walking along the dampened grass,
thinking of the moments
your hands,
so warm and compassionate
wrapped so tight
into mine
the way they would freeze.

I walked along the park
years later
arguments later
lonely nights
instant delights
later,
and I almost cried.
it was as though
the memories
painted themselves
again before my eyes
like a movie clip.
lights dancing in the sky
the sunset falling and shining
in our eyes
the camera clicks
from the pictures
we saved
of our smiles and first dates.
the actions
of our attractions
and first sparks of love
blooming from the children's
swingset where we'd hold hands
until the end.

three years,
we have a fight
of the memories
we want to make one night.
the back and forth
like the swingset so greatly missed
the fight leaving us broken
words unspoken
mistakes I've made
swallowing the pills
closing my eyes
yet opening the
shadows and shades
of midnight blue.

the anger and rage
in your tone of voice
so subtle and soft
but struck my heart with guilt.
and so I write these words
in my moments of weakness
wishing I could just go back
to the park
with its freshly cut grass
even if it made me sneeze
warm sunshine and gentle breeze,
instead of
this garden of withered leaves.

as a growing woman I wonder,
why do I feel the validation of those
closest means something?
Why is it that on that chilling Monday afternoon,
Where the presence of autumn
creeps ever so subtly,
I feel like I am in the rings
of Dante’s inferno?
Something so simple,
The screams of the monsters
in this house
Give me such anger
Such violence
A heart pulsating
Through my little black
blouse.
From the blossom of something
So sweet
So delicious
The perfect treat
There’s a rotten core
growing every time
You yelled
You swore.
It’s the kind of feeling
That freezes your blood
Stiffens your spine
I can hardly stand
Being here longer than
Welcomed.
I’m shaking
Not from the cold
But you yet again breaking
My faith in you.
You are not my hero
Nor my savior
God as my witness
I’m through with your
behavior.
So beyond the boundary
I can hardly speak
For the words I’ll say
Will really give you a reason
To look that way.
Cast me out
Like a fishing line
Gasping for breath
I bet it’d be easier for you
Than to waste your precious time
Yelling at the imperfect shrew
That you think I am.
I’ll just never be there for ya
And you’ll have your perfect little picture
Through the out-of-focus
Hardly noticed
camera.

You talk of the future,
One of picketed fence dreams
With little ones running
Giggling
To olden days
Wooden rocking chairs
And paired glasses
of dentures.

And yet, you refuse to grow up.

You listen to the spills
Of a woman,
Mentally further
In her years
Pour her heart
Mop up her insecurities
Dripping with love

And yet, such trivial matters are the topic of discussion.

Wake up,
You arrogant, pretentious
Peter Pan.
Can you simply
Smell the roses
Of responsibility
Drink from fountains
Of dignity,
Feel the air of change
Brushing through coiled,
Unkempt hair locks?

And yet, you still ignore all the signs.

Break the
Looking glass
Where you fall into
A sense of dependency
Stand tall
Like trees packed with
Experience.
Wisdom.
The answers lie
Deep in
The core of all
Curiosities:
Research.

And yet, you remain still, shocked that such words could slip through my tongue.

And yet you find me ******
And yet you find me childish over
Petty
Playful
Concealed matters to shield you from the
Dragon’s breath
For you dear Pan,
Would be smoldered in its flames.

And yet, you feel like Neverland’s missing member,
So painfully
Ripped
From your true home.
Cursed
To live out your days
As an adult.
Pulled away from the
Warm blanket
That mommy
And daddy so carefully
Have woven for you
To remain in.

Poor, poor Peter Pan,
The alarm clock
Has been ringing
For some time.

And yet, there no longer holds a “snooze” button.

I dream of freedom,
surrounded by
fresh air
and romance.
A place unlike any other,
one where the evils
of this world:
stress
worry
financial ruin
is but a memory
washed away.

I long for nights
not plagued by
dreams of failure,
ones that seem so real
I question if I'd ever wake up.

I crave the will to breathe
without wonder of what
I need to sacrifice to
simply
survive
next week.

