You said you would give me
Anything
to see me smile,

And of all the things 
you could give,
you chose
Insanity.

I'm crazy for you,
tripping over my own words
as my heart twists itself
in knots, like a child
weaving a haphazard crown
of daisies, or
nets woven with bated breath
to catch those things that 
you feel you must catch—
the falling star that slips from the sky
too soon,
the edge of the sunrise
before the sun exposes, blinds you,
with her brilliance—
instead of for catching mere every-day desires.
You would think my knotted-net-heart
would be better at catching
all these
butterflies,

But alas, they flutter about,
Wild.

I cannot hold onto my thoughts
anymore;
They turn and tumble
and cascade
over each other, melting
into one, then separating back

Being tall means that I grew 5 inches higher than the doctor predicted.
Being tall means that it’s hard to find pants that reach my ankles.
    *Please let me know if you know of dress pants with an inseam over 32 inches
Being tall means turning heads, being noticed, and small children gasping in awe.
Being tall means being told you should model at age 13.

Being tall means that you don’t always love being tall.

Being tall means that I have been laughed at.
Being tall means similes likes “Giraffe” and “Tree” and “Giant.”
Being tall means boys feeling “threatened.”
    *No, I wouldn’t give you some of my height, even if I could.
Being tall means rarely seeing girls like you onscreen.
    Since when does the treasured ingenue, the standing-ovation leading lady,
    tower over her male counterpart?
Being tall seemed like the death of an acting career.

*Fiction

Amber eyes
meet deep, stunning brown

I’ve never noticed
Amber
looked like
crackling embers
falling down

like rich, warm honey
falling through the cracks;
autumn leaves
stopping me in my tracks;

darling, the sun always sets,
And life isn’t a fairytale;

Run from the arrows,
Lean over storied castle parapets,

But these are the dreams
From which we wake up falling

When we lean too far
Into the Magic’s calling

Loving you isn’t easy—
It’s crawling backwards, retracing steps,
Trying to find where I went so wrong,
When I became so weak,
As to let myself fall into the depths
Of those amber eyes

Breathtakingly still
As deep, honey-toned resin seals my fate

Because oh, I don’t remember deciding to love you,
But somehow your ignorance won’t let me go,

My favorite color is periwinkle. It’s like lavender, but more blue, more dreamy, with more cumulus mixed in, that is to say it’s not at all like lavender. It’s the blue-gray of a midday cloudy sky before it thunders, but deeper, more vibrant, with some unearthly, faery beauty you can’t quite pinpoint with your pupils but it swirls the stratosphere into a thoughtful question, but not between melancholy and joy, more like figuring out how far you are from the sun, or if you’d rather melt softly into fog or grandly float down from among the stars every twilight. You have to be careful not to add too much red, or domineering purple gives up its intent, but without red it’s the pallid gloom of a day where everything goes wrong and you know you’ve forgotten the one thing that’s important in all the things bothering your mind. "Periwinkle" is such a funny patter of sounds, but when you see the color, it’s really quite poetic.

You know when you
forget to breathe?

Well,
I forgot to write.

My mind's been cluttered up, you see;
things keep me up at night.

Shadows hiding in the halls--
things I've ignored for far too long--

You're right, perhaps I'm paranoid.

Or maybe you just forgot 
I'm mad

I'm mad, I'm sad, I tear my hair out
like I could ever spin this sad tale
into gold

At least I feel something.

Your eyes glitter in the dying sun,
a brilliant ruby red on the horizon
​like I've never seen before.
Has no one ever told you
words can hurt.
You stunned me
into silence;
I thought I must be invisible,
suffocating,
time slowing down,
counting heartbeats--
why did I let you
make me feel
this way

Go away
but the shadows creep
closer

Why must I infer

ink spreads across the page
in blatant color

but some kind that I've
never seen before

sweaty palms grip a pen;
slide down to the tip.

so fingertips trace salt
on broken memories;

broken souls reaching out 
in fractals,
on fresh-from-the-printer
paper,

already
wrinkled like that
elementary school Valentine's day card
you kept, for some reason,
but this wisdom's come from
tears instead of 
age,

so fingertips smear ink across
a tree that hasn't seen the forest
in so, so long,

fingertips dip darkness into
tidepools, salty tears scattered
on the page,

watery strokes of black to gray
with tips fading
to a point;

these feathers lift off of the page
and your mind flutters
out the window,
half-second hesitations threatening
a hard fall to the 

my trembling, bleeding hands hold
Chipped champagne glasses,
every fallen shard a fortune.

I look through the glass
and your eyes are distorted:
blue-green piercing
a jagged kaleidoscope,
cruelly somehow both condeming and admiring
this metaphor for all my faults--

a broken whirlwind,
mind spinning, 
but my gaze has
never
been so focused
as through this
expensive
crystal clarity

forget the 
engagement party,
forget the flowy white tablecloths
with satin champagne bows,
the strangers talking
expecting
everywhere
watching

ironically,
i feel quite alone,

it's only
you and
me,

well,
me and those
piercing blue
streaks
daggers
straight into my
staggering heart

why do you glower
at those glasses,
with no reaction
to the tears falling

To future generations

Darling, if only I could
give you a heart
of bronze,
a heart no one
could break,
or rust with
promises
doomed from the start,
clinging to them,
rotting, corroding,
until you wish
you never learned
to love.

Darling, if only I could
give your tender soul
some kind of armor,
enough barriers against
the sharp cruelty 
some are so ready to yield.

If I could,
I would give you
wings
to carry you far,
far away
when everything suddenly becomes
too hard to bear,
to leave behind those 
prying eyes
and ascend, sweeping
through the air,

I would give you
eyes that capture starlight,
twinkling, shining,
so you always see
hope
light your path,

I wish you golden arms, warm with sunlight,
so you ne'er feel cold inside, but

give me daffodils
of summer yellow,
and swaying irises'
rich purple color;
your irises spin
and I don't know why,
but I made you stand
and watch the sky
turn dappled gray
to black and blue,
What would I never
do for you,
I tried to say 
hello
today, but
I was blinded by the sun

they say the sun's still spinning,
spinning,
spiraling
out of control,

I tried to speak,
and speak I did,
but 
I don't think
they heard
at all

hello, hello,
do I exist,
I didn't think
it'd come to this,

sometimes I want
to be alone

in my 
introverted
biodome

but sometimes,
when I'm on my phone,
I'm secretly trying
to find my cowardly courage,
waiting to talk,
to anyone--

*Coughs*
Glares? 
"I promise,
it's allergies!!!"