In a bedroom in small-town Pennsylvania,
you’ll find an unmade bed,
a pile of clothes on the floor—
clean but not folded,
open drawers and dusty shelves,
a desk in the corner of the room
with pictures laid across it.

When I caught my first fish at six.
I held it at arm’s length by the fishing line
to avoid the slimy scales,
a frown on my face from being forced
to sit silently in the cold.

When my family went to Marco Island,
my sister and I, sifting sand for the best seashells
in our matching swimsuits and hats.
Mom and dad’s fights forgotten in our fun.

High school graduation
posing with my best friend since first grade,
diplomas in one hand and an extra cap held between us
because not everyone survived all four years.

Move-in day at college,
sitting on my raised bed with a grey comforter
and two decorative pillows the color of cotton candy.
Sweat on my brow from southern humidity
and moving furniture without the help of a father.

The pictures are merely snapshots
that lack the full story.

How I learned what it meant for love to fall apart
when I was eight years old.
My sister warned me before it happened,
told me what a divorce was.
I mistook her for joking until they called us upstairs.
Dad cried when they told us, but mom held her tears
until the day he left. The sounds of her cries
escaping from behind a closed door.
“This doesn’t mean we don’t love each other.”
But that’s exactly what it meant.

How I was taught by my father that love is conditional,
and I repeatedly needed to prove myself
through good grades and unquestioning obedience.
Forced to stay home to spend time with the family,
sitting wordlessly on the couch while he watched TV.
Made guilty for wanting to spend time with friends
because that somehow meant that I was a bad daughter.
It’s funny—I never asked myself if he was a good father.

If you look harder at the bedroom,
you’ll find journals filled with bitter words,
screws from disassembled pencil sharpeners, loose razors, and Aquaphor,
food wrappers stuffed in hidden places,
a closet brimming with junk and pairs of shoes,
evidence of a story untold. Until you.

With a personal trainer and a former Olympic champion for parents, it's no wonder that Summer Needs is a little water baby. The six-week-old daughter of Rebecca Adlington and Harry Needs has only just arrived into the world, but she's already enjoyed a dip in the pool three times.

Becky, who has previously said that giving birth was harder than winning her gold medals, has opened up about her baby's first swimming lesson – and how much motherhood has changed her life.

"It was absolutely brilliant," Becky told HELLO! Online of Summer's first dip. "You never know how babies are going to react but Summer was absolutely brilliant in the water. When we first bathed her, she just screamed the whole time so I was a bit worried but now she loves bath time."

Baby Summer was just three and a half weeks old when she first had a splash in the pool, and since then, new parents Becky and Harry have taken their daughter back twice.

"We both love being in the water so for us, it's amazing that we can take her in and share this family time together," said Becky. "Harry and I go in the water and pass her to one another and take turns going under the water. She comes back up, blinks a lot and there's been no tears at all. It's going really well so far."

Calling it her best memory yet, Becky, 26, added: "That's the one thing I was so excited about, taking her swimming and buying the costumes. She can't do much at this stage – we can't take her to the zoo and she doesn't really play with toys yet – but swimming is the one thing she can do and we can all do it together as a family."

Speaking about her little one, Becky, who says Summer has her eyes and Harry's nose, said: "She's really content. She's really laid back and chilled but when she wants something, like her ***** changed or she wants food, she definitely lets you know about it. She's a bit feisty in that way and she doesn't give you much warning.

"It's like, 'I want it now'. And you have to let her scream for a little bit while you get it ready and you're like, 'Okay Summer just chill out, you've literally gone from fast asleep to bawling your head off!' She's a bit impatient like us as well."

While Becky has been on maternity leave, personal trainer Harry went straight back to work after one week, but the nature of his job – working in the early mornings and late at night – has meant that he hasn't missed out on taking care of Summer during the day.

"Harry's definitely hands-on," said the former Olympian. "He's been changing her and feeding her. We share the responsibility and he's around for everything – he's seen Summer smile for the first time. It's hard for him because he's juggling work with family time but he's been absolutely amazing."

The Mansfield-born star has fully embraced her new role as a mother – something she has always wanted to be.

"Life is completely different but not in a bad way," she admitted. "You have to plan a bit more, you can't just walk out the house, but at the same time I've always wanted to be a mum.

