Poetry

I thought you didn’t care.

You laughed the same with everyone,

spoke easily,

walked away like nothing stayed behind.

So I told myself

I was imagining it—

the way your eyes lingered

front lawns

frogs 

crochet projects

and tears

bring mind to your

fairytale girl

she laughs like a poet would (and does)

and moves my fingers

on the ukulele strings

three and angry/says the moaning sky/they follow you/then play the music/that sticks in your head/just so they can cackle/and watch you squirm/they cater/ to our lady of the underworld/the fates/give to none/and take from all.

I've been trying to work on myself

On my mind

On my heart

On my interior

But no one sees that

You can't photograph how pure a heart is

Or how smart a mind is

How good of a person you are

my walk home.

the 4 p.m. sunset already lighting the shamash on the horizon,

melting the mountains like orange wax.

lunch with my friends, onion rings & coconut yogurt

So Sunday was the first night of Hanukkah 

And there are still cops 

Outside the synagogue 

And there are still people who look at us

With murder in their eyes

And there are still shootings 

I want to get you a gift

for Christmas

because

I want you to know that you're special to me.

And it really is that simple -

but I don't know what to get you

The age-old dilemma

something cute?

sleepover giggles/and the thrill of late night games/when your friend doesn't want to watch your horror movie/and you end up watching Disney/is when you know that your friends/remind you of the frogs you caught with your/cousins at the creek/faile

i once lived in a city so large 
the people you see one day- 
you may never see again. 

when i was thirteen i held a wrapper in my hand
covered in red white and blue lettering 
a tribute to the land you once loved dearly

What inherent flaw?

what celestial wrong?

missing ingredient?

failed experiment?

am I?

how am I so unlovable,

that no one comes to hold,

my sorry hand? 

You are fragile like a wine glass,

when you fall to the floor and shatter into a million pieces,

people will still walk on you,

they will cut their feet and blame you for it,

and although my feet are bleeding,