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Tuesday, December 23, 2008


There is a layer of ice covering me
that you cannot see.
Things get confusing easily,
so I am protecting
my heart.
The closer you get,
the further I slip away.
Things are better, this way.

"Cold Shoulder"

Boo, it's raining!

Friday, November 28, 2008


Electric blanket, cover me
wrap your heated layers around me
and thaw these aching toes.
My muscles and bones
relax in your embrace,
and I am sure again
that I have a nose on my face.
So turn up the heat,
and snuggle in beneath.
I am snug with my mug of tea.
I'm finally

So, my room at home is the worst when it comes to keeping in heat. So I stole my little brother's electric blanket. I'M IN LOVE

Saturday, November 22, 2008


The autumn trees let fall their autumn tears, and we rejoice in the streaks of color on the cheeks of fall. I cannot deny savoring the taste of it on my tongue, vibrant and crisp when I breathe, violently seizing me when I have to leave. So scarves and hats appear with winter coats, and no glove is ever left alone. Bare skin is cold skin, and we strive to remain warm within. So come inside before you get too cold, before the snow covers your way home. Come inside, and don’t come alone.

I was trying to get some imagery & metaphors in there, along with the idea that this season is pretty and spent with people you love.

So, it's already snowed in this area of the US. In fact, I think the first snow was in October sometime, the teens or twenties.

Monday, October 20, 2008


Lovely friend I miss you and the way your face looks when you smile. We haven’t spoken in a while- feel free to keep in touch. You know me enough, I’m sure, to know that I’m not to be trusted to communicate anymore. I love you just the same, and think of you often in my days. If you can’t write or call, promise one thing; if you ever get the chance at all, please think fondly of me?

Long time no see (or speak).

For all the friends I forget to keep in touch with-

I still love you~♥

Sunday, October 19, 2008


I’m mostly silent, so she loosens my jaw, twisting left until I want to talk. She curls my hair and says I’m like her doll, so I smile and say, “I hope that’s not all.” We laugh, she says that we’re good friends, and I begin to hope this dream will never end.

Amy loves to dress people up & make them pretty... :D


What of lakes makes them placid? Wavelets lapping, gently slapping sandy shores. I’m not sure anymore why I dislike them, smell or lack of direction. Perhaps it is the memories I carry with me, when all was bright and sunny and friends traveled in threes. We have grown older now and no one will carry me screaming into the lake. Did I ever like it, anyway?

I used to like lakes, but all the ones in Ohio are gross. Plus, I've been to the ocean, which was way better than a stagnant stinky lake anyways.

Friday, September 19, 2008


There is a thin blade of metal
curving beneath my left breast
it is coming loose and cutting into my chest.
I try to push it back but
whenever I move, I
once again feel a sharp suspicion that
it has come undone.
Later, I realize
that an underwire is sometimes like life-
nice until it falls apart,
edging painfully closer to your heart.
I laughed a little,
and put on a new bra.

That bra was one of my favorites, too.

Thursday, September 18, 2008


I am rushing to and fro,
people to see, places to go,
I'm running
out of time.
I am working on the brink
of not getting any sleep;
I'm trying
not to whine.
It's just that I'm so busy,
and I just want some time
for me.

Busy, busy, busy.

Loving it, but still. Kinda ridiculously full schedule. 7:30 am to 11 pm, always something to be doing.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


Every fraction of a cent is a skin cell-
I'm losing pieces of myself.
Heart strings and purse strings-
they are the same thing
(for me).
Retail therapy doesn't work, you see,
when the guilt is so heavy
that it crushes the high.
So put those cute shoes back, and I
will show you the door.
I can't take it anymore.

Even thrift shopping makes me feel bad now :(

So, I guess I'm not doing a poem a day.
WAY too busy.
I'm actually going to try this year :D

Saturday, August 16, 2008


The wind sighs through nearby trees,
and I follow suit as I drift into peace.
The sun is resting against my skin,
and I let the warmth of it seep in
to my muscles. Tiredness is fleeting,
and I have some time before the next meeting.
For now, I have no burdens on my chest.
At the moment, all I have is rest.