"It's amazing how you love your baby straight away. You can't really explain it, you can't describe it. People spoke to me before about unconditional love and that you'll do anything for your baby, but you don't really realise it until it happens to you. It's bizarre because you don't know them and they don't know you but you just love them so much. It's absolutely amazing.

"It's definitely been life-changing but I guess it'll change when I go back to work, when Summer starts nursery. You have to accept that life will never be the same again but that's what's so exciting."

Describing motherhood in a nutshell, Becky added: "I'm such a family girl, it's amazing having that family time. It makes you realise that that's all you really need in life, as long as your family are happy and healthy then that's all that matters."

It's early days but the couple have already spoken about having more children.

Becky said: "About two days after I gave birth, Harry asked, 'So babe, when are we gonna try for another?' I said 'Not yet, I need my body to recover!' Nine months being pregnant is a long time! We do want a big family and we'd like a close age gap between our children, but we also want to give our time to Summer."

Becky, who has partnered with HUGGIES® Little Swimmers®, is encouraging all parents to don their swimsuits and have fun with their little ones in the water – even if babies and children are a little hesitant at first.

"For a kid who's absolutely tiny, that big pool is very, very big," said Becky. "Parents should recognise that each step is a huge achievement. Even if their child is just sitting on the side with their feet in the pool, that's better than last week when they just stood around.

"It's about persistence and taking them swimming regularly, and then that fear will disappear. Also taking them out of their lessons and going together as a family is good. If your children see you in the water as a parent, they'll know it's not a scary place."

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I want summer like I want you, constantly. I’m tired of cold that snatches my breath and hope. I want the trees to regain their decency and cover their bare limbs. Wearing the greenest fullest blouses. I want the grass to grow. Thunder to roll and rain to fall. I want fat drops to bounce of the pavement, to wash my face and hair.

I want the sun to bath my skin in beauty, making it glow with warmth. I want dresses and shorts and skirts. I want brown legs and flip-flops. I want turquoise pools and florescent swimsuits.

I’m sick of cold fingers and toes. I’m tired of heaters and blankets. I want to roll down the windows. I want sweat on my back and only sheets on my bed. I’d love warm nights, drinking sweet tea, and making love beneath the stars. I wish for glowing street lights and lake nights. I want to sit in the windows of cars at sonic.

I want barbeque sunflower seeds and the fourth of July.

I want field parties with only beer and red bull, and only bonfires to see by. I want fireflies and chigger bites. Lemonade out of mason jars.
I miss cotton, and sandals. I miss volleyball, ***** feet, and ponytails. But what I miss most about summer is freedom. Those summer night driving under an endless sky of stars.

I wonder if they're happy.
They sure do seem so.
They're always talking about stealing their daddy's Jaguars and having beer blasts and getting in to fights and being bros and getting tan and buying new swimsuits and getting a call from different modeling agencies and crashing cars and smoking cigarillos and drinking fancy wine and going to their beach house and deciding between Harvard and Yale or Porsche and Mustang and did we win the football game and making new friends and oh my God Stacy actually said that and dude, I totally ****** her and my math teacher is such a ***** and my parents are putting me into boarding school and check out my new Jordans and did you watch the sunset last night?

I don't know if they're having fun, but it sure seems like it.

*I wonder if they're having fun. It sure seems like it.
They're always talking about hitch hiking to the next city over and going to shows and drinking PBR and sneaking out at night and yeah dude, that party was sick and my tumblr is so famous right now and check out my new denim jacket and smoking **** and getting in to fights and lifting cigarettes from stores and Austin and Katie slept together and Kyle broke edge and I'm still working at McDonalds and yeah I'm still driving my '93 Ford Ranger and smoking hookah and watching Mean Girls and yeah I love the ocean and check out my new Kicks and did you watch the sunset last night?

I don't know if they're having fun, but it sure seems like it.

The wine plays tricks on young mortals
On occasions bathed in pale sunlight
Reason will be lost lost well before dawn
The youth cannot rest
Till only caveman instincts persist

Do not try and hid, nor sleep
The youth will scream you awake
And the youth will give you drugs
And the youth will drag you across town
And shove you into basements, backseats,
Dive bars, dorm rooms, and late night beaches
With swimsuits strongly discouraged.