I wish to remain a grown woman,
with the responsibility,
care-free, yet
stability of a
young child.
I wish to soar among the clouds
without worry
of smashing
amongst the pavement.

this,
however
is my conflict.
I can almost
touch the wisps
of the sky,
yet here I remain
on the ground.
the gravity,
slowly pulling me further
from them.
so big,
pure white,
as though drained
of darkness
and negativity.

please,
if nothing more,
let me hold on just a moment
longer
so that I may join them.

summer breeze,
the way she once looked me
with delight and tease
only grows
as the wind does,
come and go as you please.
the gentle wind
it flows through me
like memories
of our chats together.
something about her,
as though some power
held over me...
she makes me feel better.
a penny for her thoughts
a mile for touch
that summer breeze worth chasing
for I enjoy the rush.

blissful meadow,
a calming shadow,
my inner happiness.
your words like flowers
the river flowing upstream
for when life feels numb
surrounded by a sheet of darkness.

I walk through your fields
as you feel my presence,
the combination shocking
the result an essence
no true emotion can yield
to.
the kinds of things
you and I have been through
it's astonishing
that we're still present here:
introverts
in our over-sized hoodies
in a small-minded
extroverted world
instead of floating out
into the vast
atmosphere.

tell me,
what is it about the
unknown that leaves
my mind unsatisfied?

If the camellia
only blooms in the
bitter frost,

why must others wilt?
when the rain lands on
the little girl’s raincoat,
why does it form droplets?

when she sits in class,
alabaster skin with the face
of a doll
why
can I not
read
her?

Softly she speaks
with confidence
and poise.
her words trap me
in a prism:
a confined cage
of intoxication
and mysticism

She’s stuck
in the modern times
trapped in the 60s.

Help me,
all I ask
is to seek answers
about the ambiguity
of her
as she extends far beyond the field
of vision,
to no longer remain
a mystery.

In the town where I was born,
lived a man surrounded by
sea.
This wondrous swirl of
reds painted along his face.

Of all the rooms in a vast
hallway of strange young
boys and girls,
he stood
alone.

A man in multi-colored plaid,
who brought wonder to my eyes
and a universe of words
arranged into something
simply
Beautiful.

Days,
weeks,
months have
passed and never did
my fascination waver.
I felt that for once,
for just a moment,
I belonged.

Open up my mind,
reveal the window
of my inner thoughts.
Like the orchid in early spring
I have bloomed.
The petals of my life
spill on to the pages of my work
until my writings are done.
When the day is done,
and the sun has fallen
into the horizon,
I await for the moment
to present something to be
proud of
to that same man in
multi-colored
plaid.

softly I sleep
mentally insane
criminally inhumane, yet all at peace
all at once
this moonlit dance
comes to a slowing still.

the koi fish swirls round the painted moon
as I find myself trapped in a trance
a puppet's synchronous dance
where dreams come alive
and just for once everything seems alright
like things haven't gone to ****
and I feel stuck in the mattress of my bed.

soft, this pillow brushes my skin
red velvet hair tousled against the sheets
it's as though I am sinking into a space between
bed and floor
earth and mind
leaving all things behind and for an instant
just a simple moment of weakness,
I want to stay.

the room grows cold
I fight for warmth
but I take it's embrace
like a child's hand to walk across
the streets of where I once was
years before things changed.
It's unforgiving and yet
and yet I like it that way.

I like the otherworldly experience
the delusion, the single moment where
I slip
it's the moment where my mind and body are at peace
at temporary release
from the poison inside I feel I constantly
defeat.

Blood in my veins
Driving me insane
With the **** that you say
About how I'm to behave.
Good daughter you'll be
Never be free,
Peace? Tranquility?
Say goodbye to all that
It's not a necessity.
I start to see how that girl
In that wallpaper
So yellow so confining
Ground breaking
Earth shaking
Name defining
Died clinically inhumane.
I want to tear away
At the minty green
Of these walls that kept me from him
Each day
Escape to the land of dreams
A secret mental hideaway.
The ocean breeze
mellow trees
Hypnotic winds comforting me.
Until then the ropes they bind
Tighter and tighter
Until they find
Me
Lost in my mental confinement.

