Crumble

She was Michelangelo’s David.
She was my Venus de Milo.
She was my goddess, the centerpiece to my world.
Her back tall, arms strong, eyes sure,
the words that spilled from
her lips were the vertical control that moved
my wooden arms, my painted lips.
They were truth.
But rains came.
Winds blew.
Snow froze and cracked
my stone goddess
until one day, I touched her and
all she was was gone.

Dark

It devours me
from the inside out; pulling
me under the surface, and I’m
too tired to resist.
It’s weight comforts me
like a blanket and lulls me into
a sleep I wish to never wake from.

Black Lodge

Words
toss and turn
in my mind, sleeplessly
trying to realize the truth of what
we were. There is distortion

in the movie
that plays on repeat in my head.
Sometimes the actors change
the script slightly, and
like a game of telephone, the verity is
gone.There may be no truth
remaining in my reality. I
turn and toss
in my bed, hoping to reveal what
we were. Hoping that
the script was based on
a true story, that this was
not a mindless twisted obsession. That
the waves within me which I have
worked so hard to kill were real
in the first place. That
I loved you, once.

Don’t Look Back

You’re the only one who can pass me by and make me look back.

12.31.2012

I’m sitting here trying
not to think of
you,
but my mind always lets you
s
l
i
p

in through the cracks when it

wanders.

The Monster

the squeak of my shoes
the tap of my pencil against the page
even the sound of my breath:
in-out in-out in-out,
eat-less eat-less eat-less.

Ventriloquist

I let you tear me open
down the middle and climb inside.
And like a fetus
you settled in
the pit of my stomach; you rearranged my
organs. You twisted my heart.
And every time I cried,
I let you take my
tears and make them yours.
I let you
scream for me.
You’d stick
your hand in my back and
dress me up in frills,
carrying me in your
purse in case someone you knew walked by,
so you could show them how well
you ventriloquize.

Fallen Angel

I did not know you,
yet I cry for you
often because I feel as if I do now.
I feel your pain and loneliness.
I, too, see the appeal of the rush
of the cars in the streets
from the 15^th story window and
dream of the throbbing bite of the blade
that promises a way out.
I know your burden; I carry it,
too.
I feel you close; I think
of you often.
I cry because
I understand your purpose: to make people see,
to make them feel,
to try to make them understand.
And I’m sorry because you are right.
Sometimes it takes
a fallen angel
to look past our own suffering.

Five Senses

There are bustling cities
in your kaleidoscope eyes,
and I’ve been waiting for an adventure.
Let me explore them.

There are stories etched
into your porcelain skin,
and I’ve been yearning to get lost in one.
Let me read them.

There are words wedged
between your peanut butter lips
that I’ve been dying to hear you say.
Let me taste them.

The future is flowing
through the lines on your hands,
and I’ve always been superstitious.
Let me feel them.

There are fires burning
in your minefield mind,
and I’ve always loved the heat.
Let me smell the smoke.

Forget Me Knot

I’m being dragged along on a string
you have long forgotten
you tied.

Now you’ve tied him
on another one,
and I’m bleeding
from being pulled so far.

Please
reel me in,
or cut me loose.