistakes
hanging up before you blurt out a catastrophe
How numbered are the times you've listened to my own earthquakes

Healing isn’t a rapid art,
it takes time
to look your trauma in the eye
and welcome it home
but mine was already well alive
and he slept next to me in bed
like a hungry dog.

When I came out to my mother
she told me to avoid the dogs
that would come my way
but it wasn’t till I loved him
that I could see
a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

you are the burn of cigarette smoke
painful, tearing at the insides of my body
yet i need you, i always crave you
smiling as you rush through my body
you can hear me screaming for help
yet i am silent
there is no sound, no movement
only the tears that drip from my eyes
a waterfall, slowly being drained of every drop
i look up
you are my detriment
and cigarettes only burn for so long

you held my hand under yours,
as you shifted between gears.
"i love you" the words spilled out,
it felt right, it felt safe.

i was never one for short lived romances,
but that isn't what you promised me.
"i love you" you repeated,
making sure i felt the security.

but the calls became shorter,
and i felt the tone turn cold.
"i love you" i said with a hole in my heart,
but you said it back and that was enough.

i wait on the text that never arrives,
i know you've been really busy.
"i love you" three of the only words,
you managed to say to me today.

maybe i'm not enough for you,
it's starting to feel like you're bored.
"i love you" i'm saying it because i mean it,
why are you saying it?

I remember putting on my white dress,
trying to hold back tears from stress.
I knew deep down that I never wanted to walk down that aisle,
but my feet kept moving with a perfect, fake smile.

I put all my faith in God above,
and I even prayed to feel His love.
Because all I wanted was to do the right thing,
and I truly believed that getting married to a man would fix everything.

One year later I am back where I started,
but this time with divorce papers feeling cold-hearted.
I never wanted it to end this way,
and how naive of me to think I was strong enough to stay.

Now I just want to hug my mom while I cry out,
but she is disgusted with the fact that I came out.
I am filled with tears of hatred and shame
because I lit up my life with an irreversible flame.

I asked for this.
I asked for all of this.