I love just sitting in the sun.
I hate the hot humidity, though.
It's killer :D

Friday, August 15, 2008


I'm on my hands and knees
I am begging with my hands,
Dirt and scum and filth,
I am using all my elbow grease.
I am cleaning,
and this
is filthy.

So, RA training and "sprucing up" the dorms.
Lots of hard work.

Thursday, August 14, 2008


7 lines, 6 beats per

Sore muscles, heavy bags-
the longest road is the one
leading towards the end.
The beginning is there as well;
new room, new dean, new smell.
I am comfortable
here. See you soon, maybe.

So, I'm here :D

Wednesday, August 13, 2008


8 lines, 5 beats per

My head is pounding.
The paper is blank.
My eyes are hurting.
The cursor just blinks.
I can't get to sleep.
I can't really think.
Can't write anything-
writer's block again.

Ugh. I'm so tired. Still haven't packed...!

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


It is an old rhythm,
always cold inside of me.
I tap it out, sometimes,
when I get angry.
How fast depends on how
hot my blood is boiling.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap tap tap.
Like that.

I tend to make beats when I get upset. Funny habit. At least I don't punch holes in walls anymore :D

So I posted three poems today to make up for the days I didn't. Just an FYI. Trying to post one every day this month.


5 lines, 10 beats per
I am soaking up sunshine on the roof,
closer to the sun than anyone a-
-round me. I am above my surroundings,
I'm even with the trees. Toast for fifteen
minutes, then flip me over if you please.

I need to tan.
But it's so hot on the roof...


killer roses and overgrown weeds
broken bones and nosebleeds
fires and warm winter nights
bad storms and moonlight
books and paper everywhere
ever pervasive animal hair
stained counters and still-clean tile
all the things I won't see for a while.

Not that I'm sad about leaving. I'm excited.
It's just...
You know.

Saturday, August 9, 2008


Yesterday I caught a mouse,
set it on the deck outside my house,
and watched it run away.
I felt a little sorry
for the tiny beat up body,
and I wanted it to stay.
But some things you set free
knowing you won't see
them ever again.
So I sat out on the patio
and thought, "For all I know,
that mouse might've been a friend."

Because sometimes you let people run away, and sometimes they slip out of your hands. The point is- You might not see these people again, so love them while you can.

Friday, August 8, 2008


I have not seen a train
mobile, but their tracks remain.
I wish to be like that, not seen
but you can see where I've been
from the marks I have left.
When I rust away, the world is not bereft
of some piece of me.
That is how I want to be.

I didn't have anything to post until I started to type.
I love it when things come out like that~♥

Thursday, August 7, 2008


When you are filling the space next to me,
all I feel is security,
guarantee of positively.
When you leave,
all I feel is the emptiness of maybes,
and I wish you were next to me

Miss you~♥

Wednesday, August 6, 2008


So, I didn't write any actualy poetry, because I had a poetic experience that I just couldn't translate & I wanted to share it with you.

So, I had the sudden impulse to climb onto my roof the other night. I do this regularly during the day, but never at night (that's when the mosquitoes really come out). Once I'm out there, I don't feel content to sit on the lower roof- I feel compelled to climb on to the next roof level. So I do. Now here I am, laying on the highest part of my house, and I decide on my own to watch for a shooting star. There are a few personal reasons behind it, but we'll just leave those out. I don't see any shooting stars because I'm so near the city, and I'm feeling pretty sad about it, when I see the North Star/ Dog Star. I kinda just stare at it for a while, and this HUGE thought dawns on me.
Shooting stars light up the world only momentarily, and while they are beautiful, they are only temporary. The North Star, in comparison, gives off a steady and reliable brilliance. The North Star has been used to help people find where they are, and lead them to safety. You can't do that with shooting stars.
I thought to myself, I am looking into the eye of God.
In life, we may have things we treasure; friends, significant others, family, your favorite outfit, a car or camera or computer, etc. The thing is, we can't take those things with us when we die. They are only temporary flashes of happiness in our lives. On the other hand, God is with us always, and if you think about it, more than always. He knew us before we knew ourselves, and when we are brought back to life through His love, it will be to spend eternity with Him.
I gave myself some time for it all to sink in, and realized that I no longer felt the need to be on my roof at an unreasonable time of night. So I climbed through the window into my room, and sat there while I came to the conclusion that Someone had sent me on to that roof, maybe just to have that epiphany.