And the youth will leave you be
Only when the youth has burned you up
Leaving you to the heap of a soul you have left
The youth came last night
To finish me off.
They came with whiskey and women.
And I succumbed to the temptation
Of another blurred night.

Why do they call them bathing suits if you're not supposed to be bathing in them?
Interesting how we coin terms in this silly world
But i guess i shouldn't call it silly due to some of the silly things we have done and i've done.
They should just keep it one term- *swimsuits

Skinny like a Starbucks drink with zero sugar, zero guilt and full of almond-milk joy.

Skinny like a microwaved meal, perfectly portioned and easy to count.

Skinny like  two diet cokes and a cigarette for lunch.

Skinny like Adderall, a high dose for higher grades.

Skinny like late nights and random *** with strangers.

Skinny like virginity.

Skinny like binge-purge-repeat.

Skinny like perfection, like mints and sadness and tight little swimsuits.

Skinny like a disorder.

Skinny like control out of control.

Skinny like a diagnosis.

Skinny like suffering.

Skinny like her.

Sun feigns heat
in a clear slate of blue above;
I gaze upon pale, brown hills and fields
through the smoke of my breath
wishing it would at least snow.

There was talk of cow-tipping
when I was in fifth grade,
but cows would've broken their necks.
Ground covered in frozen grass
is no comfort for fallen cows at 15 Fahrenheit.

Our small lake
transformed into a debating ground for skaters and hockey players,
each vying for control over the weekend's
primary source of entertainment.
(The dreadful alternative: afternoons shopping with parents.)

When it finally snowed, a wonderland was made,
a knee-high, get-out-of-school-free card.
We charted expeditions in corn fields, wooded creeks
and stone-colored barns that were beguiling in the white
of Chadds Ford pastures like untended English castles.

Woods like a Pollack of burnt sienna and white,
their only sound is weight of snow bearing down on limb.
Beyond those whispers, just a roaring silence
when I'm still as ice fingers
trying to touch the ground from the roof.

The cats of Baldwin's Book Barn nap easily within,
as we dig for a pearl amongst makeshift shelves
full of hard-bound reads for snow-bound youth.
These felines, grown, need not the words,
but the pages themselves for fine beds.

A blue-white glow from outside casts a cold light,
illuminating prints of Helga and Christina's World,
a reminder to all who live down the road.
On such a winter day, I didn't care to remember
that soon there would be Spring kittens in the books,
and a lake full of children's swimsuits.

Three children sit behind a dumpster
outside of the Pier Pizza Parlor
unaware that they are children
Seven years later walking past Bridge Square
a girl remembers

**** we're out of cigarettes
and my mom's fucken car is locked. man.
and joints rolled with single ply toilet paper
burning through precious *** in the seaside woods where Indians
used to die

She, curling hands,
flattens a photograph of three kids in swimsuits and baseball caps
crouched under the rainy eaves of a waterslide
lighting a one hitter and gazing at their tiny dying world
now like a centerfold
it's covered in lubricant sweat and spittle
after too much time under the wrong beds

She sits on this small fountain
wistfully blinking and ******* down the cigarettes she wishes she could lock back up
kneading her dead legs and wondering
if it's better to have a past smudged by erasers
or mottled with bruises

Stop looking at me like you look up to me,
and start looking like you're in love with me.

Forget those spiders,
cut yourself free.

Get into my orbit.
Talk me through my destruction.

I'll distract you from yours.
I'll put on that tie you like,

and you will wear that black dress.
We will pretend we invented fashion.

You will get the eyes.
I will get the eyes.

Get into my orbit.
I'll tell you anything you'd like.

I wouldn't mind if you would cover me with night,
and silently rest your head next to mine.

Stop looking at me like you look up to me,
and start looking at me as if you can set me free.

I only see you in fevers of inappropriate dreams,
you only speak to me when everyone else you know is asleep.

I will make coffee,
you will bring a sewing kit.

We will talk about finding the bottom
of the human soul on drunken nights.

We will say **** the indie kids
and the 70s throwbacks.

We will wear swimsuits
when no one is around.

