Slowing times,
When you realize,
That hearts are breaking
For you. 
And everyday, another.  
Slowing times, 
When selfish acts,
Selfish hands,
make. 

Stomach pains

Stomach pains.  Slowly tearing me up. 
The shadow memory of my esophagus this summer and the fear of death
curls me into a protective ball on hardwood floor.
You're there today, my little sister, to take care of your pains,
to put you up on bed once more, to diagnose,
when my own pains no longer resonate as clearly,
and I want them to fix you. 
But there is the one whose hand I enclosed in mine,
just outside the hospital doors is the one
whose flowers I smelled, lovely and embarrassing. 
So I am here, arm handcuffed to machine,where you all exist,
contained within. 
As I click,
and you do not react.  Digital faces seem so real,
and I forget that I do not mean anything and I am NOTHING,
my own face flickering into oblivion when the power fails. 
My pain is less now that the words soothed and soothe,
but when I remember, the chills, the clenching chest and stomach,
the tears that refused to emerge,
I wonder. 
To put you in shoe box, tied with ribbon,
or to quench you. 
To drown you. 
Because you say I should remember, and learn from it. 
But I say,
last time,
that almost killed me. 

Paper Dolls

When your faces threaten to become one in my mind,
and your lovelies separate to force the difference between,
I cut you out like paper dolls,
and dress you up, matching outfits.
I now see there are limits to
the page.
Or my hand.
And you must become one, or two, but not five, not ten;
if only because it will be easier
to remember
if i can forget
the differences
between.

On streets.

note: an old poem i felt deserved to be edited


I'm not the gray stain on your shirt.
Not the girl that makes you hurt.
Not the one that cannot cry.
I can look straight in your eye.

I'm stronger every day that's born,
Smarter every day that's worn,
Wiser than I was before,
Not a loser, not a bore.
If you can't see that I am me,
That I'm all that I want to be,
I know my skin and know my tears
I know my hopes, my dreams, my fears,

Then maybe you should leave me be,
Turn that stare away from me,
That sees me as I place in seat
Or step, no weary head, on streets,
Your quick stare and jealous smirk
Can no longer make me hurt.

Say your words and I will smile,
I am strong, you're in denial.
Take my hand so you can stand,
And I will never push you down.
I'm all that I want to be--
All I do and all I see
Is everything inside my hand
At my fingertip's command,
Take your hand and I'll caress,
Gently on your soft pink flesh,
Comfort in the form of take,

This confidence is for your sake.