Tag: spilt ink

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You are the
Kermit the Frog doll
I used to carry
under my arm.
The one
I’d never go anywhere without–
the one that smells like
my grandmother’s perfume and blooming
Michigan summers.

You are
my favorite pair of shoes–
the ones
that have my footprints
molded into the soles, and
creases where they bend at
the toes.

You are
the way my pillowcase smells
a week after I wash it–
a cocktail of
dryer sheets and shampoo.

You are hot tea,
a warm blanket, and
a book
while watching the
snow fall.

You are binge watching
my favorite episodes of
Friends in sweatpants
after a long day
at work.

You are every poem
in every piece of my heart,
the home button
on my GPS.

Summer Morning Symphony

sleepy skies and morning dew
play pianissimo, slowly
crescendoing as the
sun strains
to peek through
my window.
a quarter rest– just to stretch–
and the percussion of
socks smacking
wood.

a high C,
sung softly in vibrato
to the twin toddlers
sleeping
three doors down.
xylophone keys
falling
into
the toilet bowl.
quiet, frantic
glissando down
the stairs.
the
smash of the cymbals slamming
shut.
the final note,
the delicate
click of the key.
the applause.

Nectar

When she wilted on the wooden

floor and allowed herself the blows,
I couldn’t see the love

was gone, but I knew
I couldn’t save her.
When I found myself
cornered in the eyes of her

hurricanes, helpless
to the venom she spit,
I didn’t realize I needed to
save myself.

Biotechnology

I am swimming in a sea
of crippling uncertainty,
and it is my life’s greatest fear
that paralyzed, I’ll drown in here.
I’m struggling to stay afloat
while anxious tears constrict my throat.
Afraid there’s nothing I can do,
a merciless god I’m praying to.

No matter how I push and kick,
the sea ignores me and
I sink.

It’s that much easier for you to suffocate me now that your hands aren’t in mine.

because if i’m not holding your hands then they’re around my neck, and every time you smile without me hurts a little bit

Impossible Equation

in physics class
i learned
the further you fall,
the harder the landing:
F=ma.

i fell
for you at
90 miles per hour
without a parachute.

if the force of your lips
saying you do not love me
is like a thousand hammers
pounding at my heart,
what is the mass of
the empty shell
that remains?