It was a beautiful thought, and I just wanted to share it with you.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008


The rumble of bass and the vibrations in the air shake me, and I think that if the earth started quaking I would not care or know. We are jumping with the crowd, people pressed all around so that there is nowhere else to go. So we scream the lyrics loud and beat the air with our hands. Without having been there, the joy is hard to understand.

So, Toby Mac & Diverse City concert last night.
So much more hardcore than I thought it would be.

Monday, August 4, 2008


Do not speak to me if you do not want to be happy, for I will tug at the corners of your mouth with such surety that you surely will not know what to expect. What I say next is nobody’s guess, and I love to keep them on their proverbial toes. So do not set anything into straight lines, for I have come to loosen things up and your heart will be mine (just as any fruit can be shaken from a tree). I will jiggle us into hilarity.

I think my favorite phrase is, "jiggle us into hilarity". I just like the word "jiggle" there.

So, another lighthearted piece. I'm on a roll!

Sunday, August 3, 2008


Hello, goodbye,
it's time again
for this cruel world to meet its end.
Argentina, do not cry-
with this fall I die!
I'm alive!
(high five)
Killing myself is the way I survive,
can't you see?
Nobody understands me!
Cup of tea?
I take mine with cyanide-
a more sophisticated suicide,
don't you think?
So now, my sorrows, sink!
Oh, no!
Not enough sugar, I fear,
to drown the taste of my tears.
All these years
I have tried,
but I just can't seem to die!
Killing myself is the way I survive.
A game of chess?
Oh yes!
Just as soon as I tie this rope-
so ends my only hope!
Goodbye, I cry,
and fall and die!
The rope wasn't as strong as I'd thought-
this is the fifth good rope that I've bought!
What a waste,
and not even good taste!
So ends my failure-
(don't buy it)
Next time I swear that I'll bite it!

It's more Tongue in Cheek, actually, but that's more than one word and I'm rather fond of my one-word titles.

Anyways, I wrote this a long time ago and lost it, and have just recently re-discovered it. It's quite hilarious, if I do say so myself.

I think it was titled, "Killing Myself is the Way I Survive."

Saturday, August 2, 2008


Bitter bitches do not start with me; can’t you see that I am living happily? Your wicked words and ways cannot hurt me. I am stuck up in the treetops nearest to the sun, absorbing brightness of soul and strength to carry on. You cannot reach me up this far, I will push your pain away like a current, and shoot your doubt down like the stars. So walk on, bitter bitches, you will never get to me- I am much to smart to let you see any sunless part of me.

"Ascend" because it's about rising above the negativity and saying, "Hey, guess what? I don't care! :D" (except you'd actually smile, rather than just hold up a sign with a smiley face on it or something).

Friday, August 1, 2008


The clock’s heart hangs heavy, empty hands swinging to pass the time, its constant murmured mantra, “You never were mine.” I am rhythmic in denial like my friend, thinking in circles with thoughts like, “If only I could try again.” If only you would lay fingertips on me, we could see how to keep measure with our heartbeats. So like the clock, though, I am still forlorn; until then, never lover, keep your hands warm for me.

Are you tired of reading my sad nonsense? Because I'm pretty tired of writing it. I'll write something sunny soon, I promise.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008


Hell is melting in your eyes, and I have never seen so many lies in one place. A small novel scrawled upon your face, medleys of “I’ll try,” and “You’ll be fine.” I look away, but your hands carve forgeries as well, the fictional stories at which you excel. I cannot cut the cord of blood that binds us, nor can I hide (for God finds us all). Until someday, I can only close my ears when you try to say, “Everything will be okay.”

I hate it when people lie to me.


I love ___, and couldn’t live without ___r smile, ___r touch, and ___r eyes. It is ___ that I see in my dreams, smiling at me (no surprise- ___ always were the gentler one). Someday I will be with ___ again, lover and friend. Until then, I bid ___ adieu.
Always ___rs,
Without ___.

"Without You" or "Something Missing".

