Why I no longer lie or change:

I loved a strong man
he made me feel weak
He choked my songs
my voice ceased to sing
I loved a hero
but he zapped my strengths
Took my strong words
broke them beneath his feet
My words for him were love
his were hate
all my insecurities
he said he was trying to push away
until the day
he decided I had changed too much
Because I had changed too much
Changed by every word he said
He decided to break his promise
forget the ring I wore
And take another girl to bed.


There are no good memories of you:

I hate that I can remember being loved by you
The look in your eyes the first time we slept together
it was a January morning you wore a green sweater
I remember how you said our names all mixed together
I don’t know when we changed
but your oh ****, your ending phrase
your truth turned lie
blew back over everything
I have no good memories left of you
they are all tainted by hatred and pain
now I hate the way you said my name
how it was not as safe on your lips as I believed
And I hate what you had made of me
by the end
I hate what we could have been.
I do not hate that we are not
I am glad that you are gone
I only wish that you had thought
to leave my heart alone.


Your bookshelf was too small:

Though your suggestions were good, though you read every classic, though you knew every (over-spoken) line, you knew too narrow a scope. Though I agree that very little remains unspoken after the classic works. Your shelf of scarcely over seven books, and the fact I never saw you read one, should have conveyed to me a point of disaster that I somehow did not see coming. I have drunk in the words of others since I was a child. I have dived in bargain bins and raided library discards for one more book to read. You could have afforded a library beyond what I could have imagined, and your greatest concerns would have been what people thought of the books you kept and if their spines all matched. I have read almost every book on my shelves. I think they number in the hundreds and I have read so many more besides. And you, you disdained new work. Your pretentiousness and pseudo-intellectual paths fooled even me, until I believed that maybe you, with your little shelf, could offer me something I had not yet discovered. I think you thought so too. But my honest thoughts on you loving a writer are that you, with your little shelf and your boxes and your preconceived notions of what people should be, had no way of knowing how to love someone as open as a writer; someone who can turn their whims with the setting of the sun, who can live in worlds you have never seen and longs only to share them. You with your little boxes and your little shelf never deserved my mind or my stories in your life. I am glad my books never found homes on your shelves.

Cancer didn't make me Cry:
I have not cried
Except when I think of leaving you
When I look at all the wonderful
Perfect moments that life has been
All strung together like a melody
The only true crime I could think of
That heaven could raise against us
Though heaven could commit not crime
But if life were to
Then it would be asking me to leave you now
I could no more die
In this moment than I could stop loving you
Than I could have stopped from loving you in the first
The reality is
That all the melodies bleed together
Into one simple symphony
One short desperate sonnet
And that is the necessity of loving you


Changes:
I know he loved my ringlets
Their lengths wrapping around him
Like the sheets we tangle around us
But now he calls me his little flapper
His hands wrapping in the short strands
The ones he knows will fall away
I know he loved my ethic
The way I worked everyday to be perfect
But now when I can do nothing to stay thin
He tells me to eat so I can get better
I know he loved the carefree
The way he didn't have to worry about me
But still he stays beside me
And something about that
Makes me think he loves me

I woke up this morning still covered in watercolors,
but I wish it was your sent
not paint which covered my skin.
as the colors splash across the page
washed and faded
I can't forget your vibrancy
with out you so far
everything is watercolor
suggested hues
waiting on a dry brush
to fill them in
and make them glow
yes there is still beauty in the brush strokes
still the eb and flow and nuance
but the moments that shine the brightest
are with you
I need you
you are acrylics to my watercolors

looking back
the stars have been there all along
they watched over as I cried
and they hurled themselves down
until they were burned up
by the atmosphere
and they almost stopped falling
before  I chose to open my eyes
to open up the atmosphere
and let the bright lights
start a fire

Talking to you,
it’s like drawing breath
like waking up to soft sunlight
and stretching out
feeling for what’s familiar
but different
for what's changed
while I was sleeping
the danger of waking up
is that suddenly
I depend on the sun
even though its been there all the time
its the realization
that its vital
that it warms my limbs
as they stretch hesitantly
into the new morning air
the danger of opening my eyes
is that suddenly i am vulnerable
no longer in sleep-safe dreams  
where all can be experienced
without feeling pain
but with open eyes
I take the risk
I put my heart out
and suddenly nothing’s certain
and I feel like a child
begging the day not to break me
hoping that the dream exist
that you’ll keep feeling the same
even now that I’m awake.

you sleep in darkness my dear,
but don’t you hear my voice
its begging you to open up
to push away the lies
its begging you to feel for me
to throw the shutters wide
and just take the chance
and free fall once
cause you’re drowning in your fear
and as the waves crash over you
don’t you feel the sun draw near
its falling on your face
through the window
clear and bright
but you’ve lived so long in the dark
it seems to burn your eyes
but cant you feel it in your veins?
the way your blood heats up?
its telling you there is beauty here
to open your eyes back up
please open them back up.
I know some of this was my fault
and when you do you won’t be blinded
though maybe still afraid
but you wont regret the choice
to step out into the day
you wont regret the choice
to again look my way

I've got whole worlds shaking
a rush of feeling
moving the plates of the planets in my mind
if worlds really exists in there
their denizens are dying
by the thousands
my brain is scrambled and askew
I can't tell truths
I've forbidden lies
I’m left with omissions that rend my insides