Poetry

• I have not even met all of me left
• The ocean understands a part of me I always keep hidden
• I will always escape to nature and never you
• I keep trying to tell you it's been a while since I've been me
• The less I

My head cold waits at my bedroom windowsill 

Tells me: 

‘No, you can’t do your homework. Lie back down and quit thinking so much.’ 

Tells me: 

every twist of inadequacy's blade

(each one worse than the previous)

fell in a rhythmic order, one that your silence

carried in. did you hate me?

you'd never say so. so blindly, i never changed.

In my attic I keep my heart. 
I hold it there, safe amidst pillows, blankets and childhood stuffed animals. 
When I make things, I break off a piece of my heart, 
and sew it into pillows, 

Sit in the cold gray sand. Like a sand crab,

nestle between each grain and wait

for the waves to crash on the shore. Tell me how

the beach is like the sky, a map of tiny things

Remember the old A-shaped house?

The one with the castle downstairs

And the spell around it?

It's empty now.

Did you know that?

There was this book

That I used to read

When I was younger

It talked about all these women

All these women

Who did amazing things

I took a walk
through my neighborhood

just like any other walk,
but I noticed so many things.

The plum blossoms in shades of
white and pink were blooming

in the trees along the sidewalk.

I know you went running

yesterday

and your kids had a great

first day of school

picture, anyway,

I wore overalls too

but everyone will think

I was copying you

won't they didn't they

i toured six different colleges over the past week

& i didn't care about the clubs

Her room smelled of lavender and gardenias

As we lay under silky rays of sun

And danced around the truth in long, snaking sentences,

Words falling over one another until they

Became nothing, only syllables

On the swing I sway

I stay there all day

My thoughts like the clouds

Floating away