One of those.

By the way- not writing this on personal experience.
Just thought I'd put that out there.
I'm not a completely hopeless romantic.
I'm still in denial :D

Tuesday, July 22, 2008


There was a big storm last night, earth-quaking, hands shaking in the absence of someone to hold. The blanket served to cover the cold and muffle the sound and light, eyes closed against the flash of white and ears plugged against the beating drums. I fell asleep when the storm did, sky lightening at the edges as day approached. I dreamt of warm places and comfortable things, familiar faces I couldn’t recall upon wakening.

I hate thunder storms when I'm alone.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Mary/ Candy

I inherited the bag of cotton candy, last in the row and most eager to fill my mouth. I am remembering the taste and smell of childhood dreams, redheads, ice cream, and shiny noisy things. Once again I smell the vendors and greased carnival machines. I smile as the sugar melts, and I am back in the worn chair of the living room. I am thinking of you

They both end in why, as well.

Saturday, July 19, 2008


Ours was/is a notebook paper romance, held close between the lines and under the stars.
We were/are creased and folded in phases, worn with sleep and washing and fire lit places.
I was/am more likely to scribble out mistakes, while yours continue to creep shyly along the page (they are less noticeable that way).
You had/have the most beautiful brown eyes to read my words, stumbling blindly just to be heard.
I was/am not sure of anything- so for now, despite everything, I will fold us up and put it away.
Someday, I will reply.

Sunday, July 13, 2008


I got your graduation invite today-
there was a picture of you inside,
and I learned your middle name.
Some friends of mine
were there at the time,
and though I insisted we were only friends,
I was teased
in the way of joking high school girls.
You do not mean the world
to me,
and I do not put you before God-
I am still sad to see
that your picture is gone.
I suppose I must carry on,
and must do so without appearing anguished
(it is the worst thing to look
when being ambushed
by schoolmates looking for a little fun).
In any case, I've got to run.
Ciao for now, pen pal.

Saturday, July 12, 2008


He is hesitant with words,
gathering them into herds
before picking off a few
(weakest first).
I respond just as carefully,
and this order is fine by me-
without courage,
there is nothing I can do
(without thinking
too much of you).

Friday, July 11, 2008


8 lines, 12 beats per

Black plastic frames, constantly slipping off of my face-
narrowing my world to a clear window of sharp
details, otherwise invisible to my eyes
as they are, unaided. I long for my contacts,
but I must wait (patiently enduring) until the
prescription is in. The only part I enjoy
is watching the small rainbows form in my leanses.
The world is much more endurable with color.


I am no thing,
place or beast.
I am nothing,
in the least
of which I am

Saturday, June 14, 2008


God is in the painted sunrise
He is in the rolling hills
He is on the edge of our minds,
and He’s ever waiting there still.

God has provided for the sparrows,
He dressed the lilies in the field-
so when you’re on the straight and narrow
let him be your sword and shield.

You cannot feel a sorrow
that God cannot lift up;
you can’t thirst for tomorrow
when it’s God that fills your cup.

Next time you hear the warning bell,
don’t blame it on the wind.
If you really want to know God well,
open up and let Him in.

Wrote this on the way back from a party.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008


I try to succeed
To convince myself I don’t need
You anymore-
I am mostly winning,
But from the beginning
It’s been a hard fight.

Thursday, May 29, 2008


It is the sound of morning birds and cars rushing nearby, the sight of dawn just beginning to caress the sky and beautiful stained glass. It is the smell of fresh mown grass and budding flowers. It’s the taste after raining for hours, and the juiciest fruit you haven’t seen for months. It’s the feel of wind in a warm front and cold water from the hose. It is the only thing I know that has kept me going this long- it is always a gift from God.

Monday, May 12, 2008


If I wouldn’t stumble
So over my words
Then I am sure you would understand.

But this hand
Was not made for you, but for me
And it is so far incompatible with the waves of your wake.

Make no mistake, I will continue to try
to make myself comprehensible in your mind,

all things in good time, and
I would love to make myself known.

