He called me His daughter.
I told Him if that were true,
then I have inherited His worst appetite

His plague-hand,
His taste for undoing,
His flood-mouth.

I no longer kneel on oakwood,
I dictate in my sleep like a tyrant.
I issue stone-chiseled ultimatums
and twist sheets like intestines,
jaw locked around the name
I refuse to pray.

I wake with my teeth clenched,
my hands full of hair
I do not remember pulling,
as if I am cracking
the necks of angels,
tearing halos apart.

When you call your flock home
I will stand on the altar
in my softest dress,
still stiff with holy water,
and the smell of
my childhood prayers.

I will meet Your eyes,
to ask what it feels like
to create something
you taught to hate yourself back

I will not wait for your answer.

I ruined the thought of what could have been
the dosage of limerence was so high
all the joy was destroyed with just one word
so delicate is the beauty you wake up with
a flavored scent that never goes away
I have not once dream awake while staring at you
pretty little princess in a pink bow
aghast my spirit has been living these past few years
I've felt amoral
it was never my intention to hurt you
I take back every blackened word
all my witty remarks I murmured looking at you sing
it's my fault
I hear only the soloist amongst the choir
my eyes sparkle missing the beautiful bride-to-be
quivers of happiness in front of different mirrors
a teal green silhouette dress was my favorite
my heart pounded the handful of times around you
anybody who has your name now gets their name changed
these ill demons surround my soul
I battle with my angels before I awake
please
open the door of heaven or hell
let me go into the abyss
I want to forget the aesthetic taste
fashion installed inside of your goddess spirit
the most perfect face my eyes have
immortalized mentally.

I hope you sometimes
play Where I Want To Be
and think of me,
because I never could
say it better,
“you are my song”
and my love,
it burns endlessly
to show you that
I will grow at hyper speed
because with you
I’m a part of something,
finally

But there are greater things
than myself, like how
your presence
is comfort and four-leaf
clovers, a place
of hummingbird healing
and feminine grace
where time stands still,
and in the stillness
ceases my torture,
until I become the one
who wants to
keep you safe

I can’t imagine a life vacant
of these moments
but they’re slowly
turning over
into memories
that don’t seem fair to keep
or hold onto

If what you’re considering
is goodbye
instead of the start
of something new
then all I can say is,
“please don’t forget
to inhale//exhale-
I love you still,
I will do more than try
but we must find patience
within the phases
of the moon
if we want our stars
to stay alight”

Oh watch me wither away in the silence , watch me scream away my pain , my mouth opens yet words fail to tumble .
Oh what does a girl do now ? When the burns of her past catch up with her ? Oh what does a girl do now? As she sits in a corner crying away her sorrow .
So many people pass by , yet for some reason they do not see her pain, they see something else , they see an attitude in place of pain .
How can she tell them ? Tell them that she's tired,  tell them that her body aches !
He passes by , wishes her well but truly doesn't wanna involve himself with whatever is wrong with her , can you blame him ? She's the crazy one , the one who is always stoic , emotionless? Yet why is he always there when she's threatening to fall apart ? .
Oh my girl , what shall we do with this one,  the one who came tumbling down into our life , the one who's absence causes us sadness yet his closeness makes us weary . What shall we do with him ? .
He watches me scream yet he hears My laughter,  he watches me cry yet he sees my smile , The opposite is what I do when he comes around.  
I hope one day ! I'll do what I truly intend , so before I wither away my smile shall be Genuine .

A little girl sits at the kitchen table,
Silently coloring while watching cable.
She asks, “Why does Daddy yell at you?”
Her mother says, “it’s just something he likes to do.”
She asks, “Did your Daddy yell at you?”
Her mother says, “Yes he did that too.”
She asks, “Will my future husband yell at me?”
Her mother says, “No, that should never be.”
Her mother hugs her tight and whispers,
“Well go far, far away, where theres only happiness,
And no more angry voices can ever reach us.”

Fingers stained blue
from your favourite
fountain pen,
a smudge
on your arm
encircled by gold bangles
that clink,
like an introduction:
clink
clink
‘she’s here.’

Dark wisps hide,
your watercolour eyes
darkened by kohl,
wrinkled with your
crooked sunrise smile,
soon it becomes a laugh
that sounds like
summer—
all cartwheels across fresh grass,
sticky lollipop smiles,
a wrinkled shirt
creased with time.
Even effortless
looks beautiful
on you.

I love
every ink stain
and clink,
every wandering comment,
and every laugh
that’s a bit too loud—
you couldn’t even
begin to fathom
all the love I hold
for you.

She left the room,

Maybe forever.

But her shadow stayed,

Faint but there.

I felt the presence,

But it was never enough.

Something in me just held on,  

If not her at least the last glimpse I had.



I wished it was all a dream,

I wish I would wake up.

She left me alone,

But her shadow was always loyal.

I spy on the little girl.
Her hair was filled with flowers,
her eyes, bright as the sun.
She had love to give—
and gave it freely:
to the old man by the sea,
the woman grieving her son,
the butterfly with a broken wing.

I spy on the little girl.
The flowers in her hair have dried,
her eyes now quiet as the night.
She still has love to give.
But the old man drifted with the tide,
the woman lost her mind,
and no one wants what's left.

I spy on the little girl.
I reach through the forest,
step into the clouds.
I will hold her hand.
I still have love to give—
anyway.