My Childhood Came To A Screeching Teeth Grinding Stop One Day

outside my window the

night spreads like a

virus infecting space with

shadow; smothering the solitary

citadels, the white flags, the bells;

stretching on and on it

erodes all color, all shiny things,

turning them gritty and dull with

void; night cannot last forever yet

even now i suffer the well in my heart

drying up, my eyes only seeing the

flowers on my skin by inadequate starlight.

i found myself ripping out my eyelashes

blowing them off my finger

wishing that you would find yourself falling in love with me

hoping that star that i pray to every night

would take pity on me

granting my wishes true

And one day may I lay in an endless landscape of wildflowers

Let my stomach be full and my hair unruly

The sun beating down in true mid morning light

The birds sing a song not of this world

I want to bathe every ounce of a life that was never mine away in the stream a mile north

Icy cold water

Babbling over rocks

Washing away someone’s mother’s screaming

Erasing his sweaty handprints from her body

Let my face be stained with blood red fruit

Sitting underneath the cherry tree

Gorging myself with the very definition of contentment

My cheeks touched by the sun

There is a pleasant sort of exhaustion I will feel

When my basket carries freshly picked fruit

My arms sore from the trees I had scaled

To pick better fruit and gaze at what lies in the field of beauty

It’s 7

The sun is going down

Fireflies take over the land

crickets are chirping a symphony

It’s the kind of spring that you believe might last forever

My window is open

The trees sing their hollow lullaby

I’m asleep in minutes

I wake up to find myself drenched in sweat, the window is closed.

there are no birds.

I must be dreaming.

i told you i loved the night we spent together

i wish i could have captured the grin you wore

so proud of the terrible things you did to me

how i love that smile

the same lips that grazed my skin not long ago

the same hands that caressed my body

the same hair that I tugged on as i made a show of your acts

it was only an act

all of the good things came to an end

the heavy breathing started

my lungs were collapsing

my heart forgot to beat

it was too busy aching to love you

wishing to be more than just a body

will you turn my brittle body into poetry

when the cold kiss of death finally reaches my solitary corpse

will you interpret the path i skipped along

writing brilliant words of how my spirit dances in the wind

or will i be forgotten?

just to become a feast for the life that lives under the surface

scribbled lines in the once lively flesh

it was never pen ink that cherished me so

if my name has not been lost

and you happen to graze upon my initials in a history book

run to my tombstone

letting it be known that it wasn’t all for nothing

recite to my grave lovely words

soothing my wandering soul

remove my past from the chain around my ankle

let my image seep into the setting sun

allow all that is left of me to be the stanzas of a lifetime

an exhibit of beautiful words bleeding from a lifeless body

permit the future to forget the configuration of my skeletal being

but to devote their time to decipher the words you have strung together to recall my existence

please oh please let me be poetry

- sundayafternoonsedentary

well, that's one way to test how you feel about someone:

drive them away and see if it hurts.

if it feels like your heart is imploding,

maybe you really did love them.

but then - my heart has a habit of tricking me,

of conspiring with my sense of lust

knowing I won't spot the difference for a while.

but are they so different, really? am I really that blind?

it was easier to sleep amidst clouds of smoke

that carried any potential dreams far away.

if I dream now, what will I see?

I don't think I want to know...

not yet.

I keep my eyes open and listen

to the soft rain tapping on my window

reminding me the world hasn't stopped at all, really.

It’s been 2426 days since I dragged my childhood bedroom across the pavement

Almost 7 years since my love for my mother spilled from my suitcase onto the driveway

i still feel as if I could waltz into that house

Now belonging to strangers

Sit on my pink fluffy bed

And remember her screams

As if they were happening presently

The house is now home to an elderly couple

I wonder if they can feel the ghost of my younger self

Etched into the bannister

Youthful laughter in the backyard

I don’t know what part of me was left in that house

But if feels like not a day has passed since that crisp April morning

When my mother decided that I was not the daughter she had wanted

how beautiful is it to be lonely

whenever the air you breathe has only been touched by your lungs

the emptiness in the echo behind your screams

thoughts to be sorted in the cavern of your cranium

how beautiful is it to be by yourself

I should’ve jumped when the ball-point pen across the room started scribbling

scratching the surface of a worn down notepad

hovering over it, I saw my name

in bolded letters I read the word ALONE

how dare a mystery writer reach into my soul

ripping out my deepest feeling

addressing it like you would the day’s weather

I would’ve complained, if there were anyone to hear me speak

the invisible critic marked another word

AFRAID

my hand connected with the paper as an arrow pointed to my destroyed nail beds

I guess the analysis wasn’t wrong as I drew back my shaky hands

make me a goddess

shaped out of pure divinity

mold my features so that they appear to kiss the setting sun

search my soul with eyes full of lust, love and wondering

so sweetly set me on your pedestal

displaying my celestial substance for all of the mortal beings to gaze upon