I just want a man who will write poetry about me,
who understands how words are a closer music.
that tells of heart beats and the color of your damp breath
long after the sunset
and it was warm
warm like arms that made me realize i had never known safty
but this,
this was something diffrent.

I just want,
I just want a man who will write me love poems
tuck them behind my ear in whispers
like love letters left on pillows in the morning
for the sunshine to kiss
"because i am not there and not able to".

inconsistencies

And all morning I have been crying
And shutting on off like a lamppost.
Sticky sandy eyes
And my wires falling out my front.
Haphazard sparks sporiticly twitch my insides
And mix me like an egg beater on the fritz.

Cold clean water is something to stare at when it falls out of taps
And the white of your bathroom tile matches my mood,
So I will lay here
Not soaking in the sun as I should.
Not being happy.
Wishing the day more grey
And my mood more compatible
Then a seesaw;
Then a no that is yes.

mistress mary

Or am I just like Mary,
Moving round and round your wall?
Oh mistress bless me
With your key.
Let me into your secret garden.

You're so safe behind your wall.
You gaurd your self so well.
Your wild roses prick my fingers
biting into me .
You are not forbidden fruit
And this is not a maze;
Im sick of playing games
In your eden .

You hold your honeyed flowers
So high above my head,
Your sweetest words have poison tougues
hiding in your mouth.
When winter winds have withered
all the other flowerbeds dry
Will I find havens in your twisted paths
or sanctuary in your eyes

(Forgive me. Let's marry, Have babies, …)
Or am I still like Mary,
Moving round and round your wall...

my daughter

I hope she never knows disapoinment. Because it stings like falling stars hitting your cheek.
I hope she loves like tomorrow that same moon that held her love songs wont turn a cold shoulder to her.
And I hope for all the beauty in life that it sometimes brings her pain.
So she can know in the worth of the stars
When she wakes up next to a lover, with the early sun painting them gold, what it is like to be endless.

the deli

The over ripe little tomatos
swell like juicy placentas before me.
They bruise out the substance of their life,
Like greedy fat little pregnant whores
Grinning sly smiles of devious satisfaction and entrapment.

The carrots demand the attention of my eyes
in a way that is neither a whisper or a shout.
Their hard stalk straight bodies an awkward eighth grader
With acne scares and braces.
Shuffling from foot to foot on stork tall
knobby kneed legs. Corkscrew ragmop
(carrot top, ... carrot top,....)

Bread after mundane bread; a sea of crackling mulato
Opens its yeasty center to me.
Drops in clap bored thump
( flip flop, flip flop,)
The tear of its keening wrappings the low humdrum zip
Of a durex in a seedy underbelly hole
To the tune of its 12:59 am my little preteen
Trailer trash princess,
Does your daddy know where you are?

The sauces sigh and drip
Like apathy on an old worn mothers face.
Snot colored mucus rain, against a window pane,
Falls relentlessly.
Endlessly the pool of anothers eyes
Boil over into the bubbling cupped hands
Of a thousand secret volcanos
Just under the surface of things.
You would not look at me;
And I could not look away.

I've spoken the names of the stars by mistake
And if I did things its not by design.
I wonder though this forest
My minds a simpleton.
Lalala my wagging tongue
I drone on and on
Not minding where I step
Or that my words fall like bullets to some,
On houses and lives.

One hand weaves the tapestry of my dreams
And the other hand tears into disrepair.

heartache

I woke up this morning and I missed you.
Im trying to be careful but I wonder if there will ever come a time
When I won't wake up to feel this dull pain where my heart is said to be.

I remember the warmth and feeling of light spreading across my chest
Just because I woke up and saw your sleeping face.
I always want to touch you in these moments
Just to prove to myself that you are real -
This isn't a fairytale or dream.

There's nothing like falling asleep in your arms
And waking up to the sun in my eyes and you, glowing and beautiful.
but now there is rain and Im alone upon a familiar bed
Reaching out for something I can't have. That is no longer there.
And I try to remember, painting incomplete portraits of you.
I dream frail dreams that don't capture your light.
I spin and imagine different outcomes
That don't ring true without your voice to lead them.

I remember so much and forget a little of you every time you go away.
So please, if you're listening to anything I say,
return to me
So the world will be right again.

Ah, the wastefulness of grace.
All the beauty for naught.
The fluidity of movement that will not be remembered.
The flutter of wings that passes unnoticed.
All the sweet words I whispered to you
Unmark the world and die.
They slip like sighs from our lips
And flee into the night
To fade like shadows under the moon.

Every golden perfect moment,
Every sunset and lazy afternoon,
Every cold and quiet morning or breathlessly clear sky of stars
I longed to give to you.
All those moments of immaculate wonder,
But they die, fade,
Because I do not know how.

