People remember me, but I do not remember them
I do not remember the things I said or did
But they do
Some look at me with questioning eyes and I wonder if they know
I want to ask and apologize for what damage I caused
I feel terrible for what I cannot remember
It took me three weeks to remember an old friend
I didn’t even remember Rachel, who was very hurt
When they mention what I did,
I feel frozen
I cannot move
I cannot speak
I fear saying the wrong thing
All I want to do is apologize
I want to be forgiven

A boy in my class
He looks at me then looks away
He knows who I was
But I do not know him

It kills me how they know who I was
Yet I cannot even remember myself
But, when I do remember, it comes like a flood
I remember parts of who I was and I feel like vomiting
I was vile and bitter at the world, though rightfully so
I was sick, so very sick
For it was not me who walked the halls of Providence
But a zombie
A stranger that I refuse to name
I want to bury it deep and forget
And for awhile I did
But they will not let me forget

I am not the same person I was three years ago
I am kind
I am beautiful
I have changed, but they do not know
They remember my past and are conflicted
But I will show them
I will put their minds at ease

My daddy says he loves me
And I believe him
He keeps me level and holds me down
And in return I give him everything
Not just my body but my all
I give him the thoughts that keep me up at night
I give him my baggage and he helps me carry the weight
We work in tandem
For him, the world
For me, his heart
His heart is more precious than any sum of money
But,
He does not understand my sadness

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

a hybrid soul,
one to blend like watercolour
paintworks into the social canvas,
boys would stare,
at the star, gone dying, who knew
spotlights illuminate
the pretty parts,
the hips and the mannequin calves.
until the sun dimmers, like gods
dipped lantern burnt out,
and bodies are stripped like birds
of their feathers, plucked to glaring
scars and worn out faces peer
into the mirror - who is the ugliest
of them all.

they called her by names,
prettier than her own,
until she trembled into the
valley of the dolls, a dark and dismal
place with discarded arms and legs,
to build the perfect 'woman' -
a vulnerable creature, made to
be loved, to be wanted.

my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be.*" - Wuthering Heights.

beauty, is in love's eyes,
i once read that if he still makes your heart
anchor itself to your abdomen,
after three months, it's love.

well, my metaphors are wasted on you,
my words are a fancy way of
expressing myself and they contain
too much of you.

you've got a temper,
enough to rumble under these streets,
and collapse what i've been building.

i get sick of building blocks,
love is child's play, and i just want
us to be adults.

i promised to love you, and i do in
my own odd ways,
you broke my heart, i broke yours.
i still want you to know,
a mosaic wouldn't be so beautiful,
without all the cracks.