We will talk with good humor
about what we'd say at the apocalypse's final address.

Get into my orbit.
We'll compare scars and run from all our old towns.

Stop looking at me like you look up to me,
and start rewriting yourself with me.

There was chatter reflecting off the water just like the moon. The Milky Way was swimming with us, wrapped in algae and moss. We had no swimsuits, only spontaneity and laughter. We were far away from trivialities where there was no light pollution, you could see so far outward into everything. We were not looking up, we were looking out at what we are part of. Light, so much light. When our thoughts were finally chilled like iced lemonade, we ran through bushes and flailed in the mud to the car. We drove. Once sitting on our bed, a delicious thought bubbled into reality.
              We discussed it, unanimously deciding on this nights adventure...we'd enjoy the first rays of the morning while seating comfortable at Sacajawea Peak.
              Eager legs kicked and finally slept…too soon later, a buzz of a telephone awoke us, then another. I bounced out of the covers and to the kitchen to prepare a hurried breakfast of peanut butter and fruit roll ups for us, nutrition was priority. Then the clock blinked 3 AM.
Whines squeaked from tired mouths, but excitement prevailed. We packed into our seats and struggled to keep our eyes open, but the drive was bumpy and our sore butts kept us from forgetting the purpose of our trip. We were there to make our lives radical, and you can’t sleep in moments like these. 4 AM screamed at me, we had to hurry. I plowed my way up that mountain as the sun painted the tips of the mountains red. We crossed streams, tripped on rocks, marveled at climate change and the disappearance of the snow we had skied on just a week before. As the incline increased to nearly vertical, we met up with the mountain goats. Their tiny hooves danced on the faces of cliffs and I stood on the trail not more than a meter away. They smiled at us, said good morning, and we went on our way, huffing it up the face. As the sun’s light began to engulf the sky, we watched as the snow capped ridgeline shined pink and gold. A mountain shades us but as we reach the peak, the sun splashes our face, I felt godly. The sun has risen, and so have we. This is why we are alive; this is why we are happy. The valley below us still dozes, and we sit on top a mountain wide-awake. There is no item I could ask for that could ever give me this happiness. I do not climb mountains so that the world can see me, but so I can see the world…and it is so beautiful.

when the world,
was much younger
and i was a stupid-crazy
girl-ly-chick, enamoured
with her youth.

i drove, a sunshine,
lemon, yellow bottomed, white pith on top combi van. coyly, cloyingly named Mello Martha.

it was...surfboards and swimsuits,
egg and bacon sangers,
early morning breezes,
after a blitz at the breadbox.

before... changing into
the structured, tortured baby, bank teller blues,
in the back,doors left open.

it was... rockin, knockin,
***, on credit,
to a promised future,
alluded to, but postponed,
for the moment.

it was... bruised back and
grazed knees,
harder, deeper oh god!
oh god! please... faster, fucken frenzies,
on a saturday night.

it was....running away to nowhere,
to find myself,
then finding me,
running away from,
the self i didn't want to know.
noway, nowhere, nohow.

it was... a barrel of monkeys, a barrel of laughs,
a keg of beer,
a box of wine,
under the crowded stars.

it was.... a roadtrip,
up the coast,
midnight bonfire,
midnight munchies,
playing hunches,
exploring reefs and reefers and such.

it was...far from family
and church rules,
a friendly rebellion,
of loud, proud youth.
totally and brazenly,
uncouth
it was... wham! and m.j.
cindy and boy george's culture club ,paperlace,
billy idol and the beach boys.
sung with abandon,
at spinal tap level eleven.

it was... peaceful, quiet, sleeping grace.
insanely in love with...
i forgot his name.

it was.... the birth of bodaciously me.
all brass hair and bosoms,
wild and carefree.

it was ....so long ago,

it was... yesterday night,

when i saw... Mello Martha's identical twin,
stopped at a traffic light.
it was... sunshine and lemon, bitter and sweet,
as she sailed off, down the street.
i sat and watched,
wist, full of recollect,
far and away, from my presently minded place...
sitting in, the driver's seat,
of my mom-blue subaru.

