Dirt

I want to be a leaf

with complex coloring

as it is on the verge

of falling. 

Even then, it momentarily

retains beauty

while I am instead 

the dirt on the bottom

of a man's boot; he

always wipes those shoes

before entering any place. 

His mother still tells

him that good boys

don't play in the mud. 

Subway Mice

Sometimes I think

about the mice

on the subway tracks

as they go back and forth

until they feel the rumble

that makes them run

away and isn't it crazy

that we create their

routine by having

one of our own

except I think they may

actually know where the hell

they want to be

and want to go. 

Postcards

It was under the repetitious

sunsets of cape cod

that I learned 

to not mail postcards 

to boys back home

because you'll be sitting 

on a large rock

with the tide again greeting

your toes 

and you're again

seeing blurred pinks and oranges

you realize that he

again sees ink 

where you're telling him how 

much you miss him

and at this point the sun

already set 

on all of those moments. 

Shoulders

Have you ever seen

someone laugh

with their shoulders?

up

and 

down

like they are shaking

away all the things 

that weigh on these

human ledges and 

keep then slouched. 

Oregon Pinot

When I saw the woman

walking downtown

wiping her eyes

with a mcdonalds napkin 

I could only hope 

she was heading home

to trade that napkin 

for an Oregon Pinot 

crafted in the Willamette 

Valley where the grapes

are squeezed and processed 

to become the comfort for us

women who have cried in public. 

Quilt

I am used to compliments

laced with intentions

and my honesty knitted

to misconceptions. 

I am making a quilt

of every moment

I have sat at a bar

with a man buying

me drinks while I still 

felt cold. Tonight,

I will turn in early with 

the heaviness of this fabric

trying to warm me

in my sleep. 

Touch

The muscles in my 

body tell me 

how much you care. 

Damn, do they ache

with the consideration 

that I am

nothing

but a body

and mostly 

one not worthy

of touch. 

Ode to You

I bet

you have been checking

this blog every day 

to see when I would 

finally

write about you. 

Well

here it is. 

I hope this poem

never gets famous.

I hope this poem 

is awful.

There's nothing concrete

here. There never was.  

I Admit It

I'll admit it:

sometimes I cry. 

Aren't you supposed to

let the faucet run

while the garbage disposal

is on? I think

I am good at dropping 

emotion down the drain. 

But I'll admit it:

sometimes it's all of me

spinning into many pieces;

Some things are just 

disposable. 

Going

You have become 

an overgrown lawn

and I have never 

been one to maintain

large yards and gardens

at homes,

places that more than

just                       me

fit into. 

Vices

When I exhale the smoke

I try to imagine 

that I am          releasing

parts of you that I've breathed 

in. I wish the scent didn't linger. 

There's nothing worse 

than the staleness in my hair 

to remind me that the calm was only temporary. The sweet taste 

on my lips is dismissed when 

I am sick for more

only to find you 

have become         aloof. 

A Weed Or A Flower

I am unsure

whether to fear

all of the miles

or all of the feelings

that fill them. 

I am almost sure 

that this long distance

has fertilized

empty fields from 

here to there. 

Look at the space 

half way between

and I am sure

we will see

blossoming. 

Beach Walks

You are like a sea

shell I once found

on a lonely beach walk. 

It was half buried in wet

sand and after it was

uncovered I could see 

the rigid side. But I

discovered that when I 

put my lips close

to blow away remaining 

dust I could see all its colors. 

I understood that even 

empty and broken ones

are beautiful. 

Sun

We rejoice

at the sunshine 

like it is our god

delivering us from

evil. We never 

recognize the 

shadows the light

assists in making. 

River

There's a blue protruding 

vein on her upper left arm

that resembles a large river

line on a map. It makes sense

since she is often a body

of water others glide over

to get somewhere else

or dried ink people 

trace with overworked fingers

while they think of all the places

they would rather be. 

Watching Strangers

I was eating a slice

in my PJs when I saw

him through the apartment

window I was gawking

out of. It was barely 5pm

and the man, young 

like me, was walking with

a brown paper clothed bottle

that seemed to weigh him,

down to his feet. I couldn't

help but to worry. 

