I would’ve loved to know

the you I imagined in my head

or any you at all, really

some would watch her drop her book-bag to see if a boy would pick it up for her

and sometimes they bit at the bait

but mostly they walked on by

"I blame the roots for tripping me

and the rocks for scraping me

but I’m the one who falls."

"the glorious fall

peace or simple dilemma

we tangle in life"

"I   h  o  p  e   that you squirm

and I hope that you cringe

If   y  o  u   think of   m  e  ."

"The words that would stray from those thin lips

And the contemplations of that unbeating heart."

"Loneliness rocks like a grandmother

back and forth on a chair

can’t seem to find stillness

in a room all alone

the fireplace crackles

the creaking continues

and on and on"

"The reds speak of the heart she lost

one summer in the evenings

the passion that ran wild like rain

is scarlet splatters on her ceiling"

"No two words ever work the same way, 

so my light side has become a philosopher and poet

so accustomed to twisting and turning and finding new words that mean the same things."

"The shadows ride on my back

hide in my purse

follow me to school

to work

to the coffee shop downtown."

"I sit at my kitchen table.

He painted it white for me last year when I begged him to

I pick at its chipping edges with a cracked fingernail."

"But I've lived in fifteen different countries to fill the void

and none of them are any better."

"I heard the hollow crunch as my forehead hit the bright red table

But somehow didn't feel it.

Oh wait, that's why my vision's blurry."

"There are the few days a year when right after the Catholic mass

I attend with my grandmother

I feel as if I should give forgiveness a chance

and see how it could transform my life

or so the priest says"

"I was afraid.

I watched my mom grow ragged and weary.

Her closet seemed to only contain black those days; her makeup skills seemed lacking.

or maybe she didn't try."

"These days the kids from the schoolyard can't tease me.

They're consumed with their skyscraper typewriter jobs

and whiskey."

"She was blind, naive,

mesmerized by the siren's song

a gravelly male voice that somehow

still could draw her in time and time again

and again."

"sand, love me.

join me

in the smallest corners of my car,

in my washing machine,

remaining

never fully disappearing from my favorite sandals

so shouldn't I remain?"