Waxing Poetic

The maybes of you and me
paralyze me
and pin me to my sheets
in tears.
I haven't felt this afraid in a long time
which means
I haven't been this honest
in just as long.

I may not feel safe
but I don't feel unsafe
and that's the first step, I suppose.

I'm not asking you to make any promises to me
but
I will humbly ask you
to tread lightly
if you don't intend to stay here.

Because the best of your intentions
might make it hurt less
but real love
takes chances.

nothing

I guess I'm done writing for the night.
That was exhausting.
and quiet.
but it's never over, is it?

and I guess I'm not broken,
if I'm meant to be this way.

AIM Conversation #645

There are some parts of my I'll always hate
those demons I may defeat
but keep around
just to remind myself
I've beaten them.

he tells me
i've overcome
(lie)
i'm hard
(lie)
i'm cold
(lie)
i never loved you.

that last one isn't a lie
because it's hard to be in love
with a broken girl and her demons,
isn't it?

You shouldn't read this

I didn't move
because I was busy not thinking;
if he had touched my mind
I wouldn't be around here today to tell you this.

Down for the count,
and not getting up until they ring that bell,
I just can't see myself standing with these knees.

it's imprisonment and
throwing away the key to those places
you could have gone,
it's doing what you have to
to get through,
it's letting him lie next to you
and throwing up in your mouth
and knowing nothing will ever feel good again.

At least not in this body.

Breakfast

you only came in for the coffee
you tell me
as your well-formed arm reaches over my open notebook.
Your hands are empty, I see.

Something other than you
has got to fill my lungs
something other than
your proximity
the waves floating off your skin
the beams glancing off those eyes
has got to walk through that door.

and if it doesn't,
i might leave this place with you.

abusing a body that has already been there before
doesn't feel as bad as it used to.

after all,
what does it matter who shits where I eat when
i've lost count already.

My Lai

gate keeper
memory seeker
chasing solace through barren lands

they've already come through here with their flame throwers.








there are no wombs left to bear anyone any hope.





my opus may not be drawn
on the blank canvas you've left
stretched over that gaping hole in chest
but it will come.

I will write those wombs
I will speak that hope.
I will plant stories in the land where my father died.

T.A.V, or the man who cried on my shoulder once

Some of these things are better left.

It's all a path
and that path starts somewhere
in down-home houses with fields behind.

No beauty comes without a price tag,
and this is mine.

Running the gauntlet
was more like
curling up on the floor
when you're ten
and those hands are so big.

Only so many places to hide
from he who is hiding the past.
No one expected you to swallow it all,
and when you tried
we all watched in pain
as it came back up all over our nice little dinner.

Table settings and curtains can't hide
the ways you try to leave that country
that left you.

The real lesson here is that war never ends.

Because I'm still fighting it for you.