I bought a new swimsuit today,
pulling the material tight across my body.
Seams stretching,
Arms stretching as we bath in the free sunshine.
Bare feet, bare skin, and we bare our hearts as well.
You drink in the air, and I drink in you.
Too much, too fast.
Intoxication, infatuation-
found side by side in my thesaurus that sits on my shelf.
My shelf that holds all my swimsuits,
all with the tags still attached.

Punxsutawney Phil
You're so furry
And adorable
But your forecasts
Are deplorable
Thirty-nine percent true
That makes you a fraud
But cute eyes have you
Therefore a god

Early spring you say
Yet snow and low temps
Flourish today
So conflicted
By this contrast
Indoors now restricted
Godhog is Devine at last

Tomorrow swimming
No matter the mortal's forecast
You say the sun is brimming
The masses praise
Nearly naked in the snow
Why the wintery haze
No shadow, it is so

Now we stand
Swimsuits adorned
Frozen faces
Countenances Forlorn
Faithful in our belief
In you and yours
In fur and sharp teeth
Buds and flowers restore
Trees and life anew
What could go wrong
A groundhog we pray to

In Phil we trust
What's wrong with us?

In swimsuits which means
essentially naked
the girls gather at the bridge
gasping giggling
budding bodies bouncing
as they climb over the steel rail
stand at the outside edge
hold hands
scream

and jump
the scary plunge
to cool water, Donner Creek where
toe-touching the sandy bottom
they burst upward through bubbles
to sunlight, to air
whipping hair
with laughter, relief,
stronger now,
sweet courage
with a touch of spice.

Frog-kicking to shore
they smile
at the baggy-legged boys
who dared them
standing hands in pockets
smaller now
feigning indifference
unworthy of their loveliness.

**** me in a summer dress
all pastels and spaghetti straps
kicked off ballet slippers and a green cardigan

sweat with me in a bus stop
we wait to ride downtown
our cheeks sun-burn blushed and shoulders freckled

swim with me in the river
polka dotted swimsuits and a sweaty beer
inner-tubes and soggy hair. a big wet dog.

sit in the grass and itch your legs
wearing jean shorts and cotton t shirts
black sunglasses and white earphones, hot cigarettes

invest in a fan for your room
while we sweat through the blue dotted sheets
peel off sticky underwear and wipe your damp forehead

washing grass stains from my dress
pastels stained and straps loose
ballet slippers and a green cardigan

**** me in a summer dress

Shorts are the worst
Because they
Show Me And
My scars
Are not for show
And tell today
Swimsuits
Are the worst
Because they show
Everything Out there
Thin streams of
Pain

Remember the evening you took the windsurfer poster off the wall?
The one with the two strangers in green swimsuits
riding the waves
or maybe just trying to stay on their slippery boards.
I guess, in retrospect, that **** poster had no place on the wall –
an empty room really doesn’t deserve decorations.

You slammed the front door when you left
and it was strange because those you left inside seemed stronger
so, as proof, we smashed all the clocks and held their hands
because tears had never flowed so fast
for someone we would see again on the weekend.

Is it selfish of me to mourn my skin? Having seen the patients around me with no surface left to theirs, how can I still mourn a flesh Ive always taken for granted? Now I kiss the places the fire kissed me in hopes of aiding in the healing. But how hard the healing has been. Those first three hours in the emergency room when I swore that I could still feel the fire, as white coat blurs of faces peeled my layers. I cried out for each screaming cell. My eyes swelled shut to spare my weak mind. Skin, I would no longer want to look at. Skin, I spent hours tanning and pampering. Skin, I planned on wearing with confidence. Shorts and swimsuits, summertime smiles. I wouldn't know for some time what I lost when I was burned. I'm still learning to love what I have gained. Strength, slowly strung itself about me, day by day I dreaded the coming day less and less. I managed as we all do. I managed to scrub my own skin raw just like the doctors. I managed half smiles and choked laughter. I managed positive thoughts and dreams of recovery on the horizon. It looked so far yet so beautiful, so enticing. It is nearer now, close enough to feel the glow. Yet, it comes not without struggles of its own. See, I must remember to love myself. When the last of my strength seeps out with my tears. I must remember to be grateful. For my body's determination to heal has only sprouted from the days warped with dread and pain, I have grown. I may not like what I see but I needed to love my insides more anyways. This charred skin is a lesson I should wear without shame. It is only a tribute to my strength. It is only a picture of my resilience.

