I’ve perfected crying in ways

Others can’t see

From the anger that demands to be seen

But is brushed to the side

Waddayou want to eat tonight?

Anything is fine

Guess it’s over

Even though 

Your hand was right on the wound

I felt the grooves of your palm

Beat with my chest like a cheap record 

I felt you rip it open

I felt it bleed and burn

And I watched as it was minimized

Snuffed out

Harshly pieced with a tourniquet 

War time desperation

Enough to stop the bleeding 

And get back to camp

For a silent supper

The mirror rests on the wall

Nestled between paintings of sad clowns and lilacs.

It’s foggy and there’s a scratch,

Sticker residue in the corner, and cracks.

The wooden frame has lost its varnish

It really needs to be touched up

We Look deep into each others eyes anyway

Waging silent wars of self

My hands grip the smooth faded wood as we

Plead for mercy at the hands of each other

Are we not the same?

Do we not blink in unison?

I still believe that

Light dances off broken mirrors

Shining through its cracks even brighter

So I wage no war with reflection

I raise my white flag and when I glance,

It’s love that bounces back.

For light can dance on anything in the universe yet it chooses to shine on my face.

Your voice is color

And when you speak

Words in watercolor

Escape your lips

Splotching your shades and hues

Perfect pastels

on my blank canvas.

The impressionistic piece

left behind

Is up to me to interpret

And i will

Despite your intention

So when I dip the brush

And prepare to paint

I try to paint intentionally

To Speak in brushstrokes

That blend

And avoid hard lines

And encourage our special spectrum

And our watercolor words

That are too beautiful

Not to frame forever.

You flow by me like a river

And I am lost in the current

Trapped in the ebb and flow

Dancing the back and forth dance

I take your shape-

An amateur impression of you

And I like it that way

You give me life just by exerting your natural rhythm

And I dance along following your lead

Floating in your timid turbulence I can’t tell

Are you the water? The current?

Well, yes Dear, but you are also the basin

You are essential

You are momentum

you are life and chaos and change and possibility

In liquid form

Holding me gently

As I tread water trusting in your truth

That even if I were to drown in you

As I succumbed to the depths

You’d carry me gently downstream until I returned home

My mother used to sing to me

My favorite things

I would drift, imagining raindrops bouncing off roses

And the soft whiskers of a kitten

But after the roses dried

After kitten whiskers gave way to dog bites and bee stings

I’ve come to sing to myself

And in doing so, I get a sense of deja vu

The feeling

That I’ve been all my favorite things

I’ve been a bird

I’ve been a dragon

I’ve been a flower

I’ve been a dog, also a bee

I’ve been a present

I’ve been a raindrop

I’ve been a song

I’ve been a tree

I’ve even been the moon

I’ve been all of my favorite things

And I’ve been love

I’m only just now remembering.

It’s funny, I could have sworn

I was just there.

We had a second chance

At the garden of Eden

The do over to end all do overs

This time it was me In gods garden

Her many flowers in bloom

I run the backs of my fingers across the cool fragile floral tapestry

An array of petals each holding

Maybe it’s own universe

And it’s likely, considering how vibrant they are and how they make me want to cry.

I spot a single purple flower

That reminds me of the one thing I have here

It’s too pretty not to pick

After all, Who cares if we fall again

It was kinda fun wasn’t it?

God knows better than anyone.

She winks as I save the flower

For you.

I read a poem today

It used big words

With Lots of letters

Probably Latin or Greek in origin

Real spelling bee type words.

It made me laugh.

I really liked it.

It was good.

I wish I knew how to say more.

How to be more descriptive

like mom told me to be

“Vanilla ice cream is boring”

“Tell me more” but I couldn’t.

I like the poem though

I wish I knew

How to say that without it

I may not be the same

And that one day I would

Write my own

And they would

have big words and be good too.

I was inside a lot lately.

I started cleaning.

I got in the nooks and crannies

Some real “on all fours scrubbing elbow grease make your mama proud” style cleaning

The kind of cleaning you do when companies coming over

The kind you have to do right because you don’t wanna have to do it over again

The kind that you can be proud of

The kind that shows that I care

About me

So I got down on my hands and knees

Dusted and mopped until I knew

That though this dusty house has almost fell many times

it’s mine dammit and I’m proud of it and it’s clean.

The crows cry

They know I’m stumbling through

Looking for truths that are

sitting right in front of me

They find it funny actually

Because they’ve known for an eternity.

The caw of the crow will echo before the fall

It cuts sharp as the beak that

tears through the dinner carcass

It caws because it knows

And that’s all.

We’ll laugh, heartily

As they beg for forgiveness

At the chapped hands of the ones they oppressed.

The generations of sheep

That their Wolf in Wall Street suits

Lured into the Infested digestive tract of

their beast that eats us whole- 3 square meals right on schedule.

So we’ll laugh when we’re at their door

And they can feel their flesh for the first time

As they realize their mountains of money

Provide No insulation

Don’t worry buddy

We’ll bury you on the moon with as many big bills as you want

We don’t need them- they’ll die with you

As we love on and move on

We’ll not only laugh but we’ll forget you

That’s the cost of flying while forcing the rest of us

To crawl