Turn off the music,
stop that constant doing.
Look it in its bloodied teeth:
This broke us.
This was far too much.
We don't know how to be a person after this.
We can't even seem
to comb our hair.

All we have now
are all these pieces.
We kneel in the shards,
and feel the remnants cut,
and wail about our scarred images
and cancelled plans.

We don't know what to do
when we're shattered,
but maybe if we can just
feel this breaking,
without lusting for
the once-****** whole,
we can grow quiet enough
to hear the laughter:

for the neighbor kids
have already begun
stringing our pieces
into bracelets that say Love.

An old man is scattering
our fragments in the park.
People delight
as the pigeons descend.

A salesman peddles our scraps
door to door,  and makes enough
to finally pay the bill
that turns the lights back on.

A tailor makes a sweater
of our mistakes, while a baker
turns our heartbreaks into bread
for a different kind of breaking.

Come to the window,
these new friends call.
See what our brokenness has become.
Our pieces are raining from the sky
and quenching this parched earth.
People are dancing  in the streets.

Close your eyes and listen
to the laughter and the rainfall
of what our pieces teach.

Give me something that hurts.
Write me a poem that burns a hole
through the very page it rests upon.
Tell me a story that makes my soul

fear the unholy retribution
it hasn't even begun to earn.
Establish a word that, when spoken,
defies the very forces permitting the world to turn.

Stab me with something sharp.
**** me with something vile.
**** me with something evil.
Ruin me so that I may live.

Take me into a world where death is
welcomed. Not out of acceptance, but
of fear. Fear of the rope, the culling.
Lock me I'm a box and neglect me.

Can I **** you if you're dead walking?
Stupid question, who could entertain
the notion of ending your motion?
as if stopping the tide to spite the ******* moon.

****** me. Satisfy your sadistic
belief that despite all logic,
I am the sole origin of all suffering.
Set me free.

I wish I could crumble away into stardust.
Become one with the universe again.
Let the voids and supernovas consume me.
I hope I am reborn again.
Into something better than I could ever hope to be.

bury her
the imposter
posing as you
bury the actors
posing as your friends
bury the rules
that left you for dead
unscrew the hooks
put them in the ground too
and what the hell
bury the hatchet

you choose them
own that
now disown them
disown them all
they were never yours
anyway
they served you once
now you're done
go ahead
bury the dead

pile in the dirt
shovel by blessed shovel
pack it tight
dance on their grave
howl, spit, laugh, cry
go on
bury them

from now on
celebrate what remains
that's your ticket
take flowers
take a limo
whatever
but take yourself back
just do it
go on
bury her

I stare at the eyes
of the man with no face,
his fingers like tendrils
that weave mortal fates.

A long slender tongue,
which doesn't exist,
slides into my mouth
and I cannot resist.

A pitiful yelp,
and a desperate gasp,
serve only to feed
our vile attack.

Into my throat
we continue to ******,
penetrating the mind
while defiling trust.

But I'm no longer me.
With a flick of my wrist,
I dispose of my corpse;
I no longer exist.

I arrive at this rebirth,
a long-awaited taxi pulling up
in a winter’s downpour.
I called this cab years ago,
at that first tiny self hatred
that started it all:
When I stepped on that caterpillar
outside Ms. Harris' class.

The cab arrives at a party.
Small mouths pry:
What do you do?
Heavy brows furrow at:
I forgave myself today.
Strangers ask me my name but
I don’t know what it is so
I dive into the pool
and suddenly everything
is muffled and at peace,
and I am discovering the joy
of my hands
outstretched in the water.

This must be *******:
colors pulse
touches ******
bird songs are Vivaldi,
or maybe this is just
what it’s like
to clasp my hands
to hear the rain
to think one single mundane thought
without shame.

I hail another cab,
but this time my sins
are huddled in the back seat.
They gaze up at me
with familiar pleading eyes.
They caress my cheek
with skeleton fingers.
It’s time to go home
and watch the Price is Right
like we always do.
They are hurt
that I went anywhere
without them.
I stroke their oily hairs
and hold them
as we fall asleep.
But when I come to
they’ve faded away
and I awake
embracing myself.

Dear family and friends
I'm letting you know why I choose him So continue supporting me by the time this poem ends

He is the male image of me
His flaws I can't see
The one man who treated me like his queen
Opened doors for me when I felt low regardless of who seen

Just so you know He is my King!

A magnificent result of pain and sweat
A realist since the day we met
No ones opinion should matter unless I let
For giving me his son I am in debt

Forgiving unfaithfulness I portrayed
Looking past my substance abuse ways
Knowingly loves me despite my ugliest days

Like the sun a male image with powerful rays

Against all odds he is still alive
Like a swimming pool, in him I dive
The fight within us makes us survive
The fire I needed ONLY he can revive

When I stand firm and fight for someone and something
The father to my son so don't complain

Don't ask me why and don't criticize
He has become my life even with strife
It don't have to be on paper to know I am his wife

We want peace and love together
Through all storms and all weather
Burdens light as a feather
Authentic just like leather

Sincerely, the old me; saying good bye
Dear friends and family the New Jinn is clearly ALIVE!

Hopeful eyes, darting and piercing about the terrain, strain to depict a clear scene through the flurry of snow dancing and sparkling in the crisp morning light. Glistening lips exhale a puff of warm breath into the icy sky, leaving a cloud of whispers and songs trailing through the vast expanse of atmosphere. Ruddy cheeks, sprinkled with freckles and the shadow of holy kisses, glow a soft pink as a prancing wind caresses the rosy skin. That same wind throws a mess of wildly curling locks, dark as a chocolate fountain, into an unashamed dance as they bounce and jolt with every twist and step. The cascade seems it's own living being, the way it flies just behind those hopeful features, always a step behind, yet perfectly in time with the song that pours from those tender lips. Two small feet, safely nestled in their snug boots, tingle with the sensation of each step as they flit down a snowy path, looping round and round, lost in the sway and rhythm of the music that now swirls with the flakes. A heart, locked in safety, beats wildly against the bars holding it in place. A flash of memory sails through a beautiful mind: a memory of that heart, twisted, blackened and cracked. That mind was polluted, small wrists bore the scars of the pain within, bleeding out. It was a season of darkness, pain, fear and loneliness. But that was then. The weight of the now golden heart is almost too much to bear. Two desperate lungs burn with each breath, sweating palms are strained with clutching a pile of books to a heaving *****. Dancing feet are stilled; jade green eyes pierce the heavens with their gaze, searching for someone in an eternal expanse. For the briefest of moments, a glimpse of His splendor is seen. His whisper in the wind, His spirit in the snow. His imprint on the ground, His fond gaze resting upon the source of his affection. As His bride glides on down the path, the soul within is bathed with light, joy, and hope; full beyond measure by the knowledge it holds. She is His. I am Yours.