someone else's street

I had laced my shoes

uptight

to walk the path

carved out for me.

Following faded &

unfamiliar footsteps

down someone else's

dead.

end.

street.

where my feet

were fumbling,

stumbling over

greying

decaying carcasses

of long forgotten dreams.

My ears ringing

with the stifled screams

of Hope

dying

(almost muted silent )

behind the doors

that slowly

drifted closed

& everyone knows,

this isn't a place

you ever fully escape

but here, for me

there is

no life to be found.

So, I stop...

and begin to take off

these shoes

that never really fit

my soles suddenly

bare

hit the ground

I turn & break

into a run

fresh air & freedom

filling my

lungs

sprinting forward

until I feel that they

might burst.

It is always the first

step

that is the hardest to take.

What You Told Me~Spoken Word Poem

morning ritual

I send you poems
Each morning
To touch
what my body
Cannot.
Gentle kisses of
Verse, trailing down
Your neck
Prose pressed fingertips
To stir you
Over coffee.
Across the miles,
& through these lines,
I'm sending
Tiny fragments
Of my heart.
Yet I can't help
but wonder if
My point or
My Love
Ever, really
Reach you.

elegant

You are as elegant & cherished
as all of the books that lined my shelves.
(I should have left you there)
But you were open & full
of blank pages.
So eager for me to bleed life into you
Spill my beauty out,
in creation.
& paint you,
a body of poetry.

So I stroked your spine.
Traced my fingers along
your white edges
& timidly, tenderly,
I gave you the lines
that I could.
I fear now,
that it left you more empty.

But if you look
there, where you're
Stitched together...
You will see,
Scrawled out in my ink
"You are the poem
I didn't deserve to write. "

thorns

your eyes are open &

full of the feast of my flesh.

I am a bitter fruit

disguised by sweet &

fragrant flowers

but you only imagine

unfolding my petals

one by one…

“She Loves me.”

“She Loves me not”

you want to hold me,

pluck me apart.

but then you’ll blame me

for my thorns

when you’re pricked.

I’m sorry if it’s painful.

consider that

I never asked to be picked,

& your desire is transient.

I am not what you’re looking for.

belief

I have a friend, who is a God.

& although neither of us believe

in that kind of thing,

I swear I’m nearly converted.

He emanates light & beauty & Love

so much,

that I would gladly kneel in worship,

throw my hands up in praise,

“Hallelujah”

or lay down my life,

to defend my belief in him.

But he is a God, who doesn’t know it.

He is, no less, than all of the Heavens

and still, even more

than that.

whispers

My nephew whispers

when he speaks

softly, of pirate ships

& playroom discoveries.

His lips,

tickle my ears

with his conspiratorial telling.

And my bewildered sister asks,

“Why is he always whispering?”

I can only smile.

“When you are young & still,

know all the wonders of the Universe

it is, most certainly,

a secret.”

fragments of light

this is what remains.

fragments of light,

and nothing more.

yet somehow laughter

hangs here

still, like a thick smoke

in the air.

& passion tingles upon

our fingertips

softly tracing out,

their flesh memories.

while bitten tongues retain the taste

of sweetly swollen lips

& lush forbidden fruits.

what once was lingers

on the fringe of

fragile hearts

but…

there are only fragments of light here

we must fumble

through this dark.

desolation

Its strange
(in such a brief time)
How you had written your
self, all over my life.
How, now,
even the simple things
bring
memories of you.
Your crooked smile growing
in the corner of my eye.
The ghosts of your fingers on my skin.
Your smell still lingering on clothing.
Tears and soap
can only wash away
so much.
Your absence
is all around me.
How painful it is
to try to enjoy
my favorite
films. novels. songs.
they are all alive
and screaming out
your name.
Like dusty signs that read
"He was here. Now he is gone."

a funeral of sorts

I wasn't ready for that flood

of emotions,

(but no one ever is)

as I stood there staring

at the lifeless body

of your empty house.

Only days ago, it was alive

& filled with our breath.

Our laughter

was ringing through it.

But now,

it is only a shell,

sullen & silent.

except for my echoing

sorrow

in mourning

for all that is lost.

unspoken poem

In you, there is a poem

My heart can scarcely

bear

To write.

It sighs in our chests

while we’re sleeping

With your head

Cradled against my breast.

It speaks softly

In the silence &

the spaces that

Linger between us.

