4 am child awakened from sleep
By my father gently shaking my shoulder
It did not matter that my sisters
Had declined first
I, the youngest, was about
To inherit an honor  
To go alone in the boat, just dad and I
To Little Swan Lake, about 3 miles from home
A familiar place very different in this light
Night sounds and odours distilled
He lowered the boat into the water
And extended his hand to help me climb inside
Looking around me, this darkness was new
Enchanted silence was new and
It did not take long to recognize  
That I liked it that way
Soft rowing carried us
To the center of the lake
Where quietly drifting
He introduced me
To the space
Where humans were asleep
And nature claimed you as her own
Smoothing words with his hand
He implored me to be still
As he gave me the gift
of Solitude
An hour passed as we listened
To the rhythm of water
The voices of fish
And the depths of our thoughts
Our eyes exchanged sadness
When other boats crept in
Knowing soon, daylight would waken
The sleeping dogs and invaders
And we would no longer be alone
In our nest of idealists


Did he know
How I worshipped his every action?
That every word he spoke has molded my character?
His humility would never have boasted of such
Which is all the more reason to want to be like him

Look up,
they'll be fights going on
in the deepest hours of the night,
all behind pretty-born neon lights.

Look over,
she'll be mid argument with him
using uncouth words that appear blunt,
all behind a red brick front.

Peak 'round,
he'll be throwing clothes into suitcases
clearing out the wardrobe, not leaving traces,
all behind walls of places

you know.

"Oh, hey Emily, will you be on our team?"

It was the very bad ending to a very bad day.

Three tests, forgotten homework, stuttered lines,
And this is what got me in the end.

Those girls,
The ones with the
Perfect long blonde beautiful hair
And the pencil skirts
And uggs,
The girls who even manage to make gym clothes look good.

We had lined up for
Captain ball
Which is really just
A mix of
Soccer and basketball.

And we had to line up,
Every inch of back touching the wall,
And the first seven people from each side would play, and then the next seven.

But of course
Those girls
The ones who can't bear to be
Seperated
For two minutes and forty-seven seconds
Had to have the perfect team.

No.
Just no.

I won't "be on your team."

There are no teams.

He touches
My hair
All the time,
Plays with the
Edges and
Fragments,
And sometimes reminds me that
"I can braid,
You know."
Sometimes he does.

Sometimes he mimics me
In History class
From across the room,
And he laughs at all my jokes,
Even when they aren't funny,
Just
Stupid.

And occasionally,
When I'm sitting in my little niche
Between his desk
And Ellie's,
Right on the cold tile,
He'll attach his forehead to mine
And just look at me.
Sometimes he'll whisper,
"Nose,"
And point to it,
And I just giggle
And break the stare.

I don't even think he feels it,
The wishing to always be near him,
To have his fingers in my hair
All the time,
And for his laugh to be
My soundtrack.

I don't think
That when he stares into my eyes
He wants to kiss me
As bad
As I want
To kiss
Him.

My eyes, like camera lenses, can focus on sole object and blur the rest

For so long,
you are all I saw
For so long,
you were the focus
For so long,
I thought I was yours too

But just now
I realized that it was my imagination

but still
when I tried to blur you
and focus on the world
the other things that actually matter

you still are the focus
the crystal clear form
while the rest of the edges are blurred
through my broken camera lenses.

You fight like the love was never there,
And act like you never cared.
We aren't kids anymore,
Yet you still try to keep it hiden,
I feel like im 4 years old again,
Remembering the beginning.
It's a cycle for her,
Abuse in any form.
It's not physical this time,
But the pain is the same.
10 years is just too long,
It feels like a more than a decade.
The pain she wears like a battle wound.
For her it's like the past,
And yet we are still confused.
Because in all the times before,
Why is this the last straw?