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. "