He saw me in a yellow dress,
And yellow became his favorite color.
But when he saw her in a green dress,
He saw that color everywhere.

Sometimes, I am a paper girl.
I look in the mirror
To judge my blotches and creases-
I am a pale, thin tissue
That bows to the howling wind
Transparent for anyone who cares enough to look.

If you like pretty pictures, I'm the one for you-
A roll of film scratching laughs
On curious cinema screens
That could run into infinity
Just to fuel your smile.

I soak up your messes willingly:
All the colours that bleed and mix
To form the specks of sadness
In your eyes at 10.p.m
And the grass stains that roll
Down your bare gypsy feet
And the sunflower seeds
That stick to your inky lashes-
These things give an echo of the flavour
I miss.

I am vain
I regularly conjure up poetry on my skin-
Do not give me yours.
I will recite it to my last paper breath
So I can kid myself that paper is power.

I am not the phantom you teach to play piano
Under the helter-skelter moon,
I am far too fragile for that-
My paper cut fingers bend
And bleed light all over the keys.

My hands are a canvas
For anyone's ***** details
For if enough titles are painted on my body then perhaps
I will learn the complex trick
Of gaining depth

And maybe the world will look as full
And real as I read in books
And dance with in music
And maybe my edges will stop being ripped
Or my corners cut
Or my pages burned and tossed aside.

Sometimes, I am this tiny
Vulnerable
Origami creature
And my cream card bones tremble like feathers
A bad caricature of life.

Sometimes I am full of wonder-

But right now, I am this.

let's talk about God like it's 2 am
your bitterness has been lacking as of late
and all I want is your hand to reach for mine
but your blood is staining my shoes
and your words are poisoning my blood
reaching
cold
stained wooden beams cut the moon in two
and I'm still here stuck waiting for you

it’s midnight and I’m dead
drowning in my thoughts again
perhaps I never left
but maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up
and the sunrise will erase your words off my skin
and I can get your ghost
out of my bed

The last golden rays of sun
Caress the trees
Before slipping over the horizon,
Leaving a peacefulness in their wake;
A quiet stillness.
Nothing moves except my eyes
As they close, and
There’s a feeling in my chest
I can’t explain
I think it’s happiness.


The heavy sound of rain
Pounding on the rooftop
Comforts me as I sit
Wrapped in a blanket on the porch,
A cup of coffee in my hand,
And just the thoughts inside my head.
I close my eyes
And give in to the feeling
I can’t explain,
I think it’s happiness.

What if it rained daisies today?
And no one got wet
and nothing washed away?

What if the sun shone bright
as daisies flew?

What if the breeze blew
soft daisies like spinners
in the wind?

Would we all be happy then?

His "I love you" came swiftly.
Like the monsoon pouring down on a leaky roof
Those three words broke through my defences.
At first they were an ambrosia;
They sustained my life and our relationship.
At least for a short time.

Then "I love you" became an excuse;
For absences, and purpose-filled accidents.
And I ignored the warning signs, the flashing lights.
I pretended like "I love you" was enough...

...But it wasn't.
His "I love you"s were like band-aids on bullet wounds;
Like using play dough to fix cracks in concrete walls.
But I rationed our good memories,
I held on as tight as I could to our love
And watched as it slipped through my fingers.

His "I love you"s became poison,
That seeped deep into my bones,
And turned blue skies grey,
And turned light into darkness,
And slowly killed whatever semblance of love
I fooled myself into thinking we had left.