Don't let the little things get to your head,
Because if you do, your love will lay dead.

(                          O

The Moon bathes
an eye lid but the
Sun can never do
anything like that,
although it’s often
watery in Ireland.

Every single
mistake of mine,
even the recurring ones,
patiently you edit within
and read as if it's fine,
nothing has ever gone wrong.

see!
what your love
incomparable
has to me done,
my poor, darling!

in my writing, they see
the grammar fully muddled,
so many words I spell wrong.

I see this, only when
others, bitterly, loudly complain
gentle soul, your'e forgiving,
but the world isn't,vengeful it seems,
don't you see the predators, prowling?

Why don't you consider the truth,
I am imperfect, want to be corrected
why not help me change,
tell me where I go wrong, urge
I'll certainly adore you more for that.

If I were a tree,
my roots would tunnel towards you.
My branches,
stretching for just one touch.

If I were a flower,
my petals would blossom at the sound of your laughter.
My thorns,
removed by the tenderness of your voice.

If I were a river,
my stream would carve for you a way through mountains.
My water,
purified by your resilient spirit.

you knew I was lost,
you took advantage of that.

i had to accept your touch
i had to understand your desire
and your hand on my body
left a mark

i broke into pieces,
with your touch that I can't wash away
and with your face,
which I cannot forget


now am silenced
for the rest of my days

Fences fail quietly—
in a slow tilt
colors give way
surrendering—
a silent retreat
from brown to brittle.

I press a finger
catch the rough
edge of metal
its dust scratching my skin—
years thin us
like coins drowned
in riverbeds.

It goes this way
I think—
a long fade
grit slipping
into dark water
turning to mud
just enough to remember
we once held on.

And I wonder if we, too
were made to loosen
to dissolve—
no shards or splinters
just a long sigh—
as time corrodes
at our hearts
turning all we were to rust.

I tell my friends I didn't study
Because I knew I wouldn't get in either way
I lied to them
I studied like never before
Flashcards
Notebooks filled with practice questions
Yet
I didn't make the cut
I wasn't good enough

Another world
Another place
Another time
I’d have pictures of Monet on my wall
A massive room where I can dance
I’d have it all!
I’d have a ball,
I’d stand tall!

she was 12,
of course no one believed her.
she was 12,
of course she was blamed.
she was 12,
of course she thinks its her fault.
she was 12,
of course they laughed at her when she opened up about it.
she was 12,
of course she thought it was love.
she was 12,
of course it was the clothes.
she was 12,
of course she couldn't press charges.
she was 12,
of course it still haunts her.
she was 12,
of course she's disgusted by her self.
she was 12,
of course she wasn't taken seriously.
she was 12.