flowersinherhair

you are not you. 

you are what i think
alas i refuse to admit i am wrong.
what can i say?
i love this version of you 
he is kind and sweet and loving 
so very beautiful.

The way is harsh
The light is dim
And we forget to celebrate love
Instead condemning faultless faults and forged sins
We sit in silence
Festering in our lack of empathy 
Or we stand and scream because still we are not heard

   


I get to be lazy in the summer
I sleep in, eat fresh fruit for breakfast,
Watch TV alone at my house.
My family is gone until mid afternoon
So the sun watches over me.

I had a long childhood
My innocence was protected and I didn’t see the world for what it is
I smiled a lot, and I cried too
But only over the little things 
Scraped knees and spilled ice creams 

one week old
not yet smiling
fragile and precious 
in her parent's hands.

four years old 
a sweet, silly child
dark curls wrapped
in a green headband.

eight years old
bright and excited

This poem is irrelevant.
Seriously, you have better things to do.

You could be lying on your back in the grass
stargazing with those you love
or dancing alone in the kitchen
waiting for the cookies to be done.