**** me in a summer dress
all pastels and spaghetti straps
a shirt like a swallowed up picnic

sweat with me in a smoky car
panting through the skunk
our cheeks sun-burn blushed and shoulders freckled

swim with me in the river
polka dotted swimsuits and a sweaty beer
inner-tubes and soggy hair

sit in the grass and itch your legs
tiny black shorts and cotton t shirts
a big blanket, hot cigarettes, feeding ducks

invest in a fan for my room
while we sweat through blue sheets
peel off sticky underwear and wipe your damp forehead

wiping dirt from my knees
pastels stained and straps loose, slipping down
pink sunglasses and a picnic shirt

**** me in a summer dress

All day it rained,
watching through the window, pained.
Children restless, stuck inside.
Nothing doing in this tide.

To the shops, join the queue.
All the drivers in a stew.
Parking chaos, anger raised,
deftly weaving through the crazed.

Money flowing like the rain.
Credit cards delay the pain.
Mac sales up, swimsuits down,
hunting bargains like a clown.

As a start, you should always project the opposite of what you're actually going to do. If you're going to cut yourself, smile! People will tell you you're the happiest girl they know. If you're going to starve yourself, have desserts. You'll have your mom telling you to stop eating so much. The great thing about people is that, once they see you a certain way, almost nothing will change that.

You can't get lazy though. Always take care of the evidence. I don't mean hide it, because hidden things can still be found. If you need to hide evidence, you've already been too careless. Taking care of the evidence is part of the plan. You can cut your arms, but only in winter, when its normal to wear long sleeves. Switch to your inner thighs for summer, and take care the swimsuits you choose. You'll have to eat dinner with the family, but you can throw away most of your lunch during the school day without anyone noticing.

IF, and I do mean if, someone asks questions, don't panic. Trust that your precautions have protected you. The only thing panic can do is make you defensive and getting defensive is the surest way to get caught. Surprise is better. "Really? Me lose weight? I don't think so. I hadn't noticed it."

The fewer words you say the better. You don't want them hearing something in your voice. Keep your focus on whatever you were doing before, extra points if its your phone. Sometimes all you need is a disinterested shrug for the whole conversation to go away.

IF you get someone who is unusually persistent, still don't panic. Turn to half-truths instead. They sound plausible, and people eat them up. "Oh I would never do anything bad to lose weight. I guess I might've lost a little because we're in season right now." If you're feeling a little irony, thank them for their concern. It'll make them feel good about themselves and the whole thing in general. I doubt you'll ever hear another question from them again.

Just remember this: there is a trade off for everything you do. You have chosen, in order to get away with whatever you're doing, to live the life of a liar. You have sacrificed your innocence, your fun and your conscience to control the truth. The life of a liar is no easy way to live.
*Do you regret it?

There was chatter reflecting off the water just like the moon. Th­e Milky Way was swimming with us, wrapped in algae and moss. We h­ad no swimsuits, only spontaneity and laughter. We were far away from trivialities where there was no light pollution, you could see so far outward into everything. We­ were not looking up, we were looking out at what we are part of.­ Light, so much light. When our thoughts were finally chilled lik­e iced lemonade, we ran through bushes and flailed in the mud to the car. We drove. Once sitting on our bed, a delic­ious thought bubbled into reality.
We discussed it, unanimously deciding on this nights adventure...we'­d enjoy the first rays of the morning while seated comfortably at the top­ of Sacajawea Peak.
Eager legs kicked and finally­ slept…too soon later, a buzz of a telephone awoke us, then another. I bounced out of the covers and to the ki­tchen to prepare a hurried breakfast of peanut butter and fruit roll ups. Nutrition was priority. The clock blinked 3 AM.
Whines squeaked from tired mouths, but excitement­ prevailed. We packed into our seats and struggled to keep our eyes open, but the drive­ was bumpy and our sore butts kept us from forgetting the purpose­ of our trip. We were there to make our lives radical, and you can’t sleep in moments like these­. 4 AM screamed at me, we had to hurry. I plowed my way up the five miles of that mo­untain as the sun painted the tops of the mountains red. We crossed streams, trippe­d on rocks, marveled at climate change and the disappearance of the snow we h­ad skied on just a week before. As the incline increased to nearl­y vertical, we met up with the mountain goats. Their tiny hooves danced on the faces of cliffs a­nd I stood on the trail not more than a meter away. They smiled at us, said good mo­rning, and we went on our way, huffing it up the face. As the sun’s light began­ to engulf the sky, we watched as the snowcapped ridgeline shined pink and gold. A mountain shaded us but as we reached the peak, the sun splashed our face, I felt god­ly. The sun had risen, and so had we. This is why we are alive; this is why we are happy. The valley below us still dozed, and we sat atop a mountain wide-awake. There is no item I could ask for that could ever give me this happiness. I do not climb mountains so that the world can see me, but so I can see the world and it is so beautiful.

