The morning bleeds hues of
Vibrant violet and rose
Over a peaceful world.
Feathers fluttering, leaves whispering
About the day to come.
The sun, like eyes opening for
The first time, shines like
Jewels lying in the creek bed.
Godless night washed away
With watercolor wildflowers.
Without such beauty,
The alarm clock chirping
Would surely be my enemy.

Me plus you,
Minus compassion,
Multiplied by tension,
Divided by a figurative wall.

The equation
Doesn't add up,
Throwing off my
Equilibrium.

Without showing
The work on this,
How am I to
Find the solution?

I don't think you truly get it.
Your anger seeps from your body
Like poisonous fumes,
Polluting the air around us.
Nuclear fuse sparked by
Minor inconvenience,
With the carelessness of
Politicians when it comes to the
Lives at stake from your meltdown.
Anger; the heat that doesn't physically
Burn, but you can feel that fire
In the knots in your stomach.
Anger; the (sometimes) silent fighter.
Fists met with doors, walls, structures
All designed to crumble, just like you have.
Anger; you are quick to embrace her,
Like a lost lover, she'll bring chaos.
Maybe you miss the wilderness.
You could roam and growl as you so pleased,
But you have been caged for too long.
I don't think you truly get it,
How frightening you have become.

My birth control is making
Me crazy again.
Breakdown, rage, comfort,
Repeat. Repeat.

Like clockwork,
I have to remind myself that
"I'm no monster", "it's the hormone",
"I swear I still crave you".

My love for you is
A radiant bloom, being
Suppressed and bullied by the
Bushes bearing thorns.

My hatred for you is
The shell of the bird that
Traps the life inside, leading
It to claw it's way out to breathe.

Wait for me to emerge,
My shell is holding me back
As a safety protocol.
I have not been born yet.

"Ha, I thought you might"

You think about me.
You remember things about me.

Acknowledgement by someone
who's godly.

My heart playing some sick trick on my brain,
("Ha, I thought you might")

April Fools.

Foot tap,
              tap,
                  tapping;
pencil chewed down to the core.
Focus, it will come.