It was the Spring of 1908. Magdalena looked upon the water as it glistened in the sunlight.

A group of men stood beside her to her left, leaning against the railing of the boat as she was and looking out at the endless Atlantic ocean. The pungent smell of their cigar smoke reminding her of her father and his friends back home in Italy. She could not understand what these men were saying, but their words and laughter with each other comforted her.  They were all on their way to America, and their dreams were seemingly coming true. The spray of the ocean, and the brisk breeze, felt refreshing against her cheeks as Magdalena inhaled the fresh, cool air.

Magdalena looked over at her poor sister and tried to comfort her. Maria still was suffering from motion sickness, and she leaned over the railing in miserable anticipation to *****. Ladies and girls in babushkas were singing nearby, laughing with each other in the joy of each other's company. Magdalena really wanted her sister to experience the joy she was feeling, that these women and men were feeling around her.

She had to worry about her sister all the time. At age sixteen, Magdalena always felt responsible for Maria, especially now that she felt she had dragged her with her on this large passenger boat traveling across the vast Atlantic, a ride that seemed endless.

Maria was not quite fifteen, and she seemed more like a little girl to her older sister. Back in their small village in Italy, they both knew what their fate would be.

"You are lucky to get what you get", Magdalena recalled her father saying to her. "You are not the pretty one in the family, and we are not rich!"

Maria's father, Matteo, was not a bad man, but a blunt one. He knew he had to marry off his daughters one day, and the day came that Magdalena's father received an offer from a man almost thirty-five years older than she was for his daughter's hand in marriage. He was a simple peasant farmer, like her father was, and he went to the same  Catholic church as Magdalena and her family did.

"I don't want to marry him!" Magdalena confessed to her mother, Bella. "I don't want that life, Mama!"

"You don't need to love the man to marry him!" Bella shouted. "Don't let your father hear what you are saying! You need to be grateful! Do you think we can take care of you forever?"

Magdalena tried to be grateful. Out of eleven children that her mother bore, only six survived. It was not an easy life.   Her brother, Matteo, the third, and her sisters, Sofia and Arietta , were older than she was.  Maria, and her brother, Alberto, came after her.

Her father had already arranged for marriages for Sofia and Arietta. Both of them were currently pregnant, and Magdalena did not know if they were happy or not. Between the two of them, they already had five children. She never heard them complain, but she also rarely saw them smile. It was as if they accepted their fate with quiet submission and without a scrap of passion for their existence.

Magdalena looked over at her sister. Maria was retching, her hair hanging down about her. Madgalena lifted her sister's hair off of her sister's face, and gave her sister a handkerchief for her to wipe her face with.

"I am so sorry" Magdalena said, deep remorse in her expression.

Maria looked over at her sister, with her pretty green eyes, and asked, "Why?"

"Because I made you do this", Magdalena confessed.

Maria shook her head. "No, you didn't. I wanted to come".

They smiled at each other, and Magdalena thought her sister had the most beautiful smile ever. No wonder the men were buzzing about their home in hopes to find favor with their father. She could never be envious of her little sister, for she loved her too much.

Maria was going to be next, the last of the girls to marry off. But, first, it was Magdalena's turn. It was settled. She was to marry Vincente Morino, a forty-nine year old bachelor, a stocky man with thick white hair and mustache, and a gruff voice that scared her away.  

When she cried out to her father to have compassion for her, pleaing that he reconsider, his anger burned within him. "You either marry this man or you don't live here anymore! You will need to fend for yourself if you don't! You will not bring shame onto this family!"

Magdalena would cry herself to sleep almost every night. She shared a bed with Maria, and her sister would just hold her to comfort her. They had the closest bond among all the siblings. Maria looked up to her sister with great admiration, as did her sister to her.    

All her hiding away of her money paid off. Magdalena had to earn her keep by doing sowing and caring after a neighbor, an elderly widow. Every week, her mother and father expected her to hand over all of her money to them, for the common good of the family, for their survival.

She used to feel guilty for holding a small portion of it back. They surely would not discover it if she did. She dared not to tell anyone , not even Maria for fear she would be discovered and punished.

