Minimalistic ventures
  are more
full of meaning.

Than a room
full of
            false possessions.

we can love if you will kiss the needle
just a little bit bigger-
your image isn’t your most beckoning quality
just a little bit thinner-
we can sleep if you will follow
just a little less brain-
don’t stand loud love, it isn’t becoming
just a little more tame//
stand straight but think alike
don’t stray or wander from the path ahead
walk in unison and stay uptight
basically, loveables are brain dead.
you don’t belong here.

. . . I diluted myself for you
I spoke less and moaned more
I softened my spirit
I offered up yeses that once would've been no's
I held my tongue between *******
And wore pretty pink lace where there once would've been the blackest leather
I put fewer cigarettes between my lips
And instead pressed them together
To keep you from remembering
Why you didn't love me before
I put on an apron
To play my part
I served you smiles on dinner plates
And sipped white wine in place of whiskey
I put hearts in a lunch box
To keep you company through the day
Then mourned who I once was
While you were away

. . . I thought that if I was softer
More feminine
More pure
That you would be kinder
That I would fit better in your arms
That if I didn't talk back
My lips would taste sweeter
That you would listen when I spoke
I thought that if I became weak
We could be strong
That if slaughtered my Independence
And laid it to rest at your feet
That you would want to stroke my hair like you once had
When I stopped standing my ground
In the kitchen where I performed
And let the peanut gallery at the table
Critique my every adjective
Only to curtsey before their taunts
That when doors closed
You would whisper that I had done well
That your heart had space for me again
I thought that maybe if I hid it when I bled
You would leave the whiskey alone and finally come to bed

. . . But instead
I committed a ******
I killed the woman that I loved
I took a spirit and trapped it in a box made of yes dears and I'm sorries
By replacing her combat boots with pointe shoes
And her pride with warm baked cookies
I slit her throat with a knife made of compromises
Chained her ankles to the kitchen table and forced her to dance before lesser beings
I made an arrangement of the wild roses that made up her lips
And left her unprotected without any thorns
Then cut out her tongue and made her watch
in stunned silence
when you trampled through the garden with clumsy careless feet
I murdered the woman that I used to be
Sacrificed everything just to find that you never loved me . . .



. . . But fear not, even the goldfish who lies belly up can swim again . . .

The more I feel
The more you see
Difference has been set
but love comes to you and me
The less we talk
The more we hate
shared memories begin to fade
The less I talk
The more I think
love was never ours
efforts go down in the sink.