sweet girl, little b*
pick your poison, **** the switch,
a little recklessness can be fun.
it starts out slow
sweet, you know?
cute little smiles,
giggles and sugar
rushes
rosy blushes
8th-grade crushes.
underneath the crystal moon
after a day of fawns and swoons
she slips into a crippling slumber.
cuddles tight,
blankets, teddies, adorable sight,
unaware of what's to come.

just then, the blight
of frightful disease
one that brings all
to her knees
the little b we
feared awakens with ease.
her eyes glow bright
with lust and delight,
ready to wreak havoc
her heart grows blacker
than midnight's hour
grabbing her knives to soon
devour
the ones she once felt were her attacker.

poor little b
mind surely flipped the switch
she wants to **** over everything
and simply ditch
the voices of reason
they're all sounding
like treason
rather be flirting and sexting than just teasing.
she's ready for action
law of attraction
the power of the stare
and what lies
downstairs.
power to start wars
end a revolution
with the right perfume
a taste to consume
it's the perfect execution.

nightfall breaks
the sun also rises
no Hemingway **** though, I'm not gonna take
another man's enterprises.
the light tickles her face,
warmth
loving embrace
sweet little girl regains her strength
you see it on her face.
knee-high socks tiptoe
to the washroom
brush with grace.
her day goes on as she slides down the steps
while the little b* lies caged
swinging from strings
secretly kept.

it is true what they say,
in the moments of weakness
there is someone,
something
about them that
makes the world's time
cease to exist.
you may not want to exist
for them
and yet
their happiness
the slightest smile
upon their warm face
means the world to you.
just to be in their presence
keeps you tethered
to the present.
such a feeling must be chosen
wisely,
with discretion
because such a bond
is almost motherly.
it is protective
it is kind,
with no room for toxicity
darkness
and distrust.
when you look into their eyes
you want to be everything for them
and nothing all at once.
their mark is branded
into your heart with content.
there is no pain
as the stained heart signs
its name of your newfound
connection.
why you may ask?
it is the sound of their
laughter,
the way they look
at you
with unbridled affection.

in the middle of the night,
where the moon plays
a game of tag with the daylight
I lie in bed thinking of how much I hate how I appear to you.
sweet,
subtle,
submissive and slow
as the gentle kisses once delivered to you.
it pains me to think that
midnight blues
turn into shades of charcoal gray
when I think of your impression of me.
it is asymmetrical,
a puzzle piece that does not fit
to think that the words
so simple
so basic slip past your
peach colored lips,
"you cannot do ****."
misconstrued, I know
given in an improper way
but it wrestles within me
like demons
kept in their cages another day.
my capabilities are limited
to things humane
but am I that useless
to the point
that I am poison
to your veins?
do I make you angry?
do I make you weep?
are the demons in you
injecting their rage
into your skin with every word
that I am to say?
should I react,
or perhaps
I am to behave
like the little girl I once was...
scared,
cold
fear of what to say
disapproval so close to the corner
that any word slipped through my mouth
felt like an eternal mistake.

perhaps I shouldn't feel this way,
when the sun falls into the horizon
and the day is dark,
the clock shifts into another day
feeling so close together,
yet far apart.

maybe when the gentle creatures
rest their paws in the earth,
it should be as simple
as a simple farewell
where we kiss goodbye,
waving our hands.

is it wrong,
to feel so empty,
to be crystallized
in the chilled air, I feel
when we have to say goodbye?
it is only for a moment,
a simple few hours in the day.
I'd even rest my head
the little moon child in bed
and yet I cannot bring myself
to feel content
that the moments,
laughter,
the exchange of sweet words
spent
accounted for
and blown away.

our moments are that of the dandelion,
so pure
so fascinating
as I caress the wisps of your hair
in the fields once more,
only to have you stolen away
by the single brush of wind
that nature brings.

my love feels like a mirror,
glossy and pristine,
a pure reflection,
extension of myself
until I no longer see me.

I don't understand,
why it is breaking me
to see a little farewell,
a goodnight's kiss
be a funeral of the day.  
my hands shaking,
my heart sinks
to an ether
between love and hate
where parting ways
even for a night,
feels like a grave mistake.