Coffee

The men I sleep

with make darn

good coffee. I find

the delicious bitterness

a change from 

the deceiving sweetness

I taste in the black 

mud served 

at the place I called

home with people

I call family.

I Wouldn't Know

maybe the difference
is that you'll do any
thing for someone
you love

but
you can't do anything
without someone
you're in love with.

then again
who am I to know?
you left me
stationary
with lack of opportunity
to grasp this knowledge.

You Look Sad

I'm afraid

that if I pick happiness

like a flower

and drop it in your eyes

like a vase 

I will only be seeing

beauty 

destined to wither.

20 Poems #20

I did it! 20 poems in 20 days. Here is the final one.

I never know when to use
worse or worst
and I wish I did
because this poem
is the worst place
to not know.
What is worse
than not hearing
answers to my
grammar questions?
Maybe I was holding
out for another lesson.
Maybe the whole issue
is too many typos
and too many
misunderstandings.

20 Poems #19

I read a book
that was full of you
with chicken scratch
from someone too afraid
to say simple things
like I like you.

I'm writing a book
that is full of someone
new with calligraphic
scripts of things
I wasn't afraid to say
like I like you. 

20 Poems #18

All these corners 

are dusted like they 

are on showcase. 

All these windows

are clear like 

someone needs to

see through them.

I clean to maintain

control and I swear

my home was never

this organized before

I met you. 

20 Poems #17

There had been 

too many drills 

where I took time

to grab my things

but this wasn't a smoke

signal I inhaled. 

I am stuck empty

handed with buzzing

in my ears. 

20 Poems #16

I was on a dock

looking through stationary

binoculars

and I could see your details

but the look in your hazel eyes 

couldn't meet mine.

That's the thing about looking

through something:

we have stopped seeing some

one.

20 Poems #15

I put on the last words
you spoke to me
like armor complete
with a sword and shield
to protect me from the battle
I am having with your
disappearance.

20 Poems #14

He said he wouldn't

disappear

but magicians

always know 

where the card 

is while the audience

is left wondering

what

just

happened.

20 Poems #13

I have always loved
the abandoned
so it makes sense
that I am now learning
to love myself.

20 Poems: #12

I have been
just going
for so long
and for once
I wish you
would walk
behind me
and convince
me to stay
and maybe
even follow
if I don't.

20 Poems: #11

Should I have known
that you would bring
me a plethora
of angst
with a smile
on your face
like you were handing
me a glass of wine
and a bar
of chocolate?

20 Poems #10

I know that #9 isn't posted, but that's intentional as it isn't appropriate for this particular blog.

I have never believed

love

to be a four letter word

but instead many words

I do not have

the vocabulary to utter.

20 Poems #8

The quality of these drafts just continue to diminish. 

Happiness is a beast
I keep behind
closed doors with
a lock. I won't let
the key people call
love loose it and let it
run away.
It isn't meant to be free
in the streets.
I bought this animal
for my own company
by spending
countless hours
trying to decide
what was most wrong
with me
and finally I concluded
that my biggest downfall
was letting you see
me as anything
but myself.

20 Poems #7

He should thank you
for making me feel
like feet drowning
in wet boots.
He simply slipped
them off and dried
them by the fire
of kindness
I told him not to kindle.
"But I like being nice
to you" he said.

20 Poems #6

Tonight,the coldness
is especially lonely.
I remember
when there was warmth
between us
without touching
like we both knew
that contact
would make a combustion
that could not be extinguished.
I saw you yesterday;
our eyes met
and I only saw fog.
I have been breathing
in this bitterness
but when I exhale
I cannot see my breath.
You have always carried
a way to cloud
my existence.

Free write: I wish you knew

It's a free write type of night since I desperately feel like I have to write but nothing seems to come together. 

I wish you knew 
that I don't smile like that for anyone else.
that I don't tell people nice things because it makes me feel too vulnerable.
how to be vulnerable.
how stupid happy I got when I saw you.
how stupid sad I got when I looked at myself.
how I feel stupid when I feel anything.
that my regret feels like feet drowning in wet boots.
that you are in my poetry.
that you are a bridge.
I like bridges.
my last name.
my handwriting.
how expensive makeup brushes are.
how expensive vacations are.
how difficult it is to vacation from my head.
my uncertainty.

