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Jan 2018 · 562
Kentucky Winter.
yellah girl Jan 2018
red robins play in
snow covered trees of
emerald, ruby ribbons
singing a song, whistling
their gemstone tune
Nov 2017 · 366
home in a holler. pt 1
yellah girl Nov 2017
i don't want to, but if i did
you would be there, in blue
jean overalls, no shirt, just skin
with your hair pulled back in a
Kentucky Wildcat baseball cap.

on the porch you would reign
with a cigarette between your teeth
& a piece of wood in your palm
whittling & whistling the night
away, the stars twinkling away.

i don't want to, but if i did
you would be there, in the morning
while i make a *** of coffee, black
like the coal dust lingering on
top of our sunrise kisses.

deep in the Appalachian range,
where the starlight becomes our
city lights, our home in a holler
calls to my heart, and i want nothing
more than to be held
in your arms.
Unrequited longing is unusual. Sometimes, you don't realize you want something until you no longer have it.
Nov 2017 · 585
fate.
yellah girl Nov 2017
i'm scared & i don't
know if it's because you
are so bright & real,
so unlike the toys i'm
used to holding in my
palms.

you are a shining sea
in the midst of the
charcoal thunder growling
over my head, confusing
my direction.

you are a silver dagger
embedded deep in my heart,
something i thought i had lost
a long time ago, deep in the
sugar white sand.

when i wake up, i see you
& when i sleep, i dream of
you, always lingering on
the edge of my tongue, so
sweet, so sharp, so strange.

when i look into your eyes of
ember, i see the entire universe
laid out neatly like a map, ready
to jump in, scared to let go.
Unusual to feel things when you've been taught to keep everything locked inside for three years.
Nov 2017 · 209
van gogh love letter.
yellah girl Nov 2017
he painted me from
dusk blue stardust &
pearl pink sea
foam.

his hands that held
the horse hair brush
were trembling timid
nervous, blush red.

his eyes were confident
bold like the emerald green
gemstone he so earnestly
desired to be.

van gogh swallowed yellow
paint in hopes of consuming the sun
so that his flesh and bone would
shine as bright as his heart.
yellah girl Nov 2017
the girl was beautiful even then
a blur of charcoal and sea foam
subtle curves with soft, yearning
eyes
her adoration was reflected in the
hooded
eyes of the
painter who laid her skeleton out
to dry.

he spoke to her often, his only friend,
filling her with ideas of sea shell pink
lips, and a rose red heart to match
his own
his idle fingers held the brush, dipped
in rose and sea shell dust,
but he did not fill in
the cream canvas skeleton.

the artist was a gargoyle in stretched
flesh, garishly painted in obscene brights
lime green, neon orange, fire engine red
but with the wipe of the artist cloth
the colors fell away and she would see
the monotone palette that the paint kept
hidden away.

with trembling hands, she took the oil
pastel from the gargoyle's hands, and
slowly, timidly, colored in her own
heart, filled in her own eyes, and colored
in her void until she became a tiger blossom
lily of her own accord.
Don't let someone dictate how colorful or not you are in your own life.
Oct 2017 · 360
highway home.
yellah girl Oct 2017
growing up, i lived on the
highways between FL & KY
either in the cab of my dad's truck
or the backseat of my mom's ford.

streetlights became stars, &
the stars became my universe
i saw my first meteor at 3am
on the road back from TN.

Halloweens were spent in the cab
with Bugle's on my fingertips,
cackling like a witch.

Christmas was an adventure,
stuffed into the backseat between
blankets & winter clothes.

breakfast was a McGriddle,
lunch was a bag of chips & soda
from the gas stations & truck stops,
and dinner was my favorite, always
at ******* Barrel, beside the fire place
surrounding by my family & others.

the highway is my home, &
i wouldn't have it any other way.
Looking back, I see now that I had a very nomadic childhood, either traveling across the state lines with my dad or my mom, moving every 3 years when the bug bites.
Oct 2017 · 395
unoriginal.
yellah girl Oct 2017
me too.

six or seven years old,
on my Little Mermaid bed,
playing doctor or predator,
with my innocence.

me too.

eight or nine years old,
in children's church groups,
asking me why i didn't shave
or wear a bra.

me too.

eleven years old, it's the
holiday season, you're my
favorite uncle, so why do you
stroke my breast and cradle my
***?

me too.

in high school, everyone's doing
it, it's not a big deal.
you're such a *****, why can't
you just send me a ****?

me too.

