Love Me

like you loved your first
car with the dents
and rust and windows
that don't roll up or down,
stuck in one place and on some
days, just the right place.

like that stray mutt
that doesn't leave you alone
ever since you made 

the mistake of feeding it. 

like autumn
even if it gets cold because 

of that sweater you always wear

that some people tell you is ugly.

imperfectly 

timelessly. 

Lunar Man

He stands next to me

our arms brushing

like many summer nights

on the same white picketed porch.

He points out how the moon's

brightness matches December's

briskness. I turn slightly away

to view 

and I see him

and the man of craters mirroring

each other. I wonder

if he now sees himself

like I do:

illusive, yet so fucking real

for those who went through

space and stars

to land there. 

Enlightened

I desperately

consume understanding

because you are a

psychedelic metaphor

I struggle to comprehend. 

Can we walk barefoot

even in the gravel

to feel everything

like it was intended?

I craved a travel partner

and this trip

confirms your perfection:

a sober mystery,

but I am enlightened. 

Temporary Affection

This must be

how tree branches feel

about strong winds

moving them

to the point of breakage

yet never committing

to being a hurricane

that will carry 

them: limbs, bark,

trunk and roots -

until the end.  

I Know

rock bottom by

the scrapes on my knees

from falling for your apprehension

after tripping over 

your ambiguity. 

I should have let

the scabs fall off

before picking myself apart

because a part

of me loves

that scoffing mentality

and pretending you know me,

but worst, that I do not

know you. 

Clown

You make me a clown

and I juggle

for your entertainment. 

The downside of being

a performer is that you 

like me more with the stage

makeup on. What if

I dropped the act

and held just this emotion

so tightly that it embodied

into something

other than a rubber ball

bouncing in my stomach?

Would I still be something

to watch or should I expect

the crash of circus tents

to be the end of me? 

Moth vs Butterfly

When a man compliments

me I feel 

like a moth

and chew through myself

while waiting to see

how long it takes

for him to notice the colors

of a butterfly. 

Misunderstandings

You mistook me

for a solution

and when I could 

not be anything

other than myself

you made me to be

a mistake. 

I mistook you

as you a solution 

and when you were

nothing but yourself

I believed briefly 

I understood;

my mistake. 

Severed

She has good hair

on her head

and a good head

on her shoulders

but sometimes

it disconnects

severed by feeling

that her mistake

was failing to use

her heart in a way 

that didn't use her up. 

Coping

Feed me the truth

at places with 

white tablecloths

where they serve 

the type of wine 

that tastes like

coping.

Chilled

I am cold

like water

solidifying 

to ice. 

Did you think

I wouldn't

turn to a brick

after being 

chilled time

and time again?

Homesick

You:

in the way 

I miss the smell

of rain goosebumped

across evergreens

like how I breathe

in when I consume 

waterfalls

like how I breathe 

out when waterfalls

consume me 

for the reason

that rose gardens

are full of thorns 

yet so many colors.

Dark Spots

If I wrote

a final goodbye note

I would indicate

to everyone (no one)

how I was insignificant

anyways. 

Mascara

I waste a lot of money

on expensive mascara

that ends up staining

my pillow cases 

Submission

With my hands tied 

behind my back

I actually relaxed 

and let someone else

think. 

Do I get to breathe?

The choice is not mine;

I only wanted a warm

body to console me

but the control in your eyes

takes me away too. 

Reminiscing

It's odd that I only talk to you on things

like your birthday 

but I still know that you're

napping right now,

you'll be up in about 30 minutes

to drive to places

still sleepy eyed,

your contacts dry, 

needing that extra extra coffee

which you won't have time to get

because you're alway 5 minutes late.

I know you don't think of me

but I bet you think 

of that coffee and wish you

had someone to grab it for you 

once again. 

Sleeping Alone

I'm resting my head

with dignity,

cuddling with honesty,

and fucking the shit 

out of self respect. 

If you question if this is

poetry you might know little

about loving your 

goddamn self. 

Compatibility

We share common ground

both knowing

that feeling

of the surface 

                      falling

from underneath us. 

Allergies

I have sadness

like allergies

and you agitate

this condition.

Even a slight,

fleeting interaction

makes my eyes

like lakes

and my skin

starts crawling.

You have this way

of making me

grossly abnormal. 

Bees

My eyes feel like angry 

bees inside of them.

All of this buzzing 

and the needles 

on my face

make me wonder

if he ever appreciated

the fact

that I am no weed

even if I am not quite 

a flower. 

Mornings

The men

in the deli

know 

what I like

on my bagel

and how I look 

in the morning

before coffee

and that hearing 

the steps of my 

departure just means

I'll be back tomorrow. 

Self Harm

I have always 

been a bull

in a china shop 

breaking the fragile

looking for something

to hit my head against. 

Colors

You changed

the color

I see

when I close

my eyes

at night.

I am afraid

of the darkness

and of light

that’s bound

to fade.

I want to see

pastels

again.

Play Thing

You are a toddler

who wants all the toys

and I am the rag doll

that feels like you need

so much more

than I am.

Kindness

I miss the way

your kindness

knocked on my door

like a friend

I haven’t seen

in a while -

visiting for a time,

rushing to see

the green lawns

of historic parks,

stopping to savor

the best pastries

and not caring when

it crumbled.

