Nov 26

Confessions of the Broken Hearted

I am a thief. 

I have stolen
time so that 
it stretches like
pizza dough; 
I have hid it in my pockets
like a stolen chocolate. 
I have melted and 
molded it to fit
the shape of 
my palm, 
I have stolen 
time. 
I stole it to 
make the 
seconds feel like minutes
and the minutes feel
like hours and
the hours feel like days and
the days
feel like
forever. 

I have stolen 
time so that 
it bends and 
ripples to go by
my rules, so that
we'll never have to say
goodbye, 
so that
I'll never have 
to kiss your 
cold cheek
one last time,
as tears
create oceans
on my face,
and tissues become
paper sailboats, 
lost in the
storm of my sadness, 
and 
I. Steal. Time. 

So that it stops, 
and when 
I look at you, 
our smiles are 
Audio download:
Audio Recording 3.m4a
Nov 06

All Fall Down

If I ever went missing,
my parents could tell the police:
she leaves behind cups and mugs
stained with her lip-prints
(they're like fingerprints,
but instead of DNA you find
swirly moons
made of glossy
brown, matte pink, creamy red,
and they circle the rims
as if marking their territory as hers,
all hers.

If I ever went missing,
my parents could tell the police:
she leaves behind petals
from roses, daisies and
dandelions,
their dewy hearts forming
a trail of beauty,
and even though some people
see them as weeds,
she always knew that
they were worth so much more,
and from her love
came a trail of their
broken bodies.

If I ever went missing,
my parents could tell the police:
she collects words like stamps,
trying to find one of every
shape, size, color, place, feeling,
and will only be happy
once she has them all
Nov 03

Yesterday

I found my former self
in an abandoned alley
in the back of my brain.
She was sitting against the graffiti,
bandaged knees tucked to her beating heart,
trying to fade into herself.
I shouted her name
hoping for any sign of recognition
but all she did
was slowly look up.
With blinking honey-colored eyes,
thick lashes sticking together
like shadows to a person.
I saw the confusion
as it settled onto her face
and knew what my answer was
before she even asked.
"Who are you?" She said.
"I'm you," I responded.
"After you let go
of all the nasty weighted things
that you tend to hold
so close to your heart.

"I'm you," I said.
​​"After you let go."
 
Jul 10
poem 0 comments challenge: Random

over the summit

#SOS18


i straighten my mask
the one of pleasantries
and polite remarks
the one that has an illuminous smile
and i turn my back
fight against the roaring current
that tries
desperately
to pull me over the summit

  break
            free

the others 
they run to my side
they see i need help
they see i need aid
but yet
they too
turn against my current
the one that threatens again and again
to pull me over

it leaves me bait
promises of happily-ever-afters
dreams-coming-true
flying-with-my-wings
but i say to it
"how can i fly if i'm bound in your chains?"

so

i turn away
and i replace the mask
Jul 10

After

for saba

Days pass on like sunsets:
Few drenched and dripping
In beauty,
Most of them cloudy and blank.

Memories fade like jackets:
Details falling and being replaced
Like chipped buttons,
Stitched into something new.

People enter like guest stars on a TV show:
Their presence swept away with disregard
Until they exit stage right, leaving behind whispers of goodbye
And all is normal, as if they never appeared at all.

Food piles up like an avalanche:
Meatloaves and casseroles and cherry pies
As if they are supposed to be miracles, 
And cure.

Prayers are recited like waterfalls:
Each syllable falling over the last
Competing in a hurried dash to reach your ears
And numbly recite verses of angels being lifted to Heaven.

Death watches from behind the bushes:
Mar 28

Old Words

 
The sound of my typewriter
Clicking and clacking and buzzing
Keys pressing down
To create the stories
I guard in my mind.

The sound of my typewriter
Drowing out all other noise
Paper shifting and gliding across the top
The smell of fresh ink
Staining white paper.

The sound of my typewriter
Old and filled with a thousand
Words, a thousand people, a thousand lives
Bought for a fraction of its worth
Enveloping me in its click, clack, click, clack. 
 
Mar 28

"did you want to see me broken?"

*inspired by Maya Angelou's Still I Rise, and the line, "Did you want to see me broken?"


Hey, can I sit with 
you guys?
No, the loser table is
that way. Sorry.


do you 
like to know
that after i've 
walked away
after my smile
has been seen
after my head
has been held high
my grin starts
to fade and 
my shoulders
start to droop
and my eyes
fall
to the floor
as tears cascade
i can't take 
this anymore

what makes
you feel like royalty
the 'friends' that
TAP-HEART-TO
LIKE-IMAGE
your selfies
the admirers wistfully 
eyeing you as if they'd 
kill 
to be 
in that empty
chair next to you
feeling just as powerful
instead of hiding 
like me

when you're all
alone
do you feel 
satisfied
Mar 28

Flowers

Hate does not
make flowers bloom
their purpleredpinkorange 
petals (delicate 
as lace) 
do not touch the sky.

Hate does not
make children smile
their mouths (hungry, 
sometimes unfed)
do not stretch wide
with happiness.

Hate does not
make you stronger
those ugly poisonous
words(aimed toward the
innocent)
do not make the world
a brighter place.

Hate does not 
make us look different
our eyes are 
still bluegreenbrown
but our thoughts 
(once used for a greater 
purpose, meaning)
are filled with 
bitter dislike.

Hate does not
make problems go away
in fact, it creates more
a domino train
(taking on and letting 
off passengers routinely)
so much now, heaps
suffocating
the illuminated world.

Hate does not 
make us unite
our hands, all shades
Mar 28

Ode To Writing


Oh, writing,
How I love you!
With your eyes that I can
Fall and disappear into,
And your safe arms 
I wrap myself up in. 
Whether I'm reading
Or creating stories of my own
You're always my friend,
My love, even. 
When I'm sad or
Stressed or tired of the world
I fold myself into your pages
And with a sprinkle of 
Literary dust-
Away my problems go.
Writing, you are my love
And I hope we shall never be apart.
You let me release 
The haphazard thoughts
Travelling around in my mind.
You let me read your words
Soaking them in like water.
Your pages are my paradise.
Please, let us be apart no longer.
Each moment without you
Is dotted with tears.
Where do I put my stress and fears?
But then you reappear
And I love you once more.
If we shall be apart any longer-
Oh! I might die at the thought. 
Mar 28

Footsteps

All alone in the world
My hesitant footsteps echoing infinitely
I check to see if anyone's following
But no one seems to see me at all.

Daybreak opens the clouds like gates
Will the sun see me?
Ah, nevermind. Silly thoughts for someone
Who's all alone in the world.

Snowflakes fall down like cliff-jumpers
They risk melting so we can see
Their iridescent, ominous beauty
Still, I am all alone in the world.

Night comes behind me like a thief
I'm surrounded in darkness
But I feel like the light-
The only one in the world.

Everyone's asleep, snoring in their beds
Even the moon has slumbered off,
Behind the wicked clouds.

And still, 
Still I am all alone in the world
As my hesitant footsteps echo infinitely. 
 

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