Butter

I keep spread thin like butter on toast
melting in crevices and shadows that seep deeper than you wanted
not substantial I won't hold you over
I won't make time stand still for you I wish you wouldn't wish
for more than nothing.
It's your crevices that I want
it is the spreading
thin
that I can't help
the thickness of voice
keeps me floating on the surface
good thing I never put my feet down
you are up to my ankles and I want
deep
and sound sleep and bare feet on rough bark
and braches that bend
and getting lost in boughs
together
but I am too much for
that thickness of your voice
so I'll keep it spread thin
make butterflies crawl
not fly
just flutter
and didn't we want the same thing to begin with?
Oh no. Oh you thought...
I do apologize.

You

I think it's sexy when you say shitdamnmotherfucker and atrocious when he says you look purty
purty is a dirty fucking word and i don't like it one bit
and when you say shit you mean it and when you say fuck you don't trail off at the ck
and when he says purty i want to put on a glove and pick up steel wool and shove it down his throat until it bleeds and is raw and he can't say anything for awhile.
i like when we can talk and smoke a cig and pretend like we are on top of the world
i hate when they ask me questions about the practical parts of my life
it'll work itself out when the time comes, I want to say
you'll never get it I want to scream
i like the way we get lost in love together but not with eachother but we can be lost together
i would never get lost with him, he always knows where he's going
what's the fun in that?
what's the fun in that and why can't they fly away the way we do? let's giggle and climb our rocks
never say purty okay?
instead we will whisper secrets to flowers and I will keep the steel wool under the kitchen sink and he will stay the hell away from us.
they just can't fly away like we do love. it isn't their fault.
there there dear.

My Secret Garden

admit it. unlock your secret garden and loosen the noose that chokes and tightens around the delicate neck.
yes, mine is a delicate neck
and i don't like to admit it
don't want to unlock my garden unkept and grown over
with flowers too wild to be plucked and put on old wooden tables
and I am adorned in weeds that hang green and show secrets
darker than the rich soil they sprung out of
and yes my soil is dark and rich and smells of earth
overgrown but never barren
never barren only too full
and I would never ask you to get your hands dirty
but my soil is dark
and my roses have thorns and I don't like to admit
that my garden, my secrets,
are waiting for a key and for hands that aren't afraid
to get dirty

Cultured

When I say I believe in the Bible you might laugh. That's alright.
But it admits that we live in an unfair world.
Admits that death stings.
Doesn't say that we deserve what we get.
Doesn't ask us to pretend everything is okay.
Everything is not okay.
But you knew that.
We all know that.
That good people do bad things and that some bad things are too much too bear.
Little ones don't deserve to die hungry and cold and without dreams that last beyond
tomorrow.
It isn't karma when a little girl is raped.
She didn't deserve it.
She didn't deserve it.
And we aren't moving toward perfection here.
I haven't met Mr. Perfect yet.
Neither have you if you're honest.
You don't have to hide your left hand, he can't read this.
Pain is a problem.
Death is a reason for mourning.
It isn't the will of a just Creator for us to drown in suffering.
And with all of the shit and the hurt and the wrong,
we can still find beauty here. We don't have to pretend that beauty isn't.
A rose by any other name is still a rose.
Earth was made with pleasure in mind.
Sex is allowed.
Great sex is even better.
Keep context in mind.
Without context we are animals anyway.
Justice here is a poor reflection of what should be.
We are significant.
I am significant.
So are you if you're honest.

Happy New Year!

all I want today is soup. and maybe some turkey and brie and maybe warm socks and if all was well in the world than he wouldn't have lost all that weight and his knees and elbows wouldn't be all sticky outy and he wouldn't have left when he was still so young. but he did and all is not well in the world, and i've been told that he's in a better place and I smile and swallow the fuck you's that climb up my throat and threaten to jump out. so what if it's true. and so what if it's been awhile. all i want today is soup and maybe his bed and the sleep that we drifted into because we weren't thinking about time then. why would we think of time? i'm sure the sky is blue today and for some reason this is the time that feels like a new year. not in january. not when everything is all soggy celebration and muddy sidewalks and hardly hope for better tomorrow. no, no. days when soup and brie and friends are remembered and longed for. days when even the air smells like change, those are the days that make me know there is something new and old and continuous and growing. it is a new year today and not all is right in the world.

Goodbye

we said,
let's not
and then we didn't.
and then we did.
and then we said,
let's not.
and then I thought,
it might be too late.
and it was.
but we said let's not.
and we didn't.
and you kept up your side.
and it looked like I did too.
because you couldn't see me sleep.
and because you couldn't see through my skin.
and it hurt but don't worry.
I also said let's not.
and I was lying and telling the truth that was best.
it was the truth that was best.
because one day I got better
(I was sick with it you know)
and then you said plans had changed
and all I could do was breathe deeply and thank the Doctor for His cure.
For peace in alone. and for a touch that didn't singe the corners of my heart anymore.
it used to do that, did you know?

Another Fall

autumn tasted like hesitant freedom last year
like boundless adventure this year
and my eyes are not swollen and flooded
so I am excited for the blazing reds and
glowing yellows
am excited for crisp cool air
that won't be as hard to swallow
I've got a hold of this freedom thing
this freedom thing
has a hold on me
won't let me go
and I am lost in this freedom thing
a pile of reds and yellows
that have no bottom
no end
and i don't wonder what my end will be
just what color my jacket will be.