I wish you didn't know
that distance doesn't make the heart grow fonder.
how bad my hair looks some mornings.
about New York City.
my recipes.
what makes me laugh.
my hands.
that hesitancy is a backpack of bricks.
her name.
her.
my availability.

20 Poems #5

I made my hair

have fringe

so you cannot see

the dimple over my left

eyebrow that deepens

when I worry.

You told me my face

holds too much

expression. But the truth

is that no one else

has ever looked.

I fell asleep

during hide and seek

and you woke

me from that peace.

Who knew that being

found would bring

back this dent

in my head?

20 Poems #4

You see yourself 

as a thrift store rag. 

But boy do you clean

up nicely. I didn't 

need to tailor you.

And you never made 

me think it was I 

who needed alterations.

You fit my fears 

and so I fear

I will wear you out. 

20 Poems #3

I used the prompt "I used to be, but now I". I may take a couple of the ideas and expand them later. 

I used to be a child, now I'm immature. 

I used to be alone, now I'm just lonely. 

I used to be a ship, now I am an airplane. 

I used to be a box, now I am a cup. 

I used to be a box, now I am flat. 

I used to be fat, now I am me. 

I used to be independent, now I'm lonely. 

I used to be a dripping faucet, now I am a river. 

I used to be a stove top, now I am a forest fire. 

I used to cry, now I weep. 

I used to want you, now I want us.

I used to be a tree, now I am the cabin. 

20 Poems #2

He doesn't realize

that his fingertips

are paintbrushes that 

made art on my shoulders. 

He doesn't realize

that I was a blank

canvas and he 

has stained me. 

He doesn't realize 

that I became a relique 

placed behind glass,

no one can touch. 

He doesn't realize 

I would rather be

the tarp on his floor 

to still feel his existence

and catch some of his color. 

20 Poems #1

I made a goal to write 20 poems in 20 days as apart of a wholistic cleanse I am currently doing. Some will be extra rough draft status and I will be using prompts on some days. Enjoy. 

I can only skim the pages 

of our stories. 

I wonder if there is a plot. 

I wonder what the point

of his character is. 

Maybe there is a twist

in future chapters

where it suddenly matters

to more than one of us. 

Space

I wrote this more with the intention of spoken word but I thought I would post it anyways. 

I said if you broke my heart

you would revive my pen

so here I am writing 

about Saturday night

and how all I could think 

of were the ways 

I am to blame for this space 

between us. Maybe distance 

isn't the reason for this divide. 

Maybe time zones 

are not the cause for

"could have beens"

going awry.

Perhaps each time the sun

has set earlier for you

your desire fades a bit too. 

And perhaps I keep waiting

for us to be in the light

when it will never be the same

shining as that spring fling

when I sat on your couch 

and the rays peaked through

the space in your blackout blinds

and in that moment 

we both wanted the same thing. 

I said if you broke my heart

you would revive my pen

but I never wanted 

to write about you.

Even between all the miles 

I cannot clear enough space

in my head

to comprehend the chemistry 

that resulted in a combustion. 

You are the only someone

I have made some sense to. 

We said we wouldn't fight

the inevitable gap. 

But all I know 

is that even if there 

was an ocean between us 

there's an even bigger sea

between me and everyone else.

Couches

A couch would save
me when I kept falling
from balconies
in childhood dreams.

Your couch saved me
when I kept falling
from insecurities
in adulthood realities.

Do not move me
from these cushions.
You have moved me
enough.

How is it possible
to fall so precisely
into comfort
and next to relief?

Magnet Poetry #5

Comfortable

This is the part before I post the poem where I write a disclaimer to say that it's a creative piece and not necessarily how I feel.... just in case someone reads this.

You make me consider
the big and skinny hands
on my watch
which has become
attached
to my wrist.
I'm always checking
for you
in the places
we would belong
if we called
the same city home.
But this rose city
has withered
a bit and I'm rising
to the idea that I belong
in places where I am
most myself.
As I recall
your couch
and Boston Bruins
fleece were rather
comfortable.

Muse

I have already tried 

to write your poetry

almost as if I already held 

and released the hope of an us. 

Except maybe this time there was

            maybe even is

                               us. 

But it begs the question

When do you become my muse?

If you break my heart

you'll revive my pen 

but I have never considered 

writing less than now. 