But now she found a good reason to tell her.

Some of the townsfolk had relatives that had went to America to live. If they were able to write, they would tell of tales of working so hard, but because of it they were now living lives they had never expected, of more food, of more space, of more freedom.

Magdalena removed the floorboards from below her bed. She pulled out the lovely paper money and coins from within her small metal chest. She now believed that she had enough money for her passage, and perhaps enough for one more.

"Do you want to get married to one of these men?" she asked Maria one day . They sat upon their bed, the soft, afternoon light filtering through their lacy, beige curtains. The distant sound of children playing could be heard on the streets below.

Maria didn't know how to answer quite at first. "No", she eventually said. "I am too young!"

Magdalena grabbed her sister's hand and clasped hers together upon it. "Then come with me", she said. "I am going to America".

Maria's jaw dropped open, and she looked like she had seen a ghost. She shook her head in disagreement.

"Don't leave me!" she cried out, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I am not!" Magdalena assured her. "You go with me!"

But how could they possibly do it? Two impoverished girls from central Italy, from really nowhere when it came to maps and the greater world around them. Could they really leave?

"I have saved some of my money", Magdalena whispered, for fear someone could have returned back home.

"You did not!" Maria whispered back. Maria worked, too, caring after some children down the valley. She never had enough courage to hold back any of her money.

It was a terrifiying concept, for both of them. Maria was both excited and fearful. She had decided that she would trust her sister. Madgalena knew she loved her greatly, and that she always would. Maria knew Magdalena loved her. But her mother and father! Her sleepy, little town! She would probably never see any of them again. This made her hesitate.

So Magdalena gave her time to think about it.

In the meantime, Magdalena continued to hide away money. Her mother was busy sowing her the wedding dress that her defiant daughter vowed to herself that she would never wear.

Then one day Maria came up to her sister in the garden in the back of the house. "I decided that I am going with you", she said bravely. She looked at her sister with a mixture of bravery and fear. Her breaths were short, and her heart was beating quickly.

Magdalena, her basket filled with zucchini, was standing in disbelief. She looked upon her sister with a warm, slow-starting smile.

"Then you better take me with you!" a young voice said from behind a tree.  

Oh, no! Alberto! Their twelve year old brother appeared in the scene, coming from behind that old tree by the rose garden.

Fired burned in Magdalena's eyes.  Alberto, that little snake! That rat! It couldn't be!

Who do you think you are spying on us?" she hissed at him. "And you don't even know what I am talking about!"

"Oh, yes I do!" Alberto responded, smugly. "You have been hiding money from Mama and Papa! And now you are going to America!"

Did he try to steal her money? Did he get his *****, little hands on her precious stash? Magdalena wanted to choke him, her insolent little brother, the youngest of the children who always was too smart for his own good. He just stood there, his cocky smirk on his face like he was so triumphant.

"Keep your voice down, or I swear you will not lived to see thirteen!" Magdalena warned him.

"You think you are going to leave me here alone?" Alberto told his stunned sisters. "Don't take me, and I will tell them. Take me, and I won't say a word".

Magdalena felt the need to grab a large branch to rush at him and beat him senseless. But she just stood there, hands on her hips, glaring at him in a showdown of angry eyes.

Alberto stood his ground, and he would not budge an inch. "Alright", Magdalena said in a harsh whisper, "And do you expect me to pay your way? I cannot do it!"

Alberto laughed, his eyes dancing in amuzement. "Do you think you are the only one who hides money?"

Magdalena felt better now that her sister's color was coming back. The air on the boat was refreshing as she breathed it in deeply. Where was Alberto?

"Oh, there he is", Maria pointed out. She shook her head and laughed. He was busy talking away with a pretty, young girl. Always the lady's man, the sisters agreed, far beyond his young years.

So now there they were, the three of them upon this boat. Magdalena did not want to betray her parents. She felt that they might want to come to America, but maybe they would stay where they were at. Perhaps they felt that they were too old to make a fresh start, or they could just be too afraid.