And if I could,
If I bound them up in nets of fairytales and dream dust
And presented them to you
How could you accept?
How would you even know what they were?
Would you laugh at me for being so foolish,
And release them
With a flick of your artful wrist.
To rise and form clouds
Far from a place of touching.
slipping from my fingertips,
... I will never hold them again.

dreams of eden

Long long ago in an ancient garden between two trees
So far away, I can still taste the dust in my mouth,
you whispered " This is what forever feels like."

This is what makes me long for you.

let me be your first love

I just wanted to be that girl,
you know, the one you saw waving in the wind in that perfect sundress.
The one who caught your eyes and heart by surprise.

And years later to your friends, or on some field or war, or maybe just in the private moments of yourself
you'll retell the tale.
Of how you were young ( or old) how you were just a boy
And I was to old for you but you couldn't realize it at the time
Or how I went away one summer and came back a woman.

Tell of how my kiss on the cheek was meaningless and we were only children
tell how you secretly treasured it until we kissed again one purfume drenched starry night under the same juniper bush.
Tell how love surprised you and knocked you off your feet. Tell how you had always known I was the one and held out for me and waited.

Tell how I've changed you
For the better or for the good
How we married like highscool sweethearts
or how you never saw my face again and that always bothered you.
Tell me of your first felt love with all it's emotions and jittery wires jumping off so seemingly unexpected and new.
Of all the losses of innocence and the understanding of how you were different and better and worse now.
All at the same time.
How losing was sad and a right of passage that we all must take some time
down back dirt roads in some dying ally of summer that we only remembered the way to when we were young.

love jornal notes

I've never been kissed like that.
Cupped my jaw with the slightest breath of fingertips.
Delicate moments stolen from fragile seconds
Trading this passion through the force of the thought
That there might not be tomorrow.

In that moment you changed me -
I now believe in the stories about love my mother told me.
I would often lie awake at night wishing, wishing a fools hope
That those stories would be true.
Like the fairytales I'd hear but know there's no way it could be real.

And now I stand here,
Hurricane rains kissing my face
Like your lips
Which fell again and again like a hand of violence.
Wishing they would leave me silent.
I am breathless and though
quiet, not speechless.
Our tongues tattooing out a morse code
On eachother
Of all the things we thought but it was too early
And fragile to make into sound.

I think I found I think I found
Racing through my head
Like dreams or secrets and other such whispers
That we lay there sharing after
Hands twined, shoulder to shoulder.
And you would not stop kissing me

Like this rainfall
Like these winds that blow away
The skeletons of our past.
Leaving us two blank slates to write on eachother
The beautiful love story of a future
As young as we are, in this moment,
Could be endless.

We complete in eachother a ring of endless light
Ringing with praises that reach out to the one who made us.
Thanking that throughout whatever series of unfortunate stumblings
Still led us to one another.
That all our imperfect choices made with imperfect hands
Could still make a past of sorrow into a life beautiful.

Love like this makes us infinite.

sirens call the siren tonight

She loved how men thought with a little persistence
She would just fall right into bed with them.

Her hair, soft brown ringlets falling with airy grace down her back
Was now chopped and dyed and patched over into an ugly chaotic mop
That was more statement then beauty.

Knew how to force intimacy,
Knew how to make others love her;
With her sweet eyes and fragile strength.
Knew how to ask questions, the right questions,
And make quick bonds.
Like fixes. Like drugs.
Like a precarious experimental game.
So delicately she spun out emotional ties
That wove themselves around eachother
And years later men called her still, they could not let go.

But she was done. Done with all that.
Enclosed in houses with looking glass dolls and predictable affection.
She longed for something beyond her power. Something she couldn't predict.
She wanted love that was a surprise with all it's beautiful colors and rough edges.
Its imperfection not whittled down into bubbles.

...

whatever the weather may be.

When we were newly in love
I attended to you like a just-born babe.
Spider walking my hands across your flesh,
Letting you suckle from my breast;
Splashing in puddles and laughing
For the world was always in sunshine for us.

But one day subtly shadowed the thought
That this could live forever.
A cloud stole over our sun
And in that darkened flicker things changed.
So one day we would wake up with the thought that
"yesterday I loved you,
But today I no longer feel the same."
And we didn't know whence it came.

I can't be this girl again

If you loved me
you would have time for me.

I just wish you would waste your time on me
even the seconds you deem worthless...

Sometimes at night when I can't sleep I think about your poems.
Your words get caught in my brain at the oddest of times and wont unstick until I recite them to myself
Laying on my pillow staring at the roof.
And I wish I had more of an excuse to know you, and unravel the too skinny boy with his secrets and pen that I know to little about.
You could die tomorrow ( as you have been giving away piece by piece and it has not gone unnoticed ) and I would be helpless to help you.

...

I guess that's what happens when a man is everything to you.
You lose everything when he leaves.