New

I have found myself

drinking a new wine,

watching hockey, 

and ordering in. 

You are the summer 

season that will pass. 

You are something new

but new things don't last.

Nothing

I ordered ginger ale

for my stomach

and rum for my head. 

But I still feel sick

from your indifference

and fatigued by my thinking. 

We are the most confusing 

nothing I have ever seen. 

Invalid Crying

I revisited 

a gravesite

I had no authority

to weep at. 

How ridiculous 

I must look 

with black water

racing down 

each cheek

like a contest 

to see which 

can escape 

more quickly.

Magnet Poetry #4

Magnet Poetry #3

Shrinking

I know walking away 

well enough to know 

that you have a freckle 

on the back of your right ear. 

Every time 

you get to walking 

I watch the small spot 

get smaller

and I wonder if it looks

back at me

as I am also

shrinking. 

Magnet Poetry #2

Magnet Poetry #1

Reasons

Be the motive

for the breeze

destroying 

my hair. 

Be the design

for splattered shoes

and bruised heels.

Be the cause

for heavy breathing. 

Chase me

so I have a reason 

to run away.

Windows

Eyes are windows

so I cut my hair

like drapes. 

Don't you dare 

swing them open. 

You will be blinded 

by what you see. 

Aging

1. We were all

paper waiting

for the ink of time

to etch love

stories on our lines. 

2. The ink

has smudged

under our eye lids. 

We are folded 

and creased. 

3. Who remembers 

when it was a blank

page?

4. Who reads

these stories?

Sometimes, even I

forget who you are. 

Graffiti

The side of the road
is our blog.
We posted our poetry
on the side walks
and walls where
the world can see.
This feeling
makes handcuffs
and community service
feel like a party.
As long as train passengers
look up and recognize
where there was love.

A Challenge

She is the type of person
who puts falling in love
on her bucket list
right up there
with visiting each continent
and overcoming her fear
of jumping into
water.

You cannot convince one
like that
with the normal gestures.
Just be almost
unachievable.

Fear

I convince myself

you loved me

                so much

                you went

                              away. 

It happened to be

the one 

time

I was prepared

to stay. 

Maybe we should start

running

together. 

To those who didn't get away

I keep you all in a jar

like a collection of coins

from each journey, holding

on to those who think of me. 

But what is the point 

of all this currency gained

when you have no value

where I want to be? 

Earthquake

I wake up convinced
the great earthquake has occurred.
The west coast will be consumed
by fractured foundations
and an engulf of water.
But no, it is only I who quivers.
Everything else is settled
while my insides are what trembles.

One Year Later

It has been a year since I lost my mentor and friend, Terry Miller. This post is difficult because it brings up many feelings that I began to divorce over the last few months. Perhaps I should be telling how great a person she was and all the things she did for me in this post, but I instead want to explore those feelings I've had over the last year.

It wasn't until losing her that I realized how truly alone I had become. It's in those dark times you look to the friends and family around you for a bit of light. I in no way want to discredit the efforts some may have made, but overall, there was a sense of loneliness that I had never experienced before. I believe this is because I no longer felt the assurance of someone's support and selfless love. She wasn't gaining anything from me and still wanted a relationship.

Truthfully, some people's lack of plain ole "being there" astonished me. One person questioned my attending the funeral. Others just didn't speak. Some tried and then thought I was too depressing.... Sometimes grief will do that to a person. Because I lived in a place separate from the rest of those who were close to Terry, I felt all of this even more.

Now comes the really deep stuff. The combination of losing Terry and the lack of support, along with a general feeling of no life direction pushed me into a deep depression. When I found out that she had passed I was on my break at my job. I was devastated and literally couldn't pull myself together. I sat by the back door somewhere in between an emotional wreck and dazed. After some time, I mustered up the ability to communicate to my manager that I needed to go. My car tire had a flat that day so my mom had given me a ride to work. While I waited for her to pick me up, I was on the phone in the office with Terry's husband and other friends

That job became a thorn in my side. It somehow was set in my mind as a negative place. And yet I had to be there 35 hours a week. During work, I would be cheerfully talking over headset to customers while crying when no one could see. These feelings piled up. I remember one day in particular. I was walking up the road. There are train tracks. The rail road dinging began and I thought "this is the perfect time". I waited for the train to come, but it didn't. And when it didn't, I cried because I had lost the stomach for life and my opportunity to end it had never shown up. I don't like to admit any of this because it makes me feel weak. But it's the truth.

