When I fall in love again
I want someone
who can hold my hair back
while I throw up my thoughts
and open a window so they'll fly away
and get caught in a tree
that we'll one day sit under
where they'll propose
and let me propose back
because I am a wobbly one
who likes the concept of balance
and stability.
Someone who will sleep on top of my body
and believe me when I say
I love the pressure
and the lack of oxygen
to my brain helps ease my chronic nightmares
--then wake up and be silent
because morning breath
is too much of a bully
to let my mouth say good morning.
Someone who pines for second hand embarrassment
enough to love when I
sing and dance around the grocery store
and get us kicked out
only to go across the street
for food that I'll either
barely touch or
shove in my face.
When we go to order
or pay at a place,
they'll understand that
they have to talk for me
so I don't get scared and cry.
I want someone
who'll shut up and be my muse
and let me make them
thousands of presents everyday
but also stress about Christmas and birthdays,
and I want someone who'll let me baby them
then have them turn around and
know that when I flop down like
a wanton cat
I'm getting some tummy rubs.
I want someone who'll
let me buy organic veggies
and not question me
when I sneak candy around my friends.
Someone who'll get that
I can't say 'I love you' in passing,
only when I look at them
and love bubbles over the brim of me,
and spills into their ears.
Someone who'll let me
stop the kissing
to run my tongue
across the sharp edges of their teeth,
and in the moment, let me kiss
what ever I want to kiss,
whether it be an elbow
or somewhere below.
Someone who can keep up
with my mania
and my hysteria,
who'll hide the sharp objects,
not because I'd use them,
but because they make my bones ice cold.
Someone who'll let me worry over them,
study them,
sing to them,
analyze them,
and crush on them.
Someone who'll let me lightly punch them,
and then cry sorry
cry sorry
cry sorry.
Someone who'll be interested in me,
want to know me
and
let me know them
and let me ask
a
million
questions?
When I find this someone,
I will flip my body over my soul's head
like a tee-shirt,
turn it right-side-in,
and hand it to them.

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

Little Toy Soldiers going off to war
None will ever live to  see age twenty four
None of them even  know what they're fighting for
Little Toy Soldiers going off to war

The world has always been this way
With Emperors and Kings
Fighting with toy soldiers
And the glory that it brings

Land, beliefs, religion
The basis of the war
fought by young toy soldiers
Who all die by the score

Time has taught us nothing
But, it's changed the way we fight
War is a full day job
Now that it is fought at night

The boards of little armies
Are now shown up on the screen
With all the little soldiers
Lit in different shades of green

They used to be all metal
Painted up in nice bright shades
With a General on horseback
Leading all his smart brigades

Then, the men were plastic
glued to bits of wood
Behaving as a unit
Just like a soldier should

Now, the war is different
They're up there in different hues
You can watch them fight in real time
Just like on the nightly news

The only thing remaining
The thing that's stayed the same
Is that nobody in power
Know the Little Soldiers names

Little Toy Soldiers going off to war
None will ever live to  see age twenty four
None of them even  know what they're fighting for
Little Toy Soldiers going off to war

And suddenly
I was captivated by how he held his steering wheel
I was blown away by how the shadows of the passing streets lights
made themselves home on his skin
I wanted to be home on his skin
I wondered what it felt like to be embedded into the cracks in his hands
Actually I wanted to be a small molecule that belonged on his fingertips
Even for just 2 heartbeats
I just wanted to place myself over his chest
And for a few seconds my life would be completely in my hands

I am a minor miner girl
Searching for the diamond in each piece of coal
But sometimes all that is there is rock
No shining sparkle
But what girls like us minor miner girls
Don't realize is that we too shine
Those pieces of rock
Those lumps of coal
We throw our whole lives into
Trying to find their diamond
When it doesn't exist
At least not for us
We need to learn that we as individuals
Cannot press a lump so hard
And turn it to diamond
We need to see that
Nothing, absolutely nothing
Can hold us back
Except for us
So dear minor miner girls
Please realize your worth
And don't give your life to those lumps
Of what is really just dirt

wouldn’t it be great to learn Greek
she says
quickly riffling
through the phrasebook
with a thumb and her tongue out
while I try to discover what
‘to speak’ is in Dutch

everyone uses English
you know I say
spluttering ‘ik spreek, jij spreek,
hij spreek’,
trying to nail the pronunciation
like the book tells me to
‘ick sprake, yigh sprake, hi sprake’

but they might appreciate
tourists knowing a bit in Crete
like ‘efcharistó’
or ‘ti ypérochi méra’ she mutters
but it all, literally,
sounds Greek to me
and we can’t visit everywhere

besides, she wants warm weather
but I’d be fine in, say, Sweden,
‘Där är den närmaste Ikea?’
or in Iceland, but I can’t
pronounce anything
the way the phrasebook
wants me to

so Greece is probably best,
and anyway,
she’s too busy
informing me that
‘monókeros’ means unicorn
and it’s 575 quid each
if we book now