She keeps her feelings tucked away,
Like her hair, behind her ear, before a kiss,
It sometimes comes undone, but it only makes her more beautiful,
As if such a thing was even possible .
Nothing is more reassuring than her presence,
Nothing more rewarding than her smile,
She smells like the earth after rain,
Ironic, her eyes gleam like lightning in a quiet storm.
She is all that is good in this world,
She soothes your soul with just one word,
Like a cool autumn breeze she relaxes you,
Her hugs, the definition of kindness, the embrace of an angel.
Her raven color hair absorbs all light,
That then shines from her heart,
She lives within your dreams,
Because that’s the only place you’re not alone.

My mom wails that
I’m a mess.
That I need to get my life together.

I’m tempted to grab a mirror,
Put it up against my face
and say:

“Stop yelling at your reflection.
Do you ever think
to decorate this mirror in flowers
or to give it endless kisses
until it kisses you back?”

Loud noises filled with poison
will never love you back.

recently
I got a little older,
learned a lesson or two,
like how loving someone
could never be as poetic
as I wanted it to.
like how nothing
would ever be as poetic
as I wanted it to.
how can I accept
that the miracle of love
isn’t really a miracle at all?
how can I wrap myself
in someone’s arms
when I know
that there isn’t any sort
of poetic loving involved?
how do I unlearn
the romantic thoughts
that taught me
about the fireworks,
the butterflies,
and the fluttering fingers
in the dark.
and accept that
maybe kissing
won’t be as spiritual as I thought.
maybe it’s really just a mouth on mine.
how do I unlearn my innocent heart
who lulled me into a false sense of hope
for a lover who would call
the way my body moves
art.
a lover who would feel
the poetry
in every word
I spoke in the dark.