Shortly after, I disengaged from a harmful environment. I quit that job. I left/was removed from (depends on who/when you ask) my parents' house. And slowly, the worst year ever pushed me to be a more mentally healthy individual.

But where does that leave me today, a year later? Well, it is 1:45am. That glass of wine fit nicely with the emotional storm writing this post inflicted. It's been a year. I'm still here. I value laughter a lot more than I used to. I'm not quite a whole person again. But I'm less fractured than before. Sometimes those feelings kick me in the gut. But I have improved on mastering them. I miss her. I don't think there has been a day that goes by that I haven't thought of her. But I also miss myself. When someone close to you dies, something inside of you does as well. I know that sounds cliche but I can't think of a creative way to communicate it. There's no good way to end a post like this.

I did fail to mention my extreme gratitude to those who financially contributed to me being able to go to the funeral. Also to those who shared their hospitality while I was there. Since I'm saying thanks, also to my Pita Pit family... somehow these people landed in my life at a perfect time. To Val who let me stay with her when I didn't have a home. To Skylah who's goofiness watered my dead garden of laughter. To A... how shall I say this?... for being so self righteous and isolating me...it made a tough decision easier. To PPC, for giving me my space. To Rae for being "that girl" with me. To Seattle for showing me a new world.

And to Terry, for the 7 years of mentoring and relationship. For never giving up on me. For still looking out for me.

Missing

We don't have a picture 

together. This makes me

question how I will wake up

with the ability to conquer. 

Human

It was in the middle

of a drunken

hug with a stranger

I realized I needed

                    to feel 

                   human.

It is just like you to 

miss these big moments. 

The things left unsaid

As of late, I have been feeling that there are things I haven't said that I want to. Since I love lists I thought I would make one in no particular order of these statements. Off the top of my head, there are two people in particular that a lot of these will be directed towards, but I imagine as I type more will come up.

Here goes nothing.

• It isn't fair to string people a long.
• She's SO incredibly fake. 
• You can't expect me to be the adult all the time.
• Why should I be the one to reconcile everything?
• You never gave me a chance to speak.
• Neither did you.
• I'm scared to be friends again...
• ...But I can't seem to stop myself.
• I'm sorry.
• I'm sorry to you too.
• And you.
• And everyone else.
• I really don't like you.
• My confidence and value does not rest in you.
• Thanks for helping me realize I am more than I thought.
• I love you.
• I miss you.
• I REALLY miss you.
• You are not what I want.
• You may be what I want.
• I have no idea what I want.

January Personal Post

It has been a few months since I have made a personal post or rant. Tonight, I find myself alone watching way too much TV and movies. I have consumed way too much salt and not nearly enough chocolate. Truthfully, this night is not incredibly different than most nights. In fact, I started this post last night and didn't even have to edit it for it to be true.

Recapping 2013 is not something I'm interested in doing. More than anything, I am looking to move forward. As is the usual, I created a list of 2014 goals. Here are some of them:

• Color my hair (done, with henna from lush...all natural)
• Drink more water
• Create a tangible 5 year plan
• Cook more for myself and others
• Make a new friend
• 4.0 every term
• Go to more live music shows
• Appreciate people more vocally

I am thoughtful how last year started so pitifully because of situations out of my control. This year has begun somewhat shakey as well but entirely because of my own decisions. I feel like I can handle it though... these are things that can be fixed. I feel hopeful. I am rediscovering myself and what it means to be happy. Cheers to 2014. 

Bird

You are such a child

to poke at my feathers. 

You ran me off in a park 

we could have enjoyed

together. What a pity

you took pleasure in creating

discomfort. What a blessing;

you caused me to fly away. 

After Christmas

The lights come down

from the trees. 

What will this city be?

Only lonely streets with shoes

to keep them company 

A Portrait

She could carry groceries

with the bags

sitting under her eyes. 

But instead she rolled

a basket, mostly empty. 

At the edge of an intersection

she shielded herself

from the world

with permanent markered 

cardboard.