It’s a crime
to paint such flowers
with so crude a brush.
Your skills, my lord,
confound me
and I present myself
to you humbly.
Your fingers are
calloused
and jagged, their edges
can cut if you’re not careful.
You touch so soft
your skin to mine
and I sizzle in your grasp.
You are the warmest
part of me and
even you are now
embers, but it is not
my duty anymore
to stoke the ashes,
as deeply as I wish
you would burn again for me.
A flick of the eyes
and a trick of the tongue
are welcomed warmly
by my singing heart.

Crawl your way up
the bitter earth
Break open
And breathe

There’s a world out there
for you to see
but first
you must learn
to weather a storm
to swim a sea ...
and grow as if you were a tree
each day, everyday

you must live
like it is the beginning
as if the story has
just  started
and you are the master of your own mystery  

So, gather your soul
wait for the sunlight
stay rooted,feel the breeze
on your warm skin

And Breathe ...

In this day and age, there are standards of learning, not standards of living
We are told you must "live to learn" not learn to live in a world that is dominated by test scores and letter grades
What college you attend and what fraternity you're in
It's keeping up with Jones' and pretending to be someone you're not
to fit in, to win so we stay in disguise
But at the end of the day, it's a thick veil of lies.
We chalk up our life to things people think we should be
But what is it about me that people need to see?
That I'm a daughter...a sister...a warrior
Or I'm a son on the run with ambition in my veins.
We've got so much more to offer than the grades and projects we sustain
So look at me...can you see me through your red pen marked haze that I'm more...I am more than a score

Honey colored gem,
a resin relic;
sweet suspension
of past to present.

There is always a moment when you pull away from a hug. That is the moment when a kiss would occur, should the situation call for it. It is the moment when only your heads and torsos have pulled away. Your feet stay in place, tucked between each other in a pattern on the ground, and your hands stay where they are, but draped loosely instead of holding on tight. For a breath of time within this moment, you are in middle school. Your date to the dance sways across from you, your hands around her waist and hers around your neck. Neither of you know enough to hold on to each other, this is just how you dance. But you know to hold on now, in this hug. In this moment. There’s nothing you want more than to hold on. To lean in and make something count just a little bit more. The hesitation lasts longer than any breath you’ve held under the surface of a chilly lake in late May. It takes more air than you could win back in a lifetime. Hesitation rules for a synchronized blink of your locked eyes before it pushes them away from each other and your hands lose the grip they finally learned, giving up on what they longed for. Maybe your cheeks are pink. Maybe they’re used to this. And maybe you’re crazy, but you didn’t think you could miss the smell of someone’s spit.