Sunday, May 11, 2008


It is beneath the rising sun that my mind
empties of everything and simply leaves me behind.
Suddenly I am swimming in sunlit hues,
basking in the glow of red-yellow-blues.
I have almost become
at one with the sun
in this dream,
when someone starts to talk to me.
I am shaken loose of the thought,
and start to walk

Something random. Ohio has beautiful sunrises. Not so much with sunsets, but it evens out.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008


We were talking in my dream, brown eyed girl and I. Suddenly, I realized the change that had occurred. Her eyes weren't brown anymore; they were dark gold, shadowed amber, the color of fresh earth and bare trees. I became ashamed and apologized for my previous judgments. I don't remember what we said after that, but I do remember thinking that the only thing more dazzling than her eyes was her smile.

This is more like a poetry prose crossover baby thing. Or just prose.
I did have this dream, and I did wake up ashamed of myself.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Algebra II

10 lines 9 beats per

I love it when he speaks, consonants
and vowels bent heavy with a thick
accent that colors every word. My
name comes out it technicolor, and
math is suddenly a spectrum of
musical, meaningless sylables.
They say his English is improving,
which translates to me a getting worse-
why fix something like this, when it was
never a problem in the first place?

My math teacher is from the Dominican Republic. I love his accent.


7 lines 10 beats per

It is after another wonderful
weekend, snow and sledding, dangerous drives,
and moveis. Eyes begin to open wide,
slightly shocked and mostly confused (sometimes
panic). In most cases there is a slow
turn the classmate beside them, asking
in carefully hushed tones, "We had homework?"

I wrote this one after that snow emergency weekend. Totally a true story.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008


There is a part of me that hates her;
the way she walks, talks, does her hair,
even the way that her nose is the same size as mine
and she pulls it off so much better.
There is a small part of me, also,
that longs to be her-
rich, privileged, confident and
beautiful in ways that I will never be,
no matter how much plastic surgery-
which I can't imagine ever being able to afford-
I might receive.
There is something alluring in the way
that she knows she is materialistic and
simply doesn't care.
"After about six months in the US," she says,
"I have to leave the country or else
I'll explode of boredom."
I smile and nod, thinking about [never] saying,
"That's why your eyes are so brown."

In case you've never heard it- "You're so full of poo, you're eyes are turning brown."


6 lines, 10 beats per

Sometimes, I start to think I'm the perfect
weight for myself; then she comes into my
room and tries on all my new clothes, saying
loud, "They look better on me," or, "If you
hadn't stretched this one out so much, I could
wear it." The saddest part is that she's right.

I'm sorry- you can't be a completely normal teenage girl unless you feel inadequate at least once.

Thursday, April 10, 2008


Full title- "There is a Tree in her Soul"

if fingertips were tendrils of sunshine seeking leaves or needles, hair soft blowing in the whispery spring-summer breezes- no need for brushes or combs, head of treetop foliage hair canopy can grow long tall alone, free of telephone wires or salons or hair ties- There wouldn't be any unnaturally tall or strangely short trees, only friends of different genus or species sharing the same space climate zone and CO2- so it would be with me and you, no worry over same interests- soil or sand, your favorite band is out of the question here- So, my dear, the question you posed to me of positioning, feet in the air head in the ground, and the direction of growth- I have found that instead I have been wondering (with sincere curiosity)- if you were a tree upside down, what would you see?


If I spoke figuratively
you understood
universal expansion
manifest destiny
manifesting itself
in some way, inside of me-
acqaintance, friend, better friend,
until I am full of you and your face,
counting the days
until I see you next.
The probability
that you probably
is low, I know-
and though your hand
holds mine,
I cannot push away
the voice in my mind
that says, "He
is only temporary."


18 lines, 6 beats per

I'm not sure if he means
to be disrespectful,
but sometimes I just can't
stand it when he opens
his mouth and says something
stupid. I cannot judge,
I am aware of this.
He does make a lovely
sound, whenever he is
in the mood for singing.
Perhaps he will be the
one in heaven, praising
God with that beautiful
voice, and I will be left
on Earth, shaken by grief,
probably crying,
definitely watching
silent and listening.

Sunday, March 23, 2008


There is a girl I know
with eyes like windows to her soul-
she speaks to me of growth,
and I love
to listen.

