My Word

One day your girlfriend will wistfully walk the rows of a bookstore, where she will fall upon words— I wrote.

She will remember her past love, and tenderly whisper,
“This is how I felt. How could another, so far away
put into word,  my own heart…?”

But she won’t know, each was your word— stolen, from my heart,
and now—
she is reading us.

What is worse than a woman?

A Star

Did it hurt much,  to love him?

It felt like someone sawed off my five highest points, to fit me
into a circular shape.

What did you feel,  when you finally fit?

I felt dark, as though I’d lost all dreams to shine.

And when you left, did it cause much pain?

It felt like I’d lost all balance— I rolled meaninglessly with no point or edge to stop me.

Then, when you started to heal, did you feel a little stronger?

I realized—I was more than a star…

What were you?

Fires For The Cold

“For poems are not words,
after all,
but fires for the cold,
ropes let down to the lost,
something as necessary
as bread
in the pockets of the hungry.”
— Mary Oliver

The Man Who Stole My Words—Part II

I placed my hand
upon his heart
and felt
each word
slip back through
my touch.

The Girl Who Couldn’t See Skin

She loved him—no one knew why. “He is not of her equal; not of her kind.”

But what no one knew was this: She was partially blind—
She was the girl who couldn’t see skin.

Pretty Little Liar

I was never sad. I lied.
After all, you gave me
all your pride.

The pity party, that you threw
made me fall
in love
with you.

And when you broke my heart,
I realized
the tables must
be turned—

“You have failed…”

… she shouted, triumphantly parading around me
like a pixie-plastic-knockoff barbie doll.
(She, so enthralled by my endeavors—
what a bore !)

Gumball Baby

You charge me 25 cents. You  make  it  so  damn  easy.

Don’t say anything.

Save  me  the  knowledge
[you  cared].

Kiss   me.
Brainless.