When the memories of your half bloomed love
Shake me from the ribcage out,
I comfort myself with the thought
That there was never really an us at all.
(It must have just been my own narcissism-
What a greedy ***** I was, asking you to love me)
But when this conclusion is less than palatable
And fails to satisfy my heart-hungry belly –
As it always does, it always fails-
I leave the soft haven of my own bed sheets
And venture out onto cold concrete and asphalt.
….

There I become small and carnivorous
Like some half starved rodent or gorging reptile.
I salivate at the scent of even common affection.
….

My heart,
Ravenous and infinitesimal,
Will find another to take your place.
And these others- this golems of a men, these interlopers in our warped affections-
Are easily devoured through hands and mouth and ****.
….

The walls of the hollow space where an ‘us’ was purported to dwell
Churn and roil uncomfortably with pangs.

You're just not enough anymore.

I want to pretend it isn't so, but this skin is too worn to stretch over false smiles and empty eyes.

And I know, I'll miss your penny colored skin that tasted like love-

                And kisses that tasted like lies

                And hand prints that bruised into my thighs

When you ****** me like you cared

                When you hurt me a little, like your wont to do.

                When you traced your name on the small of my back like a tattoo



Fairytales, sweet and juicy as mangoes, aren't enough for me anymore.



Give your sweet syrup to someone who can stomach it better than I.

Let them take all your sound bytes and smiles in to their mouths,

Red tongues warm and wet and alive,

Caressing each vowel and curve of lip,

Until they choke on them.

Let the sugar rot their teeth and burn their throats.

Such candies aren't for me anymore.



And I still crave you,

Still wish for hands splayed across my belly

Holding me like I'm something precious.

I still dream of pulled hair and soft lips

Still want false words of love and promise

Too much like the ****** who won't eat or sleep.



But I can't believe anymore.

I've grown too much to ignore the signs

Faith is a luxury of children and fools and I am neither.

So keep your lies and mangoes and sound bytes;

I've had enough.

At the dawn,
The sun sheds her cloak of moon, cloud and starry black skies
And stands naked, bright and shining,
Filled with yellows, and orange, and brilliance.  
And all I can do is wish to be as lovely as she.

Such radiance! Like the Phoenix rising;
Arms turned into wings the color of glowing embers
Stretched as wide and far as the rays of the sun herself,
Bursting with passion and gold and blazing,
Too small and too wonderful to contain it all.

But we don’t believe in blinding flames anymore.
How can we dream of such light?
Wings clipped, the color of ash, bound to earth
Through chains whose links are made of things too solid to break,
Things like gravity and pasts that hurt us to remember.

Women much like any other woman;
Like my mother, my friends, myself;
Women whose light has been diminished,
Who wear cloaks of bruises and broken promises now.
Filled with fear and rage and destruction.

Sweet sisters,
Trapped in cages not of their own making.
Bodies banging and thrashing against bars
Spasming in pain and silence
Too shamed and confused to sing

No melodies are heard here,
But look how pretty the silent bird is.
Muffled by gilded cages
Constructed from hardest of materials
Things we were made to believe.

This is the darkest of places
Closed curtains block out the sun.
No moon or stars to wrap us in fitful slumber.
There is no dreaming in this gloom.

“Sing for us!” they say, “croon for us something sweet,
“Let your voice choke past your rage and sorrow
“Flit amongst golden bars, sing and dance,
“Become our vision; ****, slave and nurturer
“For the cage is large and the sun cannot reach you here
“Let our praise warm you and our approval be your stars
“We will keep you safe.”

But birds such as we;
Like my mother, my friends, myself
We were not made for cages, gilded as they may be.
Our wings and hearts and love cannot be contained
Even by things of the most hurtful construction.

Lift up your wings and soar once again.
Rising like the Phoenix
Filled with rage and destruction and new promise,
From tombs of ash and tears to take flight.
Breaking through golden bars created by those who envied our passion.
We fly like no others.


At dawn
The sun and I will rise again
Shedding the pasts and hurts of yesterday
Like cloaks of moon and cloud and stars .
For I am simply me: a phoenix, daughter of the sun, naked, bright and shining
Join us.

My mouth waters at the thought of you.
Like some ***** in heat,
I am common and lewd.
I long to taste the shell of your ear
And bruise you in your most intimate places.

His face pressed against hers,
Tips of noses and foreheads,
And his palm large and smooth against her cheek.

Closed eyes and secret smiles.
Like she had always known
The taste of skin that surrounds a metallic stud.
Like he knew the wet trail left behind a tongue
Was best on the underside of a breast.  

Smoke pouring out from lungs
Curling and twisting about lips
That were wet and heavy
Like dark orchid petals
Drooping in summer’s humid heat.

Luscious
You said when you saw them.
And the word sat on my tongue
Rich and sweet
Pressing against the roof of my mouth.

His fingers traced lines down her scalp,
Brushing hair back from eyelids and upturned lips.
He moved down to kiss a taut calf muscle.

Luscious, I said.  *I like that.

I packed up my childhood
In a heavy wooden trunk
And hid it where no one could find it.

I thought that I could save it,
Take it out later,
And wear it again like my favorite coat.

But When they were taking me in the police car,
Packed in so tightly against the others-
Like sardines or slaves on a ship-
I lost my key as they dragged me from my mother’s home.

I am older now
And I still cannot find it.
And the trunk is too heavy to break.

I think of my childhood,
Alone in the stifling dark,
I hear it scuttling about sometimes.
And I want to cry.

To my surprise
Placing feet on foreign soils
Does not root me as surely as I thought it would.

Digging my toes into the dirt
Feels like any other sediment
And there is endless disappointment in this.

There are no vines or roots
Breaking through pavement, earth, and cracked cement to greet me.
It does not embrace me.
And I am not its child.