January 8, 2017
Swing down with a cold-hearted hand of the wood
As you watch little of our meekest desires
And we hold on to even less of our intrinsical selves.
Walk past, shoulder brush, electric sky
Did we ever see that it has been replaced?
Did we ever look up to protect what is ours?
September 15, 2016
I am Three.
Split in half by the separation of my parents, I was broken.
In the lavish world in which my father resided, I was a pretty puppet.
Dresses of tulle and red-soled heels I could not remember names of tried to befriend me, the hollow fragrance of a thousand...
August 7, 2016
Is not a wound
that needs healing.
Sadness is the stitches
that tie you back together:
when the needle pierces your skin,
to make you whole again.
August 6, 2016
I know it does.
But if you ask me where the pain
is coming from, I'll say I have no idea.
And I will be spekaing the truth.
You see, I don't remember a time when
I'd wake up every morning unafraid.
I don't remember a day when
I wouldn't try to laugh the pain away.
April 7, 2016
I don't have a father.
He is not dead.
He is very well alive. I have his number, his address, and I can talk to him at any moment.
He did not completely abandon my family and disappear.
I met him. I visit him
But when I think of the word "father," I don't thi...
February 19, 2016
Yes, you, beautiful soul that reaches for the stars with a twinkle in your eyes and doesn't settle for less than your dreams.
You, the hurt and beaten but unbroken spirit,
That refuses to fall.
The winds may blow, the world may shake, the skies th...