Lost in the Void of Normalcy

you’d rather i be 

m e dICATED

and normal, simple, dead 
in my eyes
(you want them to be void
of sparkle and hope, grace, compassion)

you think it’d be easier
if i never felt the things rising to the surface
bubbling and causing the sweet upward curl
of my lips.

you wish i was flat, emotionless, broken
you choke me on those pills
tell me it’s helping me to be NORMAL
but all it does is bring the 
numbness back and force me 
under the perpetual shade of
darkness behind my eyelids.

i’ll never be normal enough for you.

Line Breaks

I’m caught
in these lines,
stanzas, versus,
lyrics
because they
remind me how
broken, lonely
in love
I am.

I read
them so often
it almost
hurts
they always
tell me who
I am
or was
long ago.

Even now
my words have
the ability
to
break someone’s
heart on contact
to show
love and
hate – red.

They overtake
my memories of
a happier
time
and make
them seem less
important than
the times
of sadness.

I wish
I could find
my way
out
of this
labyrinth of dark
words and
unhappy moments
in life.

Nonsense

This isn’t technically a poem, but it’s close to it.

It was a simple task on record, but off it was easily the hardest thing she could ever hope to accomplish.  

In his arms, things were safe, warm, delicate but on the outside of his embrace she was finding life hard to cope with.  On the outside there were no gentle kisses to her lips, cheek and forehead to reassure her of her safety.  There was no strong arms to hold her up from hitting rock bottom.  And there was certainly no peaceful slumber.

She could argue that he didn’t understand what he did to her.  She could almost be certain that he didn’t know of the delicate emotions that erupted with every twitch of his fingers and every flutter of his eyelashes against her cheek.  And, of course, she knew without a doubt that he didn’t know about the sensations she felt when he pressed his bare flesh against hers, or nuzzled her neck.

In fact, she wasn’t even quite sure herself.  The only word previously used to describe these intense emotions was “butterflies”.  The word seemed so broad now.  The butterflies referred to a feeling in your chest or stomach, not a feeling that washed over your skin in waves, making you feel warm, safe and wanted.

Outside of his arms was where she currently resided, head resting on her knees, eyes staring sideways at the blue wall in her darkened room.  One hour being both the exact amount of time he had been gone and the exact amount of time she slept the previous evening (or morning, but who’s counting).  

She was tired, her mind ceased making sense and she still tingled from the whisper of his touch (strong arms previously wrapped around her).  Her body ached to both be with him and to drift off into a peaceful slumber, where her memories of those few beautiful (however, fleeting) moments they shared earlier in the day would be on repeat (and not drenched in blue around the edges).

Alas, neither ache would subside as neither want would come true.

Peace was written on the walls, on her sheets, on her blanket, on her clothes, but never in her mind.  Slumber was painted where it was able to be seen, but not to be acted out.  Love was at the fore front of her mind, body still holding sweet whispers of caresses.  

Dear Mr. Sandman,
the slumber never calms
the waking beast
changing their heart
to let someone in

but perhaps, it’s misery.

Sleep Now, My Princess

laying back
eyes closed
d r i f t i n g away 
against your chest
your heartb  e  a  t
lures me d ee p e r
into a land of dreams
and happy memories
that only e x i s t when
you’re holding me
and telling me “sleep now my
p  r  i  n  c  e  s  s
in that sweet calm voice while
you run your fingers through my
hair and kiss my forehead
and in my dreams
these moments
never end.

Snow Angels

A flurry of southern snow and on Christmas no less
Seen from a lit window, the first snow flakes during
the famous gift exchange

“It’s snowing!” An excited exclamation 
and to the window two sets of feet traveled quickly
the room was full of awe and wonder
coats were drawn, 
scarves flung around throats haphazardly

And the snow angels danced, spinning with the crystals
of white and purity and the world feels cleansed

You say, “lay down, I’ll show you something beautiful”
I oblige, and you take the snowy ground next to me,
lace your fingers between mine…
and we make snow angel lovers

You tell me, “I want to make these with you forever”
and I tell you, “that’s how long we’ll wait for another miracle.”

in wonderland

With this red thread she can’t hold on anymore
there’s this wall between them
a wall of pain that they’ll either get over
or break heartstrings trying.

you can’t reach me anymore
is what she says when she falls into
WONDERLAND
through a small hole 
the size of her fist
and strategically placed
in her back yard.

He searches because he’s sorry
that she’ll never be able to sleep again
without the sound of his voice
whispering sweet “I love you’s”
and begging her to calm down.

She falls because she doesn’t know
the way back up
or that going back up is even and option.

