Better

Sometimes I wonder where we might be.

If our paths never crossed.

If I never met you,

and you never met me. 

If such hidden worlds existed, 

they’d feel like a strangers Christmas. 

Peering from outside a window,

into a home where I once belonged. 

How could I bear to look

when it hurts to even wonder?

Where both fear and hope collide. 

Hidden world or not.

I’m still the familiar stranger,

peering inside another window

of someone else’s home. 

Sometimes I wonder where you might be.

If our paths never crossed.

And you never met me.

Sabbath

On days like this one,

when the noise finally wins.

On days like this one,

Before the day even begins.

I leave the world alone

and the world leaves me.

There’s no greater home

than knowing where not to be.

Blankets of war,

muffle the chaos and violence,

carrying my warmth from the night before,

where I swaddle myself in silence. 

Without flurry or fuss,

like a caterpillar in their cocoon,

the world goes on without us,

and not a moment too soon.

When I’m ready, when it’s time,

I’ll emerge and regroup.

But for now, how wonderfully sublime,

to be nothing, but soup. 

Golden Birthday

Back when nobody knew,

except you and me.

While my face was still new,

and all the possibilities that could be. 

A crowded room waited patiently,

my name smelling so sweet.

A searing silence burned in me

by twelve golden candles on a sheet.

Waiting to catch a secret, in a room I could never tell. 

“Blow them out!” you sharply said,

while knowing full well,

that my wish, was already dead.

Over the flickering of a flame,

where gold still drips and melts,

I released a quiet claim, 

“I wish I was someone else.”

Dissipating ribbons of smoke sealed a secret,

the aroma of time and my name too,

all taken with it. 

I was someone else already. 

Back when nobody knew,

except you and me.

Landslide

What do you do when your chest feels heavy?

When boulders live inside your bones and breast?

What do you do when your legs turn to jelly?

Besides spreading them on toast and canning the rest.

How do you know when the time has come, 

after darkness arrives at your door?

When the rhythm of the clock sounds like a drum,

but still you want a little bit more. 

Where do you go when your body feels forsaken?

When a crumbling mountain resides in your chest? 

How do you freeze the time not yet taken,

while resuming all the rest? 

I know that forever was never the deal,

but forever hasn’t come yet,

forever isn’t here. 

When the Songbirds Sing

As the sky cracked open

it demanded to be heard,

a message sent across the ocean

by a mechanical glowing bird.

It didn’t sing to rise the sun,

but sang all the same

and burned like one.

So many sickly songbirds 

screeching across the sky,

but the true horror begins

after their melodies die.

With painful precision, 

and as robotic as it can be,

a songbird gram

delivered by both you, and me

I wasn’t there when the songbirds came, 

littering the skies and land,

but I saw them all the same, 

made of the very materials of the device in my hand. 

Scarlet Pact

Let them come, 

let them gather,

Let them congregate in masses

or not at all. 

With metal in their mouths

Let them bear witness my own liberation.

I rescind this blood oath.

I can absorb no more. 

Like a sopping scarlet sponge 

clinging to the darkness,

she’s dripping with despair. 

Let us be wrung dry. 

For tonight, I am the moon,

and the moon is me.

Whisperings

It happens during fall and winter, 

when you can smell change in the air.

When the leaves on the trees are either dying or budding, 

and before the dazzle of dusk.

While the earth slumbers below 

A ballet of starlings stir the fiery skies above. 

You can only miss it if you try.

Movements so fluid that

you can hear the ocean. 

You’ll swear that you’re underwater,

and hold your breath just incase. 

How else can birds be swimming in the sky? 

Not even scientists know exactly. Maybe for warmth or to guard against predators…

But something that moves like that

doesn’t need any protection. 

It only needs your presence.

Because change is coming, 

change is already here. 

Little Valentine

I always assumed that I struggled around this time of year due to seasonal depression, but with this winter being one of the warmest, I can put that to bed. 

It’s not lost on me what day it is today. I always assumed I hated Valentine’s Day for not having a significant other. Having no desire to be in a relationship, I can put that to rest too.

Up until recently, I thought the heaviness might have to do with when I admitted myself to the hospital around that same day. I never would’ve made that connection without seeing those court documents. Almost like a scanned document was telling me what my body already knew. I believe now more than ever that the body does remember even when the mind doesn’t. 

It feels particularly chilling to me that I don’t remember the events of that particular day, but remember all the other horrific days, weeks, months, and years. What more did he do to me that my little mind couldn’t take? Knowing there was a version of me experiencing two very different worlds on any given day is heartbreaking, but knowing I wasn’t even spared on Valentine’s Day feels particularly devastating.