Your Voice

(it carries)

from the light blue

framing in need

of fresh paint.

I breathed heavy

everytime I approached

from the steep driveway

always wondering

if there would be more

bruising

to leave or stay. 

Boys Who Make Women Cry

These skies were blue

until you

stood underneath

and took all the words

like a god

you smile

when you feel the rain

that won't stop

pouring. 

Places I Find Myself

I saw my reflection

in a raindrop

gliding

          down

your window

and for that brief 

moment I saw

myself like you do:

the bluest of skies

with the smell

           of rain. 

Out of Control

That day you drove

in the snow

I was the one who

stopped drifting

and you maneuvered

like you knew what

you were doing. 

You took these curves

like you have taken

them before. 

Fuck. I lost control;

you have driven me 

all sorts of crazy. 

High Poetry

You're kind of like a blunt:

each time you come around

you're a bit smaller

and I am 

more in my head.

It's funny how 

when I am high

the most insignificant 

tapping of your 

impatient fingers

rings in my ears.

You've been waiting for me

to be nothing -

I have been waiting for you

to be more.  

Kicking and Screaming

I have been waiting 

for the other shoe

to drop

and it has been taking 

too damn long

so I will kick with force

until it all falls

and we are the nothing

I already knew us to be. 

Regret

I smell like regret 

and it won't shower off. 

This scent like cheap 

alcohol the morning after

lingers against 

the goosebumps rising

across my skin

and I wonder which 

is more the sin:

the deed or thinking

of you afterwards. 

Monsters

I wonder

if the monsters

in our closets

will get along. 

How long

do we keep 

them separate

before we 

separate

or one of them

destroys the other? 

Revolving Door

You pass through

and sometimes 

go around again 

like a kid enjoying

the experience

but eventually 

you will exit

like the rest

and when I am 

not being used

I am worthless. 

First Love Affair

He freckled soft

white sand across

his island skin and asked

Have you ever 

been in love?

like it was an invite. 

I declined

to answer with a smirk

instead lifting his hand

to my face to breathe

in the beach 

that contrasted

all my clouds. 

Children and Their Toys

You rattle me 

over and over 

listening to me 

shake inside out 

and something about

the movement gives

me hope even though

I am no more 

than entertainment

to be hand me downed 

to another boy 

unappreciative of the way

I move like something 

inside is broken. 

Notebook

I am the back

pages of a notebook

smeared with meaningless 

doodles and scribbles

of things you really 

don't give a shit about. 

Lessons

My father taught me

to only say I love you

if you are yelling it

through tears

boiling against your skin.

No one must know 

how blistered I am.

It is like matches scraped

all over my bones. 

River

Watch for the current

of my rage while 

you burn this bridge;

make sure

you are a damn

good swimmer.

Being Nice

Nice never got me 

anywhere good

so let the pink lipstick

provocatively caressing 

this cigarette

be the thing that makes

you want to inhale every

mean part of me. 

Untitled

I was in a corner

when you told me

don't harm yourself. 

How would I?

The burning of

your hand

still debilitates me. 

Rain

I will teach you to talk 

to my sadness 

and you will treasure 

the conversations 

in the same way 

I appreciate the smell 

of an awaited rain. 

Origins

Sometimes your rage

fuels me to find

better men

but mostly I wonder 

if I'll ever be something

other than bored

with men who

make me feel 

more than broken 

Preemptive

I miss you

while you are pushing

my hair away from my eyes

and mine meet yours

but there is no contact. 

Angst

No one wants

to publish

these words

I am writing. 

Even neatly typed,

hiding the chicken

scratch, I can't

seen to perfect

these words. 

And the worst?

My epiphany

is lost on

my reader. 

Burning Bridges

How alarming

that sometimes you burn

bridges

only to be swimming 

carefree some months

later

when one of the broken

boards bounced downstream 

and hits you

hard. 

I'm underwater 

and I can't breathe. 

Pac Man

I am not your

top score

but I am a maze

with some difficulty. 

I have power

pellets that will make

you feel like 

the control is yours. 

You play me

skillfully

while moving your

fingers, touching 

just the right buttons

then sliding through

tunnels to avoid

the side where 

everything seems 

to chase you. 

You will lose a life

in this labyrinth 

but I know 

you will keep going

until eventually you win

with a shout of

"fucking bitch"

in celebration. 

Boston Winter

You are a snow bank. 

I am a Pacific NW

girl that doesn't own 

snow boots. 

I heard that every

snowflake 

is beautifully different 

but when you are piled

together and I am more

than knee deep

I just want you to melt

so I can put on rain boots

and jump into a

familiar puddle. 

Don't Cry

I feel hell

in my face -

burning in my nose

sparks in my throat

preasure in my head

from all this smoke. 

I could put out 

this fire by 

releasing my eyes

but I am bound 

to feel nothing

when this flame dies. 

I have mixed drinks about feelings

I'll sit at this bar 

and take shots

of thoughts

about everything. 

I'll mix spirits. 

Get white girl

wasted. 

Fuck that classy

wine sipping

and reasonable thinking. 

I am stood up 

by so many. 

What else can I do

but think

think think.