in college, you convinced me
i'm mature enough, i'm old enough,
so why did i feel so terrified to say
no? why did i cover my eyes and bite
my tongue?
Vague, but there. It's enough. Over two decades, multiple men, one survivor.
Oct 2017 · 233
Cultic
yellah girl Oct 2017
at first, you were two burnished
roses, so pure and bright that i
thought you were made of gold.

you were spiritual parents to me &
taught me right from wrong, and told
me that i wasn't good enough, but that
you were great enough for all of us.

you placed a dunce cap on my head,
but you painted them gold and called them
crowns, and i believed you, you coward.

you kissed my brow, sweetly, softly,
like a vampire caresses his victim's neck,
before he plunges deep & ***** the red
from their veins.

you cradled my throat in your claws
and told me that no one else was
on my level, that no one else
could get this close to you.

i told you i dreamed of becoming a
writer, you told me to burn my journals.
i told you i dreamed of becoming a
painter, you told me to trash my brushes.

i gave you the key to my secret dreams,
to my most vulnerable place, & you
swallowed it whole, like a greedy sparrow.

for 3 years, you dangled my stolen heart
in front of me, & laughed as i chased it like
the hog-tied mule that i had become.

then one day, you got lazy & you slipped
up, you fool, you left the key & my heart
on that pedestal you brazenly sit upon.

i took it back, i swallowed my heart &
unlocked my spirit, free at long last,
and saw that you were the Wizard of Oz,
hiding behind your ratty curtains.

i laughed & i cried, when i realized
what a fool i had been, how childish
i had been, to willingly give you
my life.

you were nothing but stones dipped
in glistening blood, drained from the
blind people you feast upon, you glutton.

you broke my spine & you tried to
**** my spirit, but you didn't know,
I am the Phoenix Rising, &
you will not hold me any longer.
I have been brainwashed for three years and I am finally waking up. Life is beautiful and I am meant to create.
Sep 2017 · 294
temptation.
yellah girl Sep 2017
the gray storm pounds on my doorstep
a wizened man bent as a willow
he breathes temptation
but i do not
inhale.
Sep 2017 · 244
six words.
yellah girl Sep 2017
empty bed;
      empty bowl;
            empty heart.
A tribute to my best friend of nearly 15 years, my shih-tzu, Rex. I had to let go of him in January, and it still breaks my heart.
yellah girl Sep 2017
the circus train comes to town once a year,
carrying Russian ballerinas & corporate America dropouts.
she brings an irresistible bouquet of
caramel apples & greasepaint, of
cotton candy & mechanical smoke.
the circus is a seductive beast, she'll grab your heart
between her teeth & she won't let go, like a
rabid dog.

when the show begins on opening night,
you'll be sure to grab a front row seat, right in the
Grand Stand, among the soccer moms & their sticky-faced toddlers.
you'll feel the childish delight bubble
in your chest when the music swells, when the elephants march
& the clowns tumble out in garish colors.

after the show, you'll stumble to the three rings with the
toddlers & their tired moms, right to the center ring, don't be
shy when the clown dressed in yellow & black,
like a bumblebee, comes towards you, a devilish grin on
his painted coal black lips.
your knees will tremble, you'll turn as red as his big nose, when he pulls your back to his solid chest, & he begins to juggle right in front of you.

"stick around, after closing" he murmurs in your ear, "that's when the real circus begins."

the circus is painted bright, a swirling mass of
red & blue, with sparks of yellow, ribbons of pink.
even when the show is over, the mystery is still
there, the sweet seduction lingers, like an old lover's fingers can trace circles on your skin in the dead of night.

when the bumblebee clown drags you around town that night,
as if he lives there & not you, you'll go along with him,
your heart racing fast, as fast as the girl dressed in
pink spandex flew from the cannon across the circus ceiling,
how could you have forgotten that?

he'll take you to McDonald's, ask you to pay for the meal, he's broke until Thursday at 2. of course. you split a small
fry and a chocolate shake, by then it's midnight,
he performs some simple magic tricks, balancing a
chair on the edge of his chin, snagging a shining quarter
from your brunette curls, watch out, girl, he's reeling you in,
he's as seductive as the circus.

he will walk you back to your college dorm &
he's sure to mention how it's been years since he has
been inside a dormitory, since clown college, yes it's real.
your roommate is gone & you're not ready to say goodbye
just yet, so you'll sign him in & guide him to your third floor
room.

he marvels at your textbooks & cuddles your teddy bear
brought from home, while you drink him in, solid, squat,
a true Texican, his skin is brown as caramel, & you wander
if he will taste just as sweet. he'll notice your blush, & pull
you close, pinch your hips, nuzzle your neck & kiss you hard,
maybe a bit too hard.

