The cockroaches at last creep under the door.
Or maybe they have been here all along, and we have finally crept
into the world.

what, already
that aroma;
not a single spoon
of sugar:
the better
the awakening;
my coffee grinning,
shaking me

there's no way
to backtrack;
I'm sipping from b-cups,
kicking into gear...

flash forward;
(flesh in the background)
absentmindedly
chasing destination
instead of destiny,
always in a hurry

coffee drops
now drying up
disheveled,
the only ones
still keeping
memory of lips
retreating
like the waves
caressing shores
goodbye

long gone is
the reflection
undulating eyes

thoughts are perched
on mornings:
the old ones,
the upcoming...

The memory of this moment,
As I look upon your face,
As you look up to me,
Your head resting on the squabs;
The sun shine between the blinds,
And birds sing morning's song,
Will stay with me until
My heart no longer throbs.

I know you are the one,
My only everything.
All I could ever want to hold
Is here, in my embrace.
I feel the tide is turning
In favor of morning's song,
As I gaze into your eyes,
And passion is in it's place.

There is no unworthy burdon
You bring to my door.
No echoes of regret.
I need for nothing more.

The errand of my heart
Is to give into your light,
To give you all I am.
You are my paradise.

I did not come with an instruction
Like a box that says,
"Fragile, handle with care."

Most of the time,
I am quiet and alone with my thoughts.
Sometimes, I am louder than the trucks honking in the freeway.

I am the calm in the middle of chaos.
I am also the storm itself.
I like logic,
But live to defy it.

My stories may not be all rainbow slinkies and polly pockets,
But I know,
I am made of miracles and chilly Sunday mornings.

A bright blue sky washes over me and I forget,
Whatever pain I felt is only temporary.
It clings onto me for most of my night and remembers to punish me for everything I ever did right, for the wrong people.
My heart beats, races and I think finally, this is the day I leave earth and soar through the stars.
Maybe he could wish on me and realize I'm nothing, but dead.
Waking up in a tangled mess of hands and bed sheets, I'm reminded that my heart still feels alone and that no one can hold me as I break, piece by piece.
Self love is beautiful, but why does my want for someone to share it with, have to be so difficult?
Sometimes my love feels more like a burden than a blessing.
I have so much that my heart may burst out of its ***** and leave my body limp and blue.
A bright blue sky washed over me and I can't help but feel like the dark night has resided in me.
It has made a home within me and it refuses to leave because finally, It has something to cling on to that resembles comfort.
My chest is heavy and the bright blue sky dissolves into my worst nightmares.
I no longer feel the darkness, just blue.
This sadness drags me onto my feet, pretends to be me, and continues to address the darkness within me, as if a long-term partner.
Happiness is no longer festering within me.
I feel so much blue that my eyes beg for recognition.
No longer a soul projecting happiness, just one that pretends, hoping that someday, she gets what she deserves.

Sandals slapping ******* glued stone,
Sun hitting hard soaking my clothes,
I like to pretend Im alone,
Empty houses vacant windows.
Dog **** smell wafts from my plastic bag
Scraped from a  carefully manicured lawn

Dog pants pull me from bush to bush,
Past awkward neighbors with no eyes,
Cant talk now, always in a rush
Another encounter to despise.
The trees could take the houses back over
Birds bees and deer make for good company.

My boy is four and loves the dirt,
He loves to smell the sunflowers,
Pulls them from heaven down to earth,
To softly imbibe their powers.
I stop for a minute and bow to them
And breathe their delicate blessing as long as I can.