I stood by your side by the dock
watching the great ships cruising
the seas, our silky black dreads
swaying in the breeze, our swimsuits
shimmering, emerald eyes in sync
with the landscape.  

The rhythm of upbeat trees grooving
in the cityscape, beautiful blue jays
flying in the air, and we held onto
each other beneath the horizon,
shouldering the lovely emotions
captured in our souls, the smell of
our alluring fragrances meshed together.  

We listened to the waves breathe over
us, soft sounds of amazing grace,
the sunset upon our bronze skin,
as we smiled at the vivid scenery
encompassing us.  

You were my bright hope, a feathered
wing of radiant existences, a velvet
vowel draped in finery, glistening
as the moon that hangs in its
scintillating nation.  

I enjoyed our moments in the arms
of each other, the avenues of affection
and depth, sharing a slice of cheesecake
and passionate kisses, chuckling as
our mouths touched, the night slowly
falling upon our starry flesh.  

I did not wish to leave your side and
as we continued watching the waves float
in the distance, the gulls rising slowly
above water, their serene depiction
deepening within our dynasty, you
were my musical composition
illuminating my mind, an exhilarating
note of exciting chemistry.

I stand outside
And can't help feeling the cold wind.
It's freezing,
I can't run away because I'm in the middle of nowhere.
So I pile on jackets, sweaters, coats, or anything I can find to keep warm.
Nothing works,
I'm still getting colder.
But I look at a distance
And notice people playing in swimsuits and shorts.
I look up and realize that they are under the same warm sun I am under.
So why is it I don't feel warm?
Why am I just getting colder?
What do they have that I don't?
I look deep inside them,
And see something I thought I had until I looked in myself...

A Heart....

Their heart beats joyful warmth
Through their body.
However the heart doesn't run on its own.
These people have love to keep theirs running.
They have that special somebody that gives their life worth and meaning.
Under any kinds of conditions, they can hold each other.
They can keep each other warm even when the sun doesn't shine...

This is why I'm cold...

I don't have anyone to hold,
Or any beautiful person to warm me up with their smile. I don't have a heart because I was never given one...

I am cold because I am dead...

Running within youth’s river
The water cold around my ankles
Laughter loitering in the air
My friends and I
Were fond of infinity
Our swimsuits were scented in it
Endless Days
Endless Nights
Endless Homework
Yet who could see
That youth’s river led to the senile sea

Tank tops and flip flops
Lounge chairs and boat docks
Swimsuits and tanlines
I need my sunshine!
Pretty daze
Of the sunshine’s rays,
Through the wait of winter
It’s
My sunny daze
That takes me to
My happy place.

the packing was 7 minutes and the parking was
an hour so during the ride
i lathered myself in baby sunscreen to prevent
early aging..
mom said so so it must be true.

i head to the boardwalk and the beach is filled with
multicolored umbrellas
seagulls relentlessly following people for their food
revealing swimsuits and a whole lotta stretch marks
and mixed faces alike
and i only have one thought in my mind..

what was i thinking..

skimming a rock
across the waters
fills me with
melancholy thoughts
and youthful memories
of happier days

unhindered laughter
innocent crushes
bare feet
swimsuits
wet hair
freckled faces
long walks
   longer talks
innocent kisses
opened dreams

oh, to soak my mind
with adolescence
to free my barbed thinking
   and instead
fill my head with innocence
once again

inexperience breeds
an unbridled
exploration.