he lays you on your back, & you're naked, you're scared,
vulnerable, you watch him dip his head & kiss you, nibble you in that sweet, sweet forbidden spot. there's a black coal
in your chest, in the pit of your stomach, you're disgusted,
you're curious, you taste the circus firsthand, gagging.

the circus will remain in town for
an entire week, & for an entire week you have a
circus clown as a boyfriend.
you take him on adventures around your college campus,
to your favorite burger spot, to the big water balloon fight
& he'll show you the circus world, you'll hug
an elephant, you'll drink your first beer in Clown Alley,
& you'll watch the show a dozen times.

he'll write you a love letter on your skin, caramel drips on
China porcelain, he'll leave bruises in the shapes of hearts,
& you'll cry when he leaves, it's only been a week, but
it's been a lifetime. he'll hold you tight, too tight, and he'll whisper,

"it's only a year, i'll see you in a year."

when the circus train leaves, the asphalt lot will be
conspicuously empty, except for a trampled clown nose,
much like your aching heart. you'll feel numb & blue,
you'll cling to your phone, the clown promised you
he would call.
you fall asleep cradling your phone to your chest, startle awake when he finally calls you, it's 4 in the morning, you have an early class, but that can wait, his voice is on the other line.

you'll lose a lot more than sleep when you fall in love
with a circus clown, you have to conform to his schedule,
you see, he is the one calling the shots, not you, not we.
you'll start to slip up in your classes, all you do is stare at your phone screen, who cares about supply vs. demand, anyway?

you hitch a ride to see the clown half a year later, you could
hardly stand him being an hour away, & you'll fly into his arms
like a trapeze artist, after the show, he'll carry you like a bride
to his coffin
bed & you're naked again, scared, vulnerable, he's all the way
he's grunting and sweating, and you're cowering, numb.

you leave 15 minutes later, with shaky thighs, you're slightly
nauseated, you try to kiss him goodbye, but he pushes you away,
he's got eyes on the concession stand girl, the one with
raven black hair and a Marilyn Monroe piercing. your heart drops as you get into the car, your friend begs you to talk, but you can't,
you're confused, you're scared, you won't see the clown
for some time to come.

you try to focus on your schoolwork, but your As slip to Ds, you
try to go out with your friends, but they want to talk about
the cute guy in psychology, not about a circus clown miles away.
you forgot to do laundry, all you do is lay in bed, your dorm is
smelling moldy, your roommate starts to stay away. you're
falling, sinking into a blue sea, deep, dark, endless.

when you fall in love with a circus clown, you must know
you're just another Rube from another city, nothing special,
you see, he's got girlfriends in Florida and Las Vegas, that
concession stand girl, too, you're nothing special, girl,
not even close. you gave it all up, your love & your
bleeding heart, to a circus clown, you foolish girl, don't
you know, he'll just play you as hard as he plays in the
circus ring?
A fictitious retelling of the very non-fictitious years I spent in love with a real-life circus clown. It's been three years since my heart was broken, and I finally feel like I can tell my tale.
Sep 2017 · 297
summer is over.
yellah girl Sep 2017
we counted the lady bugs
& sang to the trees
i love you, you love me
the night was ours
& we held the stars
in our palms
the clovers stained
our hands green.

the beat to our dance
thrived in our feet
spring was the harmony
melody in buttercups
round & round, song
in our lungs.

a dose of summer
reddened our skin,
quickened the pulse
night of lady bugs
faint memory
in blackened mind.
Sep 2017 · 140
if i vanished.
yellah girl Sep 2017
you would bury me alive
& throw away the key,
and if anyone asked if you
knew where i had gone,
you would pretend you never
even knew me.

you would rip my hair from
my scalp, until i bled red
and the earth turned scarlet,
yet you would light up your
cigarette and throw the ashes
on top of me.

you would tie cement to my
ankles, and drop deep in the
sea, and as i sink, you would
plaster a blank face on and
walk to the promised land.
anger misunderstood unsure vanish
Sep 2017 · 506
Pluto.
yellah girl Sep 2017
ensconced in perpetual darkness, you sleep
restless dreams orbit your mind
yet comfort cannot be found
Pluto, the loneliest planet

not even the Sun can touch you
high school textbooks disregard you
the stars will never glimmer for you
Pluto, the loneliest planet

but have faith
dreamers and late night romantics understand you
god of the underworld exalts you, brother of darkness
New Horizons will arrive shortly, a friend for
Pluto, the loneliest planet
yellah girl Aug 2017
you make
red feather cardinals sing sweet lullabies
and tiger lilies bloom a cool spring morning

you make
grey wolves serenade a lonely Alaskan night
and wild horses thunder with renewed
vigor.

