Writing

I hang candy necklaces from the tips of my fingers

All the way to your reaching palms.

We smile like we're kids again. Maybe we always were,

But who realizes that anymore?

your features don’t contort when you cry.

tears skate down your face until they get caught

on the side of your nose 

or  the tip of your chin

I would never admit it, but

I’m broken. I have lived through a hell you only see in your nightmares. I was born into a world of agony and have stayed silent on the darkest of nights.

Just some little sentences, quick delights, really, jotted down on a tiny reporter's notebook during a flight from Burlington to Raleigh yesterday. Enjoy and remember that the world is full of delight!

You have to decide

Where your loyalty lies.

Is it your friends,

Or is it your family.

Is it your birth clan,

Or the clan that took you in.

I don’t know if we’ll ever be whole. Not that we ever were in the past. It has struck me, though, recently, that, while we, or at least I, frequently discuss, and, indeed, logically understand that our rights are not our own an