the stone was no barrier

her soul couldn’t break

the tangled yearning of her heart burst free

and swooped from the windows lip

to caress the clouds in the ever width of blue

and twine about the thatch’s peak

a faux yellow to her gold

and she smiled at the ones who claimed

she had never tasted freedom before

(a witch in her own right)

i find her tender / lipstick smudged / making the illison of a soft smile / on her face / and she asks / looking out at the sea of faces / so familiar that it hurts / “will this all matter tomorrow?” / will the pounds she lost to date him / will the friends she shed / the clothes she wore / matter at all / and i lie / because i have been wondering the same thing / “yes, of course……it has to.”

it has taken me a long time to realize / that i owe it to no one / to have to a read a book / when i don’t like the words / and that applies to people too

i keep a glow stick underneath my pillow. on the darkest nights i break it just to remind myself that broken things are still beautiful.

my last mug of tea

it was late \ and the clock in the foyer hall \ had just chimed \ and i felt the melody \ pass through my body \ and \ i set the mug down / on my writing desk / seeing a few droplets splatter my hand / as i danced / all alone in the am / feeling all the loss / and grief that was living in my body / for a moment feel better / but then the music stopped / or maybe i stopped hearing it / and i sat back down / with my lukewarm / tea / containing too much honey / and i finished my math problems.