you make
long limb ballerinas pirouette on glossy marble floors
and sweet yellow fairies dance in the moonlight.

you make
the heart of my sweet beat (thud thud thud)
under a sugar kiss hypnosis.

so why do i even bother?
Aug 2017 · 176
for you.
yellah girl Aug 2017
i would gather
all the shooting stars that
fall in my waiting palms
just to give them
to you.

i would swim
to the dark abyss of the sea
and gather all the sunken treasure
just to give it
to you.

what wouldn't i do for you?
I used to know how to write poetry. Is this still a poem?
yellah girl Jul 2017
i'm coming Home
& i know it's wrong,
but all i can think,
"will i run into you?"

our Love is unrequited,
& always will be.
you can't accept my God,
& i can't accept your gender,
or lack of one? i don't know.

i'm coming Home
& i will drive
through the hollers & the hills
of E.Ky, if only for the hope
of seeing you, even briefly.

i still recall the many nights
sharing music notes & secret dreams,
yearning to feel each other, to share
the same breath & the same mattress.

i'm coming Home
& i know i won't contact you,
but my only wish is that you
would read this & come find me.

please find me.
Apr 2017 · 230
The Chase
yellah girl Apr 2017
You called yourself an adventurer, a
pathfinder, one who like to take risks,
explore places no one else would brave.

You were young & curious,
but old enough to know,
old enough to stop.

You called yourself a friend, someone
to be trusted, but you took away the
cloth, stripped naked the ******, greedy
eyes and hands, slippery words, oiled
whispered consolations, assurances.

Your tongue took paths too raw,
journeyed to depths too young to
understand, but did you care for anything
but the sweet, almost corrupt taste?

Your fingers made of ice and lead,
delved deep into forbidden passages,
ripped through pink innocence,
now bloodied devil red.

You painted kisses on a tender, fledgling
canvas, murmured sweetly to soothe,
but you could not take back the knowing
that she would never again take back
the innocence you had
wickedly Chased.
Raw, unadulterated writing courtesy of my recent nightmares.
Nov 2016 · 1.1k
My Rapunzel Heart.
yellah girl Nov 2016
i am Rapunzel.
captured behind a stone wall
slick with acid, coated with barbed wire.
i beat and i pound at the wall, until the flesh
is torn and my bones crumble.
i scream and i cry, until my voice cracks
and my throat bleeds.
i pray and i persevere, but no matter
how much i try, the wall will not budge.

i am Rapunzel.
captured behind a stone wall,
slick with acid, coated with barbed wire.
i cut my hair and dripped it out the window
like garland, but no one climbs through.
i sing a broken hallelujah, like a songbird
with a wish bone in her throat.
i search hi and lo for the key to my tower,
but there is only stone and a locked door.

i am Rapunzel.
captured behind a stone wall
slick with acid, coated with barbed wire.
i hold the fragments of my hope in my
****** palms, i water them with my tears.
some day my prince will come, perhaps
with a silver key in one hand, and
the Promise Land in his eyes.
I suppose this is a little better than the previous temper tantrum that was published.
Nov 2016 · 634
burned out
yellah girl Nov 2016
my pen quivers above my paper
my fingers tremble & i fear
the ******* scream caught in my throat
will soon escape and tell all.

the page rots in front of me, ink blots
instead of words and rhymes, that's all
i can manage, my heart is cracked &
i feel the tidal blue deep within
begging release.

used to that i could write day in and day out,
my heart mapped out on college rule, notebooks full
but now it's an empty vessel, with dust and smoke
instead of firelight passion.

the day i met you, the day i kissed you,
you scorched my soul and burned the very words from
my lips, my dry aching desert heart, i'm floating away,
gone.

my pen quivers, my fingers tremble, my eyes water,
since the day you stole my pottery heart,
i haven't written a poem, not a single line,
not a single word.
What do you do when it seems as though your passion has been torn from you? Anytime I open my pad, my heart cries out and my throat swells. I want to wail and scream. Where did my inner poet go? (It's been 4 years)
Jun 2016 · 821
Bright Eyes.
yellah girl Jun 2016
she held some stars in her palms
but she didn't know that he saw
an entire galaxy in her eyes.
Feb 2016 · 539
Here I am once again.
yellah girl Feb 2016
in the garden of my heart
God planted a mustard seed
gave me the gloves
& departed

i gave the mustard seed
love & devotion
& for a while
rooted myself in
God’s ground

and then the roots spread
some into the soil
& some into the gravel
& in the gravel i found
most of my sustenance

the devil had found his way
into my garden
& his ashes spread over the fertile ground
suffocating & sterilizing

the roots in the soil of God
found no water & withered
until they crumbled like dust
a ghost of ancient veins