It’s rhythm

pounds out in our

Heartbeats.

Yet as near

as we are

to each other, we

are hearing

different words,

& we are worlds

apart

in our intention.

Maybe I should mention

that I Love you,

but then again,

maybe you should say

that you don’t.

let it rain

he is a man

with thunder

under his skin

& a mouth like

lightning…

everything bright,

consuming

& strong.

now, I am a woman

who stands

like a child,

in rubber

rain boots

with arms

flung wide

looking

towards the

heavens &

praying for

a storm

heretic

I am sorry that

your God

was hollow for me.

I wasn’t blessed

with a heart

or a mind

which could easily

be filled

with the same spirit

that binds you

(blissfully blind)

to your ignorant

devotion.

I wish I could

have believed

for you

or that you

could have still

Loved me,

despite my

disbelief.

wasting time

I can think of no better way

to pass a Sunday afternoon

than lazing

in the shadow of your smile

& I find,

I don’t mind being lost

with you, travelling down

the long

winding paths of our limbs

locked together like vines

it’s hard to imagine anything, more

beautiful, for me

than drinking in your laughter

as it stirs me,

beside you, drinking coffee.

no… I am certain there is nothing

as fulfilling

as killing time

with you,

which is never a waste

at all.

young (enough) *a silly Love poem

I Love being inspired by other poets & I recently read a piece that sparked the idea for this poem. It was far darker than mine however. It was from the perspective of someone who had made these carefree plans of moving to Ohio (of all places) & doing silly things with the person they Loved. Then time & resposiblity got in the way of everything they had hoped to do. I read it & immediately wanted to say to the writer "It's not too late!!"

You know, it’s not too late

to give this story a happy ending.

We could run off to Paris & change

our names to Claude & Sally,

or something more glamorous even…

like Alphonse & Veronique.

I mean,

we are still young (enough)

to run laughing hand-in-hand

into the wild & beautiful

oblivion of hope.

We can live, in a cottage by the sea

where I can take care of you &

you can sing songs for me &

help me remember where I put my smile

when I carelessly misplaced it.

I promise, there is plenty of time

to Love & create

to sing & to smile

because we are still young enough,

to grow old & silly together.

truthfully

my tongue was heavy

& your jaw was slack

you know, when a person’s

beliefs become reality

reality itself, sometimes

can come, as quite a shock.

you didn’t hear what

was written in every

awkward pause

(because you didn’t want to)

and after all

words are simply words

until they wound someone

maybe it was Love

that held us to this

broken ground

for far too long

maybe it was fear…

but truthfully

 it might have been nothing at all.

our feast

we have prepared

a feast of desires

& been gluttons

at this table of flesh

yet, we are never

completely sated

so we stay & wallow

in the want

filling ourselves

up, until we burst

over & over again

in an endless

meal of passion

let go

There is no other

direction to take

from here

every road

converged

& somehow

lead us to this place

I saw it spread

 like light

over the horizon

of your face,

between the

reason & the doubt

within an instant

it all poured out,

our truth

regret & Love

have overwhelmed

this space

where we

have to let go

to hold on.



after the storm

~I recently read a poem that reminded me of this one, so I dug through my old notebooks & found it. It gives me a bit of a disjointed feeling, but I couldn't bring myself to change it when I no longer own these emotions.~

that spring,

the rain seeped

through the cracks

in the sidewalks

& our smiles

while we,

(with fingers entwined)

splashed about

in the places

that flooded & pooled

the deepest.

we threw our heads

back, showering our

impenetrable laughter

on anyone

passing by,

no one  

would  steal  our

thunderous joy…

but the rain

didn’t stop.

& soon,

it slipped its way

up, through heavy

saturated clothes

& soaked straight

under our skin

until the chill set in.

we shivered then

& clasped each other’s

hands, trying to breathe

warm life

back into fingertips,

& us.

I was not cut out

for that climate

& you were too emaciated

to offer, any

of your warmth

our bones rattled

& muscles ached from

clenching

we were so far

gone, that  when

the sun finally

found its way to us

again

the only rays

that reached

came in through the

holes our Love made

as it had chewed itself

out of our chests.

seam ripper

there is no simplicity

or  clean severance here

it does not  matter

how badly

we want it.

there is only you

& me

standing awkward

with sinew & flesh

hanging askew.

staring at the

gaping places

where we were

once,

sewn together