little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

the moon is hiding in
her hair.
The
lily
of heaven
full of all dreams,
draws down.

cover her briefness in singing
close her with the intricate faint birds
by daisies and twilights
Deepen her,

Recite
upon her
flesh
the rain’s

pearls singly-whispering.

What if I fell in love
With a broken down *******
Not because I needed to fix him
But simply because I wanted to revel in his beauty
The maddening craziness
Of a life
A life that didn't need to be maintained with perfection
A life where you could just knock down pillars that you didn't need
Destroy friendships that weren't beneficial
A life where one could disown one's own mother
Without the whole neighbourhood offering their tut-tuts
And their 5 cents too many
About how to trim your garden
What if I fell in love with a life
Who let their weeds grow
And created a garden out of thorns
A **** patch that would make those neighbours shriek
What if I fell in love with chaos and disorder
Not to right the tables
Nor to order the shelves
What if I didn't attempt to prune the garden
But I let it grow into a forest
And then laughed when I stepped on a thorn
What if I let the sun shine through the madness
What if I opened my arms to the destruction
What if you sung me a lullaby out of tune
And I asked you to sing it anyways…

I came back home last week, big greyhound bus and a backpack full of clothes. That bus rode in on Main Street, that old coffee shop was closed.
I walked across the park and stop by that old oak tree, the one where we carved our initials and climbed on - its still standing tall, our initials are hard to read but still able to see.
There were some kids playing tag and that tree was the safety base...if they only knew the things we did together up above or down below...I can still feel your embrace...
Its been such a long, long time since we walked hand in hand, do you remember?
Does it mean as much to you as it does to me?
Its a strange, strange story - how time just rumbles past us and we find ourselves alone despite the crowds of people.
Its a strange but comforting feeling knowing that the tree is still there. Sort of a confirmation that we did live the life I remember and its not just another story.
That we were together, long nights and my feelings are true and not some made up memory.
I find myself falling at times for the same old lines, the same old attractions, her scent, her voice, lips and touch...but then I remember that she is not you and its just a temporary glimpse into what can never be...
I came back home the other day but its not home anymore...my family is gone, moved on to another town in another city. Tom, Sue and Billy are gone as well to another town in another city.
I walked around and hoped that magically I would catch a glimpse of you again...but all I saw were the smoking ravages of a heart dragged on the road - skid marks of blood and love wasted...
Home is not home.
Home I have no home.
I am alone...sweaty air choking me and I dream of you holding me.
Home I have none.
Home is a place I call where I don't feel so scared and alone. With apron string love and the scent of something in the oven.
Got on the 11pm bus back to New York City...as we pulled away I saw that old oak tree and I could swear I saw you waving to me...

I wish I knew what part of I love you was the lie
The part where you whispered it
The part where you called it a lie
The part where you ran away
The part where you promised stay

To the girls who are secretly so broken
You WILL be alright
I know you have scars on your soul
Maybe your heart
Possibly your wrists
None of this is your fault
And even if you think it is
Let it go
Not that you can, that easily
But try
I know you are broken
I know you're not okay
Especially when people ask how you are and you answer "I'm fine"
When what you really mean is "I'm alive"
But what do you really care about your own survival anymore
Well I just want you to know
There is beauty in broken glass
And to me
There is immeasurable beauty
In broken girls
So don't you ever forget
You cannot be defined by pain
You're too beautiful for that
Stay strong, broken girl
Nothing is ever really broken

So apparently I'm a troll.
Funny, most joke I look elvish.
I think 5'6 is too tall to be a troll,
I could be mistaken though,
Afterall I've never had the displeasure
of meeting one in person.

So apparently I'm a troll, not sure why.
I think it has to do with some stuck up guy.
Can't we all just get along?
I just want to write and not be accused
of things that I'm not.
I think I'm done here, hope it's not too long.
I end with a sigh,
because I'm tired of this already.