pigeons still
wait for meals
by that bench
where sun once grew
in tufts of gold

girls skipping classes
to window shop
their scarves wild
and their nails chipped

tough boys go out and smoke
and cough and dance
and act brave
and cut their hair
in the dark

and words of a new language
tumble down our tongues
head over heels
tasting strange
but falling into place
after all

My body, my soul, my youth.
Young song pours from my skin
and weaves through the patterns
in my irises. I am beautiful
so she hates me. She curses me,
eating me up with her eyes,
eyes which are eating me alive.
She tears me apart
because she loves me,
I am too beautiful for her world.
She will dance in the winds
I make with my hands
and in the flowers which bloom
at my feet.
She will cry in the storms
I breath
and the rivers
I sing.
She will know me and love me and run
away from me because my youth
is crawling somewhere,
somewhere where everything belongs
apart from her.

i don't know the feeling of seeing the first snow fall
all i've ever known is rain and thunder

And people say I've changed when I know I haven't
And I'll still cry when my black dog howls at that swollen paper moon
A heartstring ripping song that will have no duet
And so I've stitched myself in lavender
And drowned my skin in water that comes from so close to the sea that my palms hold shipwrecks
But I'm still that same girl who stood too close to the edge of the road just to feel the cars whip past her
And I'm still that same girl who feels as though the love she is given will never truly be earned

Spellbound

I could spend years wandering in that same ellipse
Awake during nightfalls your parents never told you of in bedtime stories
Entranced by heartbeat lightning as I avoided foggy eyes
I was seeking a light that could not glow there

I remember the year I became alight,
warding through punched walls with her candle  
Flames licking at my frail wrists like kittens  
Where she waited for me I cannot tell you,
for the women who twiddle their thumbs amongst smoke in unlit rooms are the women who have shown me something about myself that was once hidden  
Hidden like screams woven within static and wind

I have always been the one who has to watch the doors when people come in and out
Guarding entrances to homes as I watch life pass me
Spinning slowly as I become separate from the air
And maybe you get and that and maybe you don't
And maybe there will always be two kinds of people
Those who change in front of the mirror
And those who don't
Each meaning so much more and so much less than what we fixate upon
Or maybe nothings like that
And maybe i will always be the girl born too late in the summer
With irises that have mystified my mother to this day
And a spellbound quality to my smile that my grandmother warned would make men weep

your heart is a room
with wide windows where the sunlight pours in
so perfectly it kisses your face,
the wind blows through the curtains
gently whispering of its constant love
through all the seasons,
it is warm and it is bright,
it is where one can run to in the night
when the stars make their way to shine
right on top of it
as you whisper your secrets;
its walls will listen, it understands, it will never judge.
your heart is a room
where one can snuggle in so perfectly
and wonder: "where has this place been all my life?"
it is a room that has welcomed
so many people—relentlessly and willingly,
it is in the way you love so limitlessly.

your heart is a room, a safe place
with walls built on love and grace,
and i am glad to have found it.