I like to believe that I'll wake up,
and it won't cross my mind.
That I'll go all day
without it burrowing itself into my head.
We both know that's a lie.

I like to believe that you'll wake up,
and it'll cross your mind too.
That I least once, you'll stop
and think.
We both know you won't.

I hope to be done with my work
before it starts to weigh me down.

Just
another
*******
Monday.

Truth: damaged people
tend to do damage themselves.
Keep your eyes open.

It’s that time of year when I think of you....
And all the strange things we used to do...
We were young and cast our fate to the wind...                                                  
Regardl­ess of the message that we might send..
Out to the world , cause we didn’t care...                                                          ­            
And that’s what brings me here to share....
You treated me just like a queen honey bee..                                                            ­    
And I believed and worshiped thee...
We shared our ups and downs together...                                                      ­                  
In thick and thin and stormy weather...
What was mine was mine and yours was mine.....                                                        ­
And we never ever crossed that line !
I assumed it would always be just you and me...                                                            ­
As no one else appealed you see....
My friends said you will break my heart...                                                         ­             
But I told them that, I was just too smart....
As I remembered , what I was taught....                                                       ­                 
That no one could control my thought...
And then it happened I lost my heart....                                                        ­                  
My bracelet, my watch and my college  ring...
And then you did that awful thing...                                                         ­                     
You lied , you cheated , you  had stolen my bling...
And that’s why now you aren’t around....                                                       ­               
Plus no way... will you EVER.... be found....

last Easter I wrote a poem for you
with rhyming words and beautifully constructed stanzas
about the way your hair looks and the way I wanted you and the way things were changing but -
April came back around all too fast this year and I don't write poems like I used to.
this isn't poetry.
this is October nights with glazed eyes,  burning throats and so much trauma, so much trauma, so much ******* trau-
this is November afternoons smoking my lungs black and tears that i drowned in for every day of that month.
this is December mornings when I spent all my money on Christmas decorations because I thought it would be my last.
this is New Years Eve, clutching her back and sobbing into her shoulders because I couldn't believe I made it - how the hell did I make it?  this is me thanking her, and her, and her too for stitching me back together. this is champagne and the grace of God.
this is February when you came back to me  and as much as i wanted to throw dirt back in your face, I held onto it in hopes of planting something new.
this is March when it wouldn't stop snowing.
this isn't poetry.
this is April,
this is me taking the dirt and burying the idea of us six feet under.
this isn't poetry,
this is Spring and this is the last time you will be mentioned with it.

these things are true:

       my existence is a winding path consisting of
       first and second degree mistakes, accomplishments, sorrow, fulfillment
       and unexpected events that i have the power to determine to be        
       devastating or miraculous

        everything i experience is temporary

        the feeling of emptiness that physically consumes me
        is included in that category, and at some point i will stop bearing it

however, i never want to hear anyone’s heartbeat against my palm ever again

i never want to appreciate the life of another person because their demise is inevitable,
and if anyone tries to set off fireworks on the fourth of july i will move to sweden

i can’t ever have anyone depend on me to stay through everything,
and i never want to hear another taylor swift song because she’s a terrible musician

i never want anyone else to understand what i’m trying to say
even when i’ve left my sentence unfinished,
and i will impale the next person who tries to hold my hand

i am filled with your absence, overflowing with emptiness
so i will wait until i don’t want to understand anymore
i will wait for everything to become interesting again, for everything to hurt less

This time lonely,
have to go lonely,
far and far, miles after miles.

This time alone,
ups and down of life,
under the romantic  moon beam,
amidst blooming flowers,breezing scented wind,
and the birds beautiful song and dances,

This time lonely....
Hot shining eye drop under the deep blue sky..

Pardon my outrageous accusations
But if we could trade places
You'd see what you were doing was tasteless
And I'm sorry I hurt you
But I had to be happy
Cause to be honest
The love was ******
The behaviour upset me
And I just felt
You didn't get me
Now I'm not trying to be rude
You didn't give me what I wanted
The relationship was lacking
And now the shows over
I've been waiting since june
Hoping this all blows over
I don't love you anymore
And everytime I talk to you
My heart gets colder

perhaps it was my fault-
i never begged for your forgiveness
i simply floated away

maybe you're rose
maybe i'm jack
or maybe it's the other way around

you were desperate for a love story
but you didn't think of the end
and how i never make it there

i was not born to be
your sunrise and moonbeam
that's too much responsibility

sometimes things just don't work out
especially when i stop trying
perhaps it was my fault

You see these wings?
They’re my wings.

I didn’t paint them on my eyes,
strap them on for a pageant, play, or Halloween night
I didn’t tattoo them on the small of my back
to feel the sting of satisfaction of an image I can’t see

My wings,
are right between my shoulder blades
with spreading feathers like a warm hug after a long winter’s day
when you come home to the one that loves you
and they stoke the fire and stroke your cheeks
until they fall asleep at your feet

My wings,
have tips that stretch around the world,
brushing the cheeks of crying children
lifting the chins of the concerned, confused mothers
and smoothing the hair of the disheveled, drowning fathers

And it breaks my heart that
my wings,
have always been there
from the moment I clutched the bars of my crib
screaming my mother’s name in desperation
to the moment I released her hand
in a promise to be home at midnight
on my first date with a boy
who had smiled at me in Spanish class

And my wings,
were here when the same boys that smiled
turned to a new wind,
and took flight without me
My wings,
were here every single day I couldn’t roll out of bed
couldn’t make it on time
couldn’t call my mama back
and couldn’t find my **** way home

My wings,
have been waiting
for me to finally believe
that they’ve always been there,
and when the world feels like too much

my wings,
*wake up.