Small girl sits. Alone
on glittered steps with purple
asters, and she waits.

A field of flowers
Paints the sky, but petals fall.
As she sits and waits.

Parental steps slip
home, but the flower is gone.
Lays in pooled petals.
 

I need someone
to unstiffen me
out of my bones
and split my seriousness
until they can taste my smile. 
 

You can find her words
s
 c
  a
   t
    t
     e
      r
       e
        d
         across the page
and her tears
r
 u
  n
   n
    i
     n
      g
       the ink
when she doesn't know what else to do
after you break her like a pencil.
 

A field of flowering daisies,
Is where I want to be.
A meadow of measurable sunflowers,
Is what I want to see.

I want to walk through these pastures
With little to no care,
Even when a tiny bumble
Brushes against my hair.

I want the sky a pretty blue
To contrast with colorful petals,
And an image-capturing device
To fit snug in my hand as it settles.

I want a gentle wind to kiss my neck,

I was a stone,
smooth and subtle,
but I wanted to be a rock,
rough and remarkable.

The others were all rocks,
so I became a rock,
but with rigids not quite right,
and colors not quite correct.

I still loved being a rock,
so I strutted over to the others,
but the other rocks
did not want me.

As they wriggled away,
I saw something important.
They were not real rocks,
they were fake rocks,

Lemon cookies
cover my tongue
with the
sweet and tart
taste
of my grandmother’s
dining room.

A mild memory
squeezes
into my mind
like lemon juice
into a cup.

There
I’m hiding
under a glass table
with giggles
squeaking
out of my tummy
and lemon cookies
crunching
in my teeth.

 

You are
my flashbulb
memory,
for it is not
my heart
that hurts
anymore.

It is
my brain
that wanders
on stepping stones
back to
memories
with you
and moments
we could have had.

It is
my hand
that reaches
for another hand,
but only
grasps air.

It is
my eyes
that blink hard
to block out
vivid pictures
of what we had

All I see is red.
Have I hit my head?
I close my eyes,
hearing far away cries,
Has something begun to spread?

All I see is red.
I begin to dread.
Where am I?
Where is the blue sky?
Is something happening overhead?

All I see is red.
What will lie ahead?
Have they ran?
This was not our plan.
There was so much not said.

All I see is red.
Has everyone fled?
I rub each eye,

It was late today
When I found that song for you
That made my breath still.

My ear caught the line
From the newly strummed ballad
As I browsed the tunes.

It sang the lyrics,
“You’re the one who’s gonna lose”
And you did lose.

You lost the one me
In this world of many yous.
So say go figure.

I say go figure,
Because this had to happen
Or I would be stuck.

I say go figure

They are the ones
who leave things unsaid.
grabbing the thought with their tongues
Before it slips through their lips,
like standing only steps from the waves
that wash the shore,
but not close enough
to brush their timid toes.

They are the ones
who leave things unsaid,
thinking before saying,
and recycling those thoughts
until they are tired of overthinking,
as if they were old wheels breaking,