She's hidden, cowering in the corner,

as she waits, mouth open,

words frozen on her lips.

She does not speak.

I mold my sadness into poetry and she watches me,

amber eyes taking in everything and nothing.

Spring, my dearest, where are you?

I've been waiting for so long, yet still I'm caught in Winter's grasp, and I'm ready for something new

No school today,

For the first time since December

It's been five months,

Almost half a year,

Yet the snow falls,

We ripped March off the calendar

Yet the snow falls,

The snow melted in February,

First came the ballgowns and the beheadings.

Six wives of Henry the eighth, and divorce or death were brought upon all but one...

If love was a garden, I’d let it grow wild

Because what use is love that’s tamed?

There, the honeybees would be the messengers, passing letters of sweet nothings from the sun to the flower’s soft buds

From the moment I first saw you, 

I knew I would love you.

You had a warm, comforting aura. 

Your sweet vanilla scent perfectly matched your character.

You may stand up on a pedestal and teach people about life if that makes you whole.

Perhaps it will make another whole to listen

You can be wise and filled with deception all the same.

In the wrestling match, my knees buckled, 
A staccato burst of defeat, 
Feeling out of control, angry, a cacophony. 
But then, ukulele strings under my fingers, 
Offered a universe I commanded, 

Bright

Too bright

Too much light

For the first moments of awakening

The thump thump thump of my heart

Only disturbed by my alarm

I hit snooze, yet again

The wood is lush and dappled with light, 

the first April flowers poking out of the ground, snow

melting under my bare feet. 

The ache of you digs into my chest like a sharpened blade,

when she sang, she sang a rhapsody

tender words that arced across the room on golden strings

like her un-brushed curls that flew in the wind

from the open window behind her.

Carefree Honeybee, 

Don’t you see the hope you’ve given me?

I’ve climbed up and up and up but the end seems never closer, and I’m reaching reaching reaching for a dream that’s never there.