feeling

it’s like the return of something you had no control of
but the desperate desire to make it happen.
it’s your lips and the way i miss them
but know enough to not touch them again.
it’s how painful and personal this is
and how i will share it anyway, catharsis.

how i can look back and dance in this moment
and one day i will be able to turn my head upward
to see the footprints i’ve been walking.
how i realized i’ve fallen
behind and lost sight of the light at the end
but how i’ve stopped to light a fire here or there on my own.
how i’ve been tried and true and loyal
and kept commitments and friendships
when the Devil said let go. how i’ve made it seem
like my own will has kept me going but
i truly owe it all above.

this and more i cannot say,
but only for a lack and overflowing of words.
not a lack of sentiment or cathartic intention,
but a lack of poetic expression to do
emotion justice.

college

there is a playdoh wrapper in my garbage can.
there is a pile of clothes and one ticket from
last night show in my pants in that pile.
i think i lost my key there too.
i’ve worn my contacts for
five days straight because i can’t
find my glasses. i have a box
of cereal, a gnome, and three empty glasses
of sunny-d or water
and a half solved rubies’ cube on my desk.
which about describes the state of my everything.
half solved, half done, half-assed.
it’s my life and the state i’m in,
and i’m tired of hurting when i move
and seeing early morning hours on the clock.
i will breathe a sigh of relief when it’s over…

two months from now.

today

and i don’t know where i’m going from here
there are two loads of laundry waiting on me
and about 30 less than physical
decisions weighing on mind.
i would have cleaned up
if i knew you were coming but
i can’t chart your arrivals anymore.
i am reduced
to one or two step dishes
to keep me from losing weight.
i knew my path and my road
and i never thought i’d walk it alone
but i can’t even see that far now
to check that my feet are hitting the ground.
i have felt the sun and the air
and i have breathed and sneezed today.
but i don’t know where i’m going from here.

ordinary

i see you everywhere in little things.
not because i’m consciously looking
but because my subconscious is a seeker
of potential. and i am witty and clever
and a little pretty (aren’t we all petty?)
but around you i feel underordinary.

you have, a smile and a laugh
that makes me wish i caused them
more than half the time. if i could keep
my tongue in synch with
the way my words are normally worded
and keep knots out of my thoughts
perhaps i could persuade
you to consider something ordinary.

thoughts

someone asked me if i was high the other day,
and i said no without qualms but i didn’t
tell them how that made me feel
or how i felt about it in general.

you’re judgemental enough on your own,
so why give someone like you
something like my thoughts?
you’ve never looked past
superficial for sources for your sneers,
and i don’t think you deserve consideration now.

i may have bruises on my arms,
but you lost your chance to do more
than judge me by my scars.
healing starts, but your eyes
rip open fresh wounds
over and over and i won’t
have all that i’ve worked for undone
by the cynics that rule the glints in your eye.

i’m not admitting that your betrayal
might have been easier last summer,
but i’ve also moved on in more ways than one.

raindrops

i was making friends with a raindrop, and admiring
the way he rolled, slowly and without
a trail of tears streaming down along above him.
and i admired the leisurely
way he dropped, picking his way in addition

and then the windshield wipers washed him away.

i thought i’d lost him, but the memory stayed
in form of mockery; how i’ve
trailed myself along in tears i’ve wept.
i’ve been a fury, blindly dashing downward
without thought for above.

i have tried to befriend
the raindrops but they have labeled me
not their kind as they stroll
silently down the windshield.

thank you

i have pulled parts and pieces
from others and other times
be become what i’ve come
to know as myself. i’ve run
longer than i thought and i’ve
also gone astray, but i’ve also
had help. and this is a thank
you, mainly to my God and my
savior. You can be a tough
ruler but i wouldn’t trade you
for the world. this is second
to my mother and my father
and my brother, because that’s
what family’s for. to my friends
who’ve stood the hours, built
bridges through my valleys
and who’ve lent me hands to
help and coax me along the way.
i’ve felt the handshake of forever
and i’ve told him to wait a while.
i was put here for a purpose
and i’m fine with trying for
another mile. this is a simple
small thank you, the best way
i know how, for keeping me alive.
i would never trade living
away anymore.

clothes

i’m going to wear those shorts you bought me.
not because they’re from you,
but because they look good
and they’re the most damned comfortable
things i own.
i’m not going to limit myself
or be reminded of you.

i did laundry the other day.
once, i would have laughed at my
domestication, your socks intertwined in mine.
i have since cut time in half.
soap and suds
are more symbolic than they are cleansing
(and my detergent is Cool and crisp with intangible charm! already).
each drip that dries is a final
wave goodbye from a sleeve that once
held your arm.

i’ve always been fine with my own shoes;
insecurities floated higher than that, but no more.
it just it took me a minute to remember than i can
savour memories and overlay them
at the same time.

puzzles

i will make puzzles into paintings because i can breathe color,
and endless longing displayed in broken pieces fused with lights.
and i will skim my repertoire, because there are more than one or two songs
i know to play for when you’ve stop asking for words.

i’m quite good at living
having almost died once or twice.
and if i can find the value in a
jagged jigsaw creases, is it too much to ask
for a map of the stars?
i am good a tracing faults
but i aspire to more astral lines.

i am more than a crooked note,
a half strung song spoken into the dark.
this spotlight was never meant for a soloist.
i’m still catching pieces, if you catch my drift,
but someday you can sing along.

honest, i swear.

sometimes, all i can give is honesty.
i’ve only taken it away two
or three times, and the effects
are stronger than i can bear.

i never want to offer anything but the truth.
nobody said it was easy,
and i didn’t expect them to-
or it to be.

i didn’t know what to give and
when and what to hold back.
i guess one day i’ll learn.

can you teach me?
am i teachable?
can this be taught?

i guess we’ll all find out.
i’ve always thought there was more
to tired faces and lying eyes
than whatever is spoken,
with or without words.

i could shrug my shoulders
and move on, but then again,
at least i’m at least honest with myself.