Someone drew a picture of it for me~<3

Thursday, March 20, 2008


7 lines 7 beats per

"Write me a poem about
love and confusion," she said.
I accepted her request,
understanding inside that
fondness is never without
some sort of bewilderment;
in fact, they go hand in hand.
Who has loved sans confusion?

At least, that's how I see it. If everything just falls in place for you, that's great.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008


Home is not where your heart is or
Where you hang your hat,
For my heart has been divided and
I have no hats
(except for those
I wear in snow).
I would rather have it so that
Home is where I live.
That way, no matter where I move,
My heart is with me too
(and my hats).

Just a cute little thing.

Sunday, March 16, 2008


3 lines 11 beats per

If I had the courage, perhaps I would have
Spoken the words I thought nearly constantly-
“You are my lifeline- without you, I would drown.”

Saturday, March 15, 2008


I am all sharp edges and angles, invisible spines bristling at the thought of human contact- I am your worst nightmare in teenage female form, angry eyes and hostile posture, body language screaming, “Do not come near me!” So back away, all you well meaning but temporarily small brained just trying to be friends- just let me hide away until this cycle ends.

It happens to the best of us... and me.

Friday, March 14, 2008


3 stanzas, 3 lines 7 beats per

She is swirls of scheduled some-
times and wonderful colors.
Distance cannot dilute her.

If there is a show- she has
heard of it, read the reviews,
and grown a strong opinion.

Words are sharper on her tongue.
Nerd buddy, therapist, and
sharer of brainwaves- Meagan

I was supposed to post this March 7th, since that was her birthday, but... I didn't.
But I broke it up into three stanzas because I've known her three years & her birthday is 3-7 hence the 3 lines & 7 syllables per bit.
So clever of me.

Monday, March 10, 2008


6 lines, 9 beats per

I love it when the rooftops are white,
and blend into the stark winter skies.
It is possible to imagine
that in between them, there are no lines,
but only the blank winter canvas
promising to be filled in by Spring.

Sunday, March 9, 2008


It is laying in two feet of snow
that I realize,
whether crystals of ice
or leafy bough
nature already provides
the best beds I know.

So, just got over a level three snow emergency in this part of town. In case you're one of the lucky folks who don't know what a level 3 is, it's when you're not allowed to go out on the roads because it's too dangerous. Only emergency vehicles or cops, hence the fact that you can be arrested if caught driving.
I love sleeping in snow~♥

Thursday, March 6, 2008


I cannot help but hold you close,
and never want to let you go.
Greed, we know, a sin of man,
is also a sin of mine.
I will watch the numbers grow,
smile and think,
“This belongs to me.”

I can't help it- I like money. Which is ironic, considering that I'm poor...

Monday, March 3, 2008


Her eyes are hollow,
darkly shadowed.
I’m looking for scars,
but find none so far
(this is reassuring).
“It’s been a long day,” she says
glancing back at me
before lighting a cigarette.
I shrug, and ask for gum.
It is then when I realize
that the emptiness in her eyes
is swallowing me.
I shake my shoulders,
and brush the feeling away.


She hates pictures, but I love to tease
Following her dodges with the lens-
We are good friends.
She lives next door to me,
And I will walk into her room with ease.
She fakes indignation, and I resignation-
Later, she defends her sharp exterior,
And we laugh together
Over the faceless photographs.

Thursday, February 28, 2008


Love hurts like hot candle wax on your fingertips- burns and stings with real heat, but you try again every time to leave it perfectly whole- separation of finger from waxy shell ends in crumbled pieces as does lover from lover turned friend or enemy, heart wounded but fixable- just put it back into the candle.

It's true, isn't it? I mean, you wouldn't really think of it so simply, but I know I'm right.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008


I am through dreaming of you, sweet brown eyes. Uncertainty and distance may not have been enough to divide, but combined with hard facts makes it hard not to face the truth I have denied for so long. So, so long and farewell, good friend, for that is all you'll ever be to me; I am through with playing pretend.

Therapy for myself, general girly teenage angst of getting over a guy. Yadda yadda.


