If I weren't burdened,
with the weight,
of being a woman...
What would I do?
If each step I took,
wasn't visually measured
in the shake of my hips,
or the weight, of my *******,
tell me,

what could I do?

I'd scream, for you to chase me,
and run towards the surf.  
I'd throw myself, eagerly, upon its
cresting, ******* waves,
and lounge on top of bluest water,
floating idly by on its surface,
like a sleepy lotus flower...
dreamy, soft white petals,
stretched limberly towards the open sky,
and aching, for the kiss of sun.

I'd be unconcerned, and unaware
of the arch, of my back...
of the rosy fullness, of each cheek
as I bent, and knelt
between cascading water ripples
to capture pretty shells, and shiny stones
and present them all, to you,
with childish enthusiasm.

If I weren't burdened,
with the weight,
of being a woman,

I'd run, wild, through floral fields,
and hedge mazes,
as giddy, as a fairy.

I'd duck, under arboreal tunnels,
and climb, into the low-lying branches,
in the little copse, of trees,
and slumber sweetly
in its leafy canopies.
I'd immerse myself
between paperback pages,
as the wind steadily rocked me
like a babe, in its bassinet,
and the wind, whispered,
through vibrant leaves.

I'd rush out, to greet the rainstorm,
as its icy waters, folded over me.
I'd race, and run, and dance,
through puddles that split around bare feet,
and warbled, their enchanting echoes,
around the circumference
of saturated, joyful, ankles.

If femininity,
weren't the loaded gun
that presses my temple,

I'd wander, for hours, in pre-dawn streets...
blaring eighties music, like a wandering minstrel
down city streets and quiet, tree-lined roads,
until the bruisy, tangerine glow,
of impending sunrise,
gradually re-skinned my cheeks, and face.

I'd clamber across the overpass, to ogle the seasonal starbursts,
from up high,
in the blankest, blackest canvas;
fireworks screeching, screaming,

exploding, into new life,
thrown onto dark paper, like neon splatter-paint
Charring the ozone, to a hot, charnel glow
in an impossibly starry summer sky.

If womanhood, weren't the knife
they use to press my throat,

I'd spend the entire night under the stars,
gazing upwards, the way I used to.

I'd explore the navy breadth of midnight streets,
all its blues...nearly deaf, with resounding cricket chirps
nearly mute, beneath the busy squeal, of brown cicadas.

I'd travel for hours,
lost in a poetic passion,
just so in love, with things.
Dreamily gazing at a natural world,
with no strangers,
and no cars, following me
while my artistic eye,
drank in the atmosphere,
until satiated.

I'd climb poles, in sundresses,
clamber over fences,
explore the world,
and all of its understated beauty
without reservation, or end.

I could go anywhere,
I could go,
everywhere...
and never need a chaperone.

I'd think nothing of chasing dreams,
that suddenly grew teeth, or fangs,
and came after me,
like the main monster,
in a horror cinema.

I'd open up,

and freely speak,
to the people around me.

I'd never be too afraid,
to close my eyes, again
and receive a kiss,
at the end of a sweet date.

I'd feel pretty, to feel pretty.
I wouldn't try to hide it,
to chameleon myself into the crowd,
in the hopes that no one else,
would notice me.

I'd feel like family...was really family.

Smile so hard, that the mask I wore, would crack.

In short...
I would do all the things I used to do,
before someone showed me,
how dangerous it was, to live.

We pass each other in the hallways like strangers.
You look in my eyes, I look in yours—
We speak without words,
Because eyes say more than lips ever could.

Passing by you feels like passing a stranger...
But strangers don’t know—
your name,
your laugh,
your smile,
your birthday,
your class,
your eyes.
But now, you act like you never knew me at all.
I tell myself:
It’s done.
What’s done is done.
Maybe we weren’t meant to know each other.
But even after all that...
I still miss you.

I feel her calling out to me.
From the depths of my brain.
Her face I can no longer see,
And it fills me with such pain.

     She is clothed in beauty and splendor,
Filling me with curiosity.
Her silky hands, I do remember,
Would always embrace me.

     She wears a cloud of wonder,
And it goes where she goes.
Until that day of thunder,
When we reach the end of the road.

     I remember how she’d softly sing,
Her melodies hold me tight.
Wrapping me with warmth,
Through all the lonely nights.

     I feel her still here with me,
Though her face is now just a memory.
Yet, I still long to see,
Everything that she used to be.

     I want to pull her back to me,
And keep her there forever.


     But I can’t.

In the shadows of a dead city,
where feet tap cracked pavement
and broken fluorescents blink,
there hovers a sphere of soft glow.

You might call it the sky’s cheese,
but I call it a nightlight—
hovering low like a searchlight
for the ******.

Never spoken of
unless it’s full,
a beacon for a wolf’s howl,
an ear for your secrets
when no one else listens.

"We were never lovers.
We were two addicts sharing the same poison."

But only one of us overdosed.

i just wish
that you
would seek
the same comfort
that i seek in you

Suicide looks prettier at night

it convinces you that
The street lights
Will die
With you

Whispers in your ear
All the things you beg
To not hear

It reminds you of the things
You can never forget
Drills it into your skull
Until it's all that's left

It ties you up
Keeps you alone
Cuts off your fingers
And smashes your phone

It leaves you to sit by yourself
in the dark
To watch the stars
Cry themselves to sleep

It puts on some makeup to cover its tears
And speaks with you
about your fears

You tell it everything
How could you not?
It's so pretty and calm
the night sets the scene:

a romantic night

A knife on the table
And pills in the drink
A noose acts as our light
As we chat about things

You share your deepest secrets
And it listens, never talks
Let's you talk until your voice is lost

at the end of the night
It leaves with a kiss
But your still *******
And you start to miss
The company
Of suicide