And then you are a nothing girl,
You sit and stare at the walls
And try to remember how life went
When you were about 15 and boys
Weren't as important as school or friends.

You try to pick up the pieces
And cut your fingers on some
But still the same, you try.

You realize you don't smile anymore
So you practice til you can coax
Brilliant sunny dispositions out of air,
And laugh with movie star grace
At the monotony of existence.

You recite your name
So you remember who you were.

Crush

You left. Displacing air
That blew backward as if hurrying away
Like old men slouching, hurry along the street outside
Looking for something lost.

But when the air returned it caressed
As if with fingers belonging to a hand
Longing to be held.
A shy child that apologizes without words.
I clung to pictures like I wanted so desperately to cling to you.

Leaving notes to myself that spoke of the love you never gave.
I wonder if I'm insane or if this is perfectly normal;
To obsess. I'm ashamed.
12 years old and awkwardly agonizing
Because I want you to notice me and I thinking I'm to ugly to have you notice.
I'm not good at loving, I can only give and not second guess every word and action.
I'm broken of being too analytical.

I've forgotten what I once knew
And I can only stand here trembling,
Not daring to say a word
Because I don't know the right thing to say.
My hopes contradict them selves
And I'm inclosing faster then you can reveal me.
I want you to understand with out my tongue tripping and hopscotching around phrases
That I'm too afraid to share with you -
That I have always been to scared to share with anyone.

This is all in my head.
If life is simple there is a black and white answer
[either you notice or you don't notice]
but in this over/out blown world
Where bubblegum bubbles and the scent of a boys hair
Are hot air balloons and jungles of fragrance
A glance is undressing,
Your touch on my hand the intimacy of love making.
I find myself wishing I wasn't so stupid.
So naive, so painfully self aware of what I am
Which is nothing.
Nothing to you. Nothing at all.

Today is a day for confessions

I never want to cry around you because I want the time I spend with you to be happy.
I try not to get attached because honestly you scare the hell out of me. I'm scared to love you or feel anything because I know you will never love me back.

You say your scared to tell her you love her because you're 99% sure she'd never talk to you again.
Well I can't ever tell you that I feel the exact same way.
I hate how she treats you. I hate that she ignores you for weeks then comes over just to fuck you. I hate that you love her.

0.

Size 0 was always a dream floating past me.
I used to sit on my bathroom floor,
back propped against the tiles where my spine cut like uneven knife wounds into me, dreaming of being size 0.

They say a girl of 5'1 should be 103.
133 always told me I'm a failure.
And just a glass of water was all I would take
Hoping to wash away that unclean greased feeling
That 30 extra pounds gives you.

Have you ever tried sleeping on a dead empty stomach?
its not so bad.
kind of like some one punching you from the inside,
fighting for you to give in and have one little bite of food.

Its better then standing up
Or moving when you haven't eaten for days.
being dizzy always scared me
Ever since that time I fainted at work
And smashed my face into a metal ice scoop.
And that was only on pursuit of size two.
I'm more careful now.

"just a little juice."

" really, I'm fine"

"Not pasty just naturally pale."

"It's just so hot in here."
Really, there are a thousand excuses for why you look sick.

Have you ever done disgusting things to make yourself not eat?
like crawling into a maggot coated trash barrel
And scrubbing it out.
Hoping the three week old soup of other peoples meals
Will make you sick and you can purge
Whatever calories are left.
Wondering to yourself all the while
"Does throwing up count as negative calories?"

I just want to be a size zero.
I want toothpick thighs that don't rub together when I walk;
that look good in dresses and amazing in jeans.
I want to look like the mannequins in clothing shops.
The perfect body type, for why else would they try to sell clothing off it?
(have you ever seen a 168lb mannequin? there's a reason for that)

I just want this fucking body to listen up.
I cry every time I look in the mirror or look at these god dammed legs
that in my despair I worry will never look right.
Will never be skinny.

I want people to feel my bones when they touch me and treat me delicately.
I want girls to look at me enviously wishing they could look like that.
And men, I never want to have another man look at my body in disgust or uncertainty.
Never want another man to leave me for someone more skinny or pretty.
I want to feel worthy of attractive peoples affection.

I just wish I could unzip this fat suit and step out as the real me.

I want to be happy and have one less worry.
103 . . . I can do better then this.

It Is Over

Now I know.
I mean for sure,
It's done.
I can pack up my memories in boxes
With diary pages like old news papers around them.
I can put those pictures
And dreams away.
Every time I see a place I wanted to show you
I can finally look without the ghosts images
Of you and I before my eyes.
It's fitting that on this day
There should be rain.
Someone was merciful and didn't give me
A bright sun to mock my misery.
No. This isn't a nice day,
A fine day,
There aren't birds singing in a blue perfect sky.
This isn't the kind of day I would of wished
To share with you.
It is a broken ruined day
And I like it.
Every perfect thing reminds me of you.