Would they miss her? Magdalena often wondered. Would they hate her for what she did? If so, she prayed that they would forgive her. It was bad enough she had left, but now Maria and Alberto would be gone, too, and she was responsible for it.

"Mira! Mira!" a man shouted out in Spanish. Another person cried out, "Look at that! America! America!"  

All faces were now captivated. The closer they came, everyone watched intently, like they were at a glorious theater. A low murmer of different languages all came about at once.

It took a long time to reach close to this unknown land, this vast coastline of the New World. It was just such an amazing sight that nobody wanted to go down below deck, one of sugar maples, and cherry blossom trees, of elegant homes nestled in cliffs.

Magdalena saw buildings much taller than she had ever seen in Italy as America came closer and closer into her sights, as her boat was making its way into the New York Harbor. She stood by her sister and gripped her hand in excitement. This took quite a long time to recach that destination, and it felt like a dream.

Alberto eventually ran over to his sisters. "That is it! That is it! The Lady Liberty!"

All three stood there amazed, with all the other passengers rushing about on deck and standing to look. She was a very tall lady, quite a lady indeed! A petina, a bluish-green, she stood there proudly with her lantern raised to the skies. Magdalena thought she was the most lovely sight that she had seen so far on her journey, and she could not stop the tears from flowing down her face.

Maria squeezed her older sister's hand, with tears streaming down her face, as well. As they held each other tightly, all Maria and Magdalena could do was cry in their relief and their hope.  

Alberto waved wildly at the statue, as if she would wave back. Others laughed and cried. Many waved, too,  and many stood there completely silent and struck with awe.

They had made made it.  At last! Magdalena felt like she had made the right move, even though she did not have a clue what her life would hold out for her.

Even so, she felt like she had found herself a home.

Silver shares such calming feeling towards my lifeless shell,
responsibilities flow me with joy and smiles,
however, under my silver I wear black.

I repaint my black walls in silver coats, wearing optimism like a crown,
gazing towards my darkest moments with sophistication and charm.
Seductive, mysterious and a comfort to all eyes,
secretive, silliness and sadness overwhelms my negative soul.

Under all of the layers of black and silver,
screaming towards me for affection.
You can find the smallest droplets of pink,
slowly is growing all over.

Hope holds me in a grip of pleaing and prays,
for one day I hold understanding and warmth with romance all my days.

Femininity is belittled thrown into a trashcan of self-doubt,
for once my little childish soul states,
"Can't we let femininity out?"

Let me use you just how I want to. Let me kiss you when you try and tell me no. Let me smoke half your cigarettes because if it's killing you, we'll ****, let it **** me too. Let our ribs grow together like roots under the pavement.

Kiss me me like you want the world to stop. Kiss me for all the lovers who don't anymore. If our lips are watercolor then I want our mouths to bleed across the page.

Love me in May and then into December because winter's are hard but summer's are far harder. The air is swollen and my lungs are weak but your voice is strong and your body is mighty.

There is a Raven
Perched upon my window sill,
Its talons tearing into the paint.
The tick-tock
Of a grandfather clock
Resounds throughout the walls,
Matching the scritching-scratching
Of the ravens claws.
I sit in the corner,
As I have for night after night,
Not sleeping,
Never sleeping,
Simply sitting and waiting.
The Raven begins
To tap-tap-tap
At the window pane.

And I sit

And wait.


How long now has it been?
Since my Sun,
So beautiful at its Dawn,
Had left its Noon-time heights
For an untimely Setting?
Sadly grieveous as it had been,
My Sunset had been darkly beautiful,
Asplash with deep reds and purple,
Crowned in gold.

Oh that I had been Pyramus and she Thisbe.
Star-crossed and Tragic,
A love made eternal by mutual deaths.
Alas, it was not to be,
For I am no Pyramus and she no Thisbe.
She went ahead of me
And not by choice of her own,
By my blade yet not her hand.
And after her I would chase,
Pleaing forgiveness on bended knee
In that next dream.

Yet I am afraid,
Of the knife,
Her scorn,
Her embrace.

And so I sit

And wait.

The Raven is at my window,
Talons scratching divots in the sill.
The resounding of the clock
Still surrounds me,

As I sit

And wait.