& for a while i found my happiness
the devil can make rotten fruit
taste like the sweetest honey
so long as you smile
for him

until one day
the devil grew tired of my smiles
& he found doubt in my heart
his fruit was not so sweet now

my roots withered & burned & putrefied
even in the gravel that had once been my home
i was a mustard seed
small & scared & alone

i found my love & devotion
and was careful to sow only in the soil,
though only on the edges
for surely God could not forgive
i had eaten the forbidden fruit

until one day
God beckoned me further from the edges
He gave me love & devotion
just as i had given my mustard seed


under His love i grew
and spread my roots firmly in the soil
and there i was no longer a mustard seed
but a lily blossom
Surely, the first in a series.
yellah girl Jan 2016
i like my solitude
but sometimes
i wish i had someone
to share the loneliness with
Jan 2016 · 526
man on the moon
yellah girl Jan 2016
on lonely winter nights
i find myself in the windowsill
gazing at coruscating stars and forgotten wishes
i grin at the moon
he smiles back

i close my eyes and conjure an image of the man on the moon
does he exist beyond childhood fairytale?
an impish smirk plays on his boyish face
as he reaches for me

he is the nocturnal prince, an imperial Peter Pan
stealing the prudence of stargazers
in the very hours of creativity

he is a collector of romances
seizing the hearts of sleeping beauties
as they fabricate stories of epic proportions
soon erased in waking moments

he is the fantasy of every idealist
the one who enchants her dreams
and inspires her ingenuity
Jan 2016 · 219
raven
yellah girl Jan 2016
one day, your wings will carry you
far, far away from me, and i,
i will remain rooted to the rock
while you glide among the stars.
but that day is not today
so stay with me
and i will teach you to fly on land.
Inspired by Windhaven.
Jan 2016 · 573
goodbye my old love
yellah girl Jan 2016
it seems our chapter is coming to a close
words ran thin, the tea kettle is barren
there is nothing left to say
except goodbye
buona giornata

run to Yosemite late in the night
gaze in awe at glacial wonder
all thoughts of me turn to dust
as a wind blows through
goodnight, love
i won't see you tonight

lull yourself to sleep with Dvořák
succumb to sweet dreams
let California tuck you in
dream of me not
for i will be gone

Tuscany welcomes me with warm arms
a glass of ambiance, just that much
will do
Milan wraps me in Armani robe
paint emotions on a broken face
Sicily washes all thoughts of you
until i am whole again
for you
i'll never smile
One of the most raw poems I have written to date. I love it, even if it makes no sense to those outside of my personal circle.
Jan 2016 · 371
the dark side of jupiter
yellah girl Jan 2016
Your dim glow is no comparison
to the blinding light of the Sun.
Created and gone
before your time began.

Your fame, wrongly earned
Failed star, failed sun.
No fame for your beauty,
for your immense greatness.

Jupiter, failed star, failed sun.
The sun mocks you... failure!
the Earth tossed you aside... failure!
Forgotten Pluto, your only friend.
A poem that now seems morbid when I remember the who, what, when, where and why of this poem's inspiration.
Jan 2016 · 1.2k
if i were a raphael painting
yellah girl Jan 2016
she would be unclothed
all her secrets laid out
in the late summer sun
streaming through the open window
she would face the painter
her almost-green-but-not-quite eyes
wide with a fear and a thrill
never felt until now
her rosebud lips twitch in a half smile
as though she is afraid
the happiness will be lost if she grins too wide
her chocolate brown hair
curls just above narrow shoulders
sprinkled with cinnamon freckles
the artist paints with a tender hand
capturing both innocence and allure
and when he is done the girl is dressed and gone
and so the painting is hidden and gathers dust
until a curious boy unveils it years later
and hangs it above the fireplace
where his greedy eyes can feast on the girl's secrets
day and night, he will try to unravel them
but distraction comes in shape of a skin and bone lover
so the painting is suppressed again
until another prying hand wipes the dust away
yellah girl Jan 2016
i fall in love every day
whether it's with the soft kiss
of the ocean spray on my
sun red cheeks
or the delicate coo
of the least tern
the belting vibrato
of some teenage girl
lost at sea
or the way his eyes dance
every time he glances at me

— The End —