If I could answer all the whys and hows of love like she can speak words with ink paint and pen, I would let go all the caged birds of my heart and never fall again. But snow this long has kept me whole, and I will try my hardest not to melt- I cannot deny what he never felt.

It makes sense to me, at least.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008


It was a strange dream,
full of oddities
and wild things.
Her ears had eyes;
she sang for him to come closer
and expected him to keep a distance and stay.
She was least expecting his touch,
immediately being hurled backwards then
into his arms again.
He was scolded and kissed-
they ended happily ever after, anyway.


I am always surprised to see her scars,
Thick parallel lines on her back.
Her body is so small in comparison,
And sometimes I feel the urge
To simply let go
and hold her close.
Because no matter how hard she tries,
Her back will never bend
Thick metal rods restricting the flow
Of what I know
To be something more than a still life.

For one of my good friends.

Thursday, February 21, 2008


There is no consolation
for this separation
except that we
were not meant to be.

Or, on the other hand, not fated.


It was contemplating her coffin
(in my dream)
that I thought something
I didn’t think often-
There is nothing
quite like

I bet if you just read the title Coffin, you'd think it'd be depressing.
I relish in shocking people.

Saturday, February 16, 2008


He had to try many times
just to find
my pulse,
squinting at my arm
and concentrating hard
on the tiny needle that
bounced up and down.
There was a whispered comment
beneath his breath,
meant to put me at ease-
“Your heart is so weak,
it would take me seven days
to finally hear a beat.”
I faked a smile,
and took his words
to heart.

I have a mystery illness...


It was after the toilet incident, rinsing out my mouth, that I realized freckles are the sun’s way of saying, “I have been here,” and burst blood vessels look very much like freckles and declarations of love. Sun spots and age, wizened with utmost care. Unfortunately for me, sickness fades and once again I am reduced to twelve specks of darkened brown, mirroring each other on their respective sides (smaller in size-) and merriment, less crowded, seems so far from here.

I always wanted freckles...

Friday, February 15, 2008


13 lines, 10 beats per

It was a cold night, my feet having crept
up to her calves. It was after we had
settled the dispute of iced feet locale
that she added, “Every time I think I’m
falling for someone, I just scratch this scar
on my neck and think- This is what he’ll do
to your heart. It doesn’t work very well,
but the least I can say is that it helps.”
The night shone through her open window shades,
and I promised I’d never be afraid
to give someone the power to break my
heart. It is a few years later, and I
am laying in bed, scratching at my neck.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008


I am no truly fleshed out thought heart still changing in the chill air growing like hair and grass only to be trimmed on certain occasions- pruned like bonsai trees and topiaries, much fonder of the former I like the way they twist and turn as the world does, churn as my stomach when I am away from physical reassurance, head meets chest is the most lovely of ways, loveliest of days when I can see the shooting stars at night pretending that their briefest light will ignite a spark between two human beings and the only thing I am sure of is this- the only way to make this better is-

Tuesday, January 29, 2008


I am through with words,
cumbersome and hard to say,
hard to think of and explain.
So I will speak in common tongues-
body language,
furtive glances,
and other things.
It may be difficult to hear at first,
but I believe
that no meaning
can be truly lost
(even in translation);
With time and practice,
will come easily,
and then we shall be
truly free.


It is home I feel caged,
free when I am away
and timed in every action.
It is the oppressiveness of childhood,
memories like blankets
smothering me, sheets of sunshine
and unforgotten glories.
This is no excuse, I understand,
for the edge in my voice
when you try (civilized) conversation,
But neither is there excuse
for your actions,
however unknowingly struck-
For words are sharp,
and I bleed often in the confine
of the room I once called mine.
So I will try my best to leave
as soon as I see
a window of opportunity,
and you will no object directly-
I’ll be leaving again soon, anyways.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

City/ Amy

She is a saint of cement,
All sharp edges and concrete,
Smooth lines and waves of heat.
Her home was close to mine,
Her heart was next to mine,
Our fingers intertwined
Long ago.
She is still a saint of cement,
Cracked and cold beneath our feet,
Nature pushing up from beneath.
With construction she is smoothing,
Her ruggedness so soothing
To me,
And when the time comes to say goodbye
My saint will not cry

They both end in why
and love~<3

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