She knows she’s not Alice,
but the promise of never hurting again
seemed far too good to pass up.

He’s not the white rabbit
but he’s late for a very important date
and he knows he’s too late to reach her.

All he remembers are her last words
the only thing that can carry him home.

Bubbles

Floating in mid-air, round, simple, clear
we’re caught in a bubble, a small little circle
of love, life, and all the simple things
you’re my world and you don’t know it.

It’s so easy to fall in love with you
you’re patient, sweet, full of :heart:
and I miss you when we go into those
two separate ways, headlights facing apart.

I can’t begin to describe how hard it is
to stretch a bubble without breaking 
the heart.

identity poem


 i think in lyrics
    they fall from my lips like rain.
    i think in waves of light, color, love.
    i am what, who, where i am.
    i am a rainbow, spectrum of light.
    i bend, the lighter side of him.
    perhaps, but the darker your shadow
    the closer you get to the light.
    i am vibrant
    making my own light because i am farther.
    i wish i were darker so i could be close
    to the warmth.
    alas, i am but vibrancy.

& all my poetry is about you.

The Night the Stars Fell

TW: sexual assault, child abuse

We’re moving and it’s dark and warm
I feel safe, but only until we stop
the fear sets in and I
c
a
n
’t
scream because of the tape
and I can’t
r
u
n
because…

The trunk opens 
and light pours into my
safe darkness
and I’m not safe
or alone…
anymore.

I squint, blinded by the bright lights
and I can’t see his face, but I know
it’s a question they’ll ask later
at the hospital.

They’ll also ask what he did to me
where he touched me
if he hurt me
at least…
that’s what happens on TV.

On TV they always catch the bad guy.

His hands are on me and
I’m scared, I don’t want him to touch me
but everything is going so fast
his arms hold me as I struggle
and he tells me “it’ll be quick”
because he only “likes ‘em live the first time”
I feel sick.

He takes me in a house
it’s dirty and dust is everywhere
it smells like old books and rotting wood
there’s one mattress
and I know that’s where 
I
’m

g
o
i
n
g.

Still fast.  He throws me down, tells me
“struggle all you want, I’m stronger than you”
and I know it’s true because he’s on top of me
a bundle of free, flailing limbs and he pins me.

His teeth are yellow and his
breath smells like coffee and alcohol
he tells me “I like ’em young”
I don’t respond, still flailing.

He’s wearing glasses and his cheeks are red
and his eyes are black as coal, his nose has a wart
and he got Star too, but she didn’t make it because…
he likes younger girls better.

Star is a year older and
when he asked us our ages he seemed like
such a nice man.

He gave us balloons and told us we were
p  pp  p
r  rr  r
e  ee  e
t  tt  t
t  tt  t
y  yy  y
and every little girl wants to be pretty
just. like. mommy.

He made me watch when he touched her
up her skirt, over her legs
he told me not to look away
because it made him hot to know I was watching
I couldn’t stop crying when she screamed
he was hurting her by…

His lips are all over my body and it burns
the hatred in me and I…I can’t stop screaming
he’s touching me and using fingers and whispering
“You’re my good girl, you’re my good girl”
I’m sick.  I’m sick.

He wont stop touching me 
and he tells me “this’ll hurt a little”
and he tells me “I like it when you scream”
and he tells me “you’re so pretty”
and he tells me “a perfect little angel”
and he tells me “so innocent”
and I’m not anymore
I’m not and I…
I
I’m
not and….
I can’t stop screaming
because it hurts
and I’m not old enough
and

He tells me “I only like ’em live the first time”.

& it kills me every time

So tired.  I can’t even function, think straight.  But…but…I’ll be up all night in tears again.  You don’t know what you do to me.

Nothing makes sense, nothing makes sense anymore.  It’s not right when you’re gone.  It just isn’t.  I stay up and I try not to call you.  I try to wait until you call me, but I’m so addicted to your voice that it’s so hard for me to even imagine being without it.

You.  You on the other hand.  You don’t feel anything do you?  You don’t understand why I’d need you so much.  Or how much it hurts to only be permitted to need you for one day a week.

It gets harder every time.  Especially when that phone rings and I know you have to disappear.  

It kills me.  It kills me when you hang up, sigh and stare at me with those big brown eyes.  And I know.  I just know where it’s going.

And you get up and you leave, tell me you have to and if it were my choice.  You can’t make promises anymore.  And I can’t take the broken hearts.  Littered with the knowledge of paper, the title of “pure” and the quantity of “six”.

You kill me.  And you don’t even know it.