Any Other Fool Wouldn't Be You

Lunch time
During eight grade

And we sat
Face to face
Lunch trays between us

It was then that I realized
I hated the way you laughed

The high pitched squeal
Too loud
Too long.

Twelve years later
I still feel the same

But I understand now
Soul Mates
Do it this way
Reaching over
And under
In spite of
And because

Always
Laughing back

Regardless

I love you

My 4 a.m. Poem

Silence

3:54 a.m
--the fingers
As if by their own
Language
Stumble
Over keypad
Finding
Fumbling
Making sense
Out of the
Tightening of chest
And tears escaping
when least expected

It seems as if everything
Makes me weep
These days

And
I am beginning to understand
Why the sun
Needs night.
What it is
To be so bright
So much
For so many

I smile
Half habit
I’ve forgotten
What it was like
To feel so happy
You could fly
Make we outgrow
Wings the same way
We do teeth,
Skin,
Lies.

I know I’m a different woman
Than I was last night
And I cannot
Convince you
Any different
But there’s this fear
Whispering, insisting that:
If I keep changing
I will return
To what I once was
And what good is there in that?

Circles. Cycles.
Is it because I am woman
Or because I am stubborn?

Synonymous
At this time of night
when
The fingers
Love this cool feel
Of letters
Sliding beneath
Fingerprints

Words
Have become my life

And it is okay
It is finally okay
To have only that

The words
That hurt
That laugh
Bleed
Burst
Live
Thrive
Pound
Cut
Screw
Fuck
Need
And
Need
And
Need

3:59a.m..

So much
For this so called
Silence.

Lover,

green eyes
and i still wish
they were mine.

a simple note
to remind you

distance
does nothing
for this stubborn
heart of mine.

little moon
and i
sing songs
borrowed
from angry skies
burning stars
solemn suns

little moon
and i
dance
on toes
crushed
by rolling hills

arms
run down
and stiff

too many
embraces
too many
i love you's

little moon
and i

who cares
who we are
when
we are
this perfect?

Starting Point.

Fate set up this year very interestingly.
she's decided that i am to begin again (like it or not) and i suppose i am all for that ride.
(re)creation has always been a pass time of mine and so this time around
let us hope that the new me is the closest version to the true me.

if not,
it will be one hell of a story some day.

so...welcome. anyone.
my words have found a new home
and have left the windows and doors open.
(visitors wanted)