Perfectly timed moments exist
And with their existence, my sadness persists
I walked out, and he walked in
Our eyes met, it was his win
Every cell in my being began to heat up
And all he could do was try not to **** up
Yet still I ignored my pleaing heart
I sat in my car and drove farther apart
He shrunk in my rearview mirror
I sighed in hopeless terror
What if love will never surpass this limit
What if he's the only man I could love so vivid
All that I hoped for, all that I dreamed
Slowly ripped and torn apart at the seam
How do I overcome this desire to cease life
How do I care about tomorrow's strife

*s.q.

The frozen river,
Grey mist and cold air escape from little thankful lungs.
I hold your hand.
Your body walks beside me,
Our shadows blend to one.
On the outside your figure looks unscathed,

Your face is bare and clean, your eyes look out clear and blank and mild.

Your hands unclenched and loosely draped,
arms sway slightly from side to side as ballast
for the steps you take.

Broken though. Broken so very deeply.

So that every step your body takes,

you hear the sound of glass.
The ***** and jangle, the music of an utterly shattered self.

I hear you breaking, though you drown it in your headphones.

As you pass me in the street I hear the squelch of your shoes.

Soaked in your own blood so your socks are brown like mud.

And your eyes, they are unguarded as you gentley start to topple.

Vortex of pleaing pain and weighted silence.

A tornado of anguish inside your iris.

As you inhale, your scars are whiter than your teeth.
You pull me in, You want to grab me and beg for help.

For mercy, for release, for suffocation. But you have no voice,

Your tears are gushing but they don't feel wet.

You're flat, and shiny and utterly destroyed,

Beyond repair. The damage is done.

And so I release the mirror,

till our shadows blend,

and the blood is dried,

and the pieces scattered, and the shattered mirror will rest at the bottom of the river.

Only I stand on the bridge.

One body, not two.

Nothing to remind me of you.

But the shattered hole
in the frozen river,

"Tell me you want me" the words just sort of slipped out...
and the small chasm of air between your lips and his suddenly felt vast.
The words that had fallen out your mouth suddenly found themselves standing upright , on two feet. Staring him in the face. You watched as his eyebrows knitted, suddenly confronted by your 3AM thoughts for the last few weeks.
The aftermath of your honesty just hung between the two of you...

"Tell me you want me" you whispered again scared to lose him, scared to see him walk away like everyone else. You weren't an eloquent girl, or a girl well versed in getting the guy. You were an honest girl and maybe for once it would count for something.

You see you weren't begging or pining or even pleaing with him to want you..  you just wanted words to bear testament to the truth of what you had experienced with him thus far. And the truth was this - to you he was completely and utterly beautiful and not just because of the way  he could make you laugh or miss him without trying. He was beautiful because when you were with him you felt free to be exactly who you are and isn't that in itself ridiculously profound?. You felt like yourself and when you were comfortable with yourself you became at home and somehow he became a part of that home.

A home which you'd currently struck a match to if he didnt feel the same way
because you weren't good with 21st century dating games.
You weren't good with flirting
but you were good with him.
So in a horribly passionate way you just needed to know that you weren't alone in feeling overwhelmed,  suffocated by desire to just be together.

By now his eyes had glazed over and you knew your legs would only hold you upright for a few moments longer. Pulling away you inhaled the hot air that had become stagnated between the two of you.

But then your arm was grasped and your face was turned by long fingers you knew all too well..

" I want you. " he whispered back and that was enough. It was more than enough to just know that you weren't alone.

There are rules to which I can not abide
Feelings that I just can't hide
Wanting nothing but to run away and hide
Serching to find someone, to whom I can confide

So I could whisper secrets
Of deep regrets
For love has put me in emotional debt
Why did I make such a foolish bet

I put my heart on the line
And now I can not turn back time
I can't pretend that I'm fine
Or that foreve you'll be mine

For I just don't feel the way I felt
I'm so sorry that I was the hand you where delt
My love like a belt
Whipped you while you knelt

Pleaing for my love
I gave you a massive shove
And turned for the skies above.