Archive by Author

in absentia – A Poem

13 Jan

I cut my hair shorter than

you’ve known and

cleaned the sheets we

shared and washed the skin we

had settled in as to

protect myself from any

lingering feelings I might have for

you; the ones hiding under my

bed that I couldn’t sweep into a

pile, waiting outside my

door at the end of every

night little postcards pushed under

my door and stuffed in

between pages of the

dog-eared library books.

I’ve cleared the glasses and

emptied the trash, retraced our

steps and replicated our

dance moves until the

floor leveled out again, paced where

your movements interlapped with

mine and rebuilt myself in

your absence emptying the

parts of you that have clung to

me like your hands on my

hips, the taste of

you still traced on my

lips.

holding my hands as to

fill the space from yours and

breaking the bones we

shared to build

my own.

comfort – A Poem

31 Dec

we settled for your

hand-me-down car and

we settled for the

diner because it was the

only place that kept

misfits busy at one in the

morning, but we did not

settle for each other; our

bodies aligning like an

eclipse, blocking out

everything that’s never mattered, the

electricity flowing through the

radio into our veins, closing my eyes and

compiling the lines in my head to

create your face.

we settled for the clock on your

dashboard but never

settled for the hours and

minutes to tell us to go

home.

we didn’t settle for one kiss but

traded one for one hundred, each

existing in the flickering lights over

my town. our confessions fogged the

windows and you pulled me in to

push me away until I was the

best contradiction at two in the

morning; everything and

nothing, existing in both your

spaces and your whole, filling and

emptying all that I was to

become who I thought I’d never

be; the girl with moonlight in her

hair who got the boy with

sunrise in his

eyes and diamonds behind his

lips.

we settled for late night dates and

tips that we paid for by standing for

hours on our toes and we

settled into each other’s skin and we

settled into each other’s hearts, where

we’ll stay for a little longer.

Burnt – A Poem

30 Dec

When a fire burns,

the wood cracks,

the charcoal crumbles,

and fall’s leaves combust under the heat.

For a fire to sustain, it must burn,

destroying what made it flourish.

 

When you said we were a flame,

you didn’t realize that your love was our destruction,

burning holes into the people we were.

Destroying ourselves for a love

that turned us to ash.

The Boy Who Fell – A Poem

30 Dec

Was your flight too dissimilar from Icarus’,

As you watched your wings burn a hole through themselves?

Did you feel your wings break from beneath you,

And your body crumble as you became another tragedy?

Was your epic story at its end, or its beginning,

As your body crashed into the ground?

Did you hear your father shout

As his voice bellowed between the cliffs

asking you to come home, asking you to cease your assent

or you might fall like Icarus, he laughed.

Did your steady hands,

the ones grasped rocks and climbed further into the heavens,

betray you when they could no longer support  your reckless life?

Your toned muscles tearing from beneath you,

the golden voice that chanted war-cries in your car,

losing its velvety essence as the words escape your mouth.

Your ruggedness mixed with your sweet southern accent,

your innocence mixed with your faulted corruption;

you were a contradiction moving swiftly,

climb higher to only fall further;

falling away from your responsibilities and father’s warnings .

Did you live to climb, only to die in reverse,

Falling away from the peak,

Grasping for the tangible,

And coming up with nothing but emptiness?

When it ended did you smile,

Taking your place next to Icarus,

In the waves of the abyss?

How can we ever learn your plight,

Mere mortals with our tragic flaws,

Until we take the fall ourselves?

Until we watch everything that we were,

Burn up into another hole in the sky,

fall as Icarus did; slowly and then suddenly,

and become tragic tales for our children to repeat.

college – a poem

14 Dec

nights filled with

drunken stupor and

illegal hand holding with the

boy you told yourself you

couldn’t have feelings for because

well,

you are created of

things that compose the stars and

he is the reflection of

the sun on the moon, needing

the light of another to

prosper and grow into

a human being, with

lips that you long to

kiss in between classes and

before the sun rises, a sun that

hits your face on the way to

lectures about technology while you

think about your phone and if

he ever had the thought to text you back and

classes composed of faces, each searching for something

they know they cannot have; things

that were left behind by names in a textbook who

also one day yearned to be more than a name to someone, more

than a face etched in the side of the moon, a face

with more faults than the earth but you kiss it anyway because

it is your only defense against the things that hide

in the darkness; the things you fear you have

already lost wars with but you kiss it anyway because

you cannot afford to live in fear of

things that hide in the

spaces between his fingers, the things that

are strong enough to hold the galaxies but you

settle for the stars in the eyes of those

in front of you because

a night with one dim star is better than

every night with a black sky so you

settle for the things that you can hold and

never know the things you

can’t hold things like

love.

Self-Portrait – A Poem

8 Dec

sometimes I rearrange mental furniture at

3 in the morning; tearing books off of

shelves placing chairs in strange positions, and forget to

write letters to distant relatives and

wish happy birthdays to friends, but

that doesn’t stop me from

dancing in front of mirrors as if

they were placed in studio halls and

fighting as if

bruises didn’t last for seven days and

running doesn’t cause my surgery laden knees to ache but

sometimes I think I’ll reach somewhere

beyond where the trees break and

where the sky and the ground meet, where

the blue Charles River mixes with

the pink finger-painted sky if

I don’t stop, so

I don’t.

sometimes I have thoughtless nights staring

at the white dots that form my ceiling and

sometimes I have too many thoughts at night that

I can see whirling around my head until

they tire me into the submission of sleep, but

that doesn’t mean I don’t dream about

the things I can’t see but want anyway, things like

love and being remembered for being more than

a compilation of cells, more than skin and bones that

ache at the end of the night.

sometimes I play dated music at obscure hours, shelved in

battered packages and faded cardboard collections, echoes of

people who no longer remain in bodies but lie

between the scratches of the records passed down from

my mother and father, more

pieces of the people they used to be, given to

me as a last effort to remember their own

ill-fated rebellious adolescence.

sometimes I fall in love with a feeling and

fall out of love with reason but

that doesn’t mean that I’m wrong.

sometimes I find myself in the words that

I write and sometimes that’s

all I need

to be.

Youth – A Poem

3 Dec

It was either our childhoods we were burning

or the wooden planes we sent into the air;

there was no middle ground.

Those were the days where there was no moderation

the glass was too full or too empty

and we would never know until it spilled into our laps.

When we drenched our smiles with the tears of disappointing our fathers,

our innocence dripping into a puddle on the floor.

When we collected the sun in a glass jar,

and opened it on a rainy day underneath the thunderstruck blankets.

When smiles were sold with ice cream,

melting as the sun advanced in the sky,

pushing towards the corners.

When the darkness was illuminated by our star-stuck dreams,

when we feared monsters when they weren’t under our beds or at our doors.

We hid behind trees and wide smiles,

we hid in the pockets of the solar system,

believing only the light of the sun could find us,

when it peaked beyond the mountains of our imaginations.

We fought without reason,

cried without cuts or bruises,

cried harder with cuts and bruises,

and stayed awake as an act of defiance.

 

We always dreamed of something beyond castles and make-believe houses.

We dreamed of our first kiss, moving out, a life beyond our four walls.

We wished and hoped for the time to pass,

for the days to grow longer like the hairs that swept the grass when we swung upside down.

We dreamt we would grow up,

And when we closed our eyes we always did.