taking up space

what words are there to say

when you are 31 years old

and you don’t know how to

take up space?

(when

you don't think you

deserve

to take up space?)

when you spent

so many years

learning how to be

someone else?

believe something

else.

say something

else.

wear something

else.

do something

else.

don’t do anything at all.

become small.

learning how to

stay silent

or face

the consequences

when the consequence

is losing your

identity?

it’s

so much more

than

toeing the line

when your every action

is weighed

and weighed and weighed

and still

disappointment

is the outcome.

What words are there to say

when you are 31 years old

and you don’t know who you are?

when you don’t know how to be,

or what you want,

or what you can do?

what words are there

to say

when your personality

is subverted.

when your identity

is subverted.

What words are there to say

when you are a fucking

adult

and you still feel like

a child?

and you still feel like it’s

your fault?

and you can’t claim your

anger,

because you are afraid

of the fallout?

What words are there to say?

I am enough.

I am worthy of love.

I am creative

and kind

and compassionate

and good

and I have given

and given

and given

until there is nothing left of me

to give

and i think it’s time

to start

taking

up

space.

Blossom

I have been

A chrysalis

For so long

Striving towards

Freedom

And solid form

I have been

Encased in

Doubt

For so long

Not sure of the

Strength

Of my limbs

Resisting the urge to

Reach out

And pulling back

once i have

Second guessing all my choices

I have been trapped by

Expectations

Hesitations

I have been hiding here

Quiet

Beneath all

The

Perceptions

Of my self

I have been a chrysalis

So long

Isn’t it time

At last

To emerge?

A beautiful explosion

Of expression

After the

Struggle

And dissolution

Of youth?

And the pain of

Actualization

Paralyzes

And yet

And yet

i am not a bright color

but still

i burn vibrant

I am not a loud voice

But still

i resound

Beneath my skin

Entangled in my thoughts

You will find

Whole worlds waiting

As i have been waiting

As a chrysalis

For so long

Letters to No One

1.
Did you know
nostalgia
is my favorite emotion?

I used to think
Something was wrong

Fundamentally

That there was some broken part
In my head
That some clockwork
Part
Was misaligned

It took me
17 years
To figure out
How much
More
My differences
Make me

I can see
So many things
Lost in the colors that others
Let go

Sadness is
My muse and friend
It doesn’t wound but
It bouys

Blues and greys

And in the end
Always
You.

2.
And you have made me want
To believe in soulmates
And I don’t even believe in
The soul.

3.
You asked me once if i wanted to kiss you,
When we were children.
I didn’t trust you.
I don’t.
Trust you.
I wish I had kissed you -
thrown all of my cards in -
when I had
the chance

4.
I used to know your
phone number
by heart.

I made myself forget.

It took years.

5.
But why must it always be code
And why must we always deny?
I realize at last what i want isn’t
Touch
Just the taste
Of your elegant mind.

I know we’ve had darkness
And heartache
And there’s blame for the both of us,
But I still remember that night,

I wore red and black
And you came in late
With your camera to hide behind,

Or was that really all a lie?

6.
I never erase things
anymore
they are always locked away
somewhere
were i can find
them

once i burned everything
you ever
left behind
and now
i mourn
that every word you left
is locked somewhere in my head
and I can't
remember

your tone
or phrase

or the quiet
presence you lent
my days

How much did you leave me,
that i missed in my wounded
refusal to forgive?

7.

I miss the smallest things

The strange and irrelevant;

The click of electronic keyboard press,

The thrill of recognition,

And, stars and stones but

The laughter in your voice.

I could never decide if it

Was with or at or because and so I just remember.

Minutiae.

Murmurs in the dark

When the minutes were free.

Have you heard my tears?

I pretend that telepathy is real

And reach out and out and out

And question the validity of

The soul.

So this is what the hate that comes from lack of closure feels like.

8.

i wonder
if you felt the space between us
burn

was that just my imagination?
it must have been...

did you know
i wanted to
climb
the long length
of your limbs,

to feel
heat against heat?


no.
that was just a fevered night dream
leaving me
here

wondering.

Foreign

you say
"i see you
as an open book,"

but the
language that is spread
across my pages
is
foreign
to you

When Elizabeth's mother finally died, her hair knew before she did. It grew two meters overnight. 

Elizabeth awoke from a dream of being captured by a giant spider to find herself wrapped in the long, wiry black strands of hair suddenly shot through with silver, and she knew.

She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, avoiding the light, the mirror.

She brushed her teeth with minty toothpaste, and rinsed her mouth, her teeth aching.

She walked to the kitchen, her hair wayward, spread behind her and dragging on the floor. 

She took the shears from the utensil drawer and stood there in the kitchen, staring out at her garden, suddenly full of green herbs and blooming flowers, when only the day before it had been a dry, wintry, brown yard full of nothing but twigs and crab grasses and weeds.

Elizabeth took her hair in one hand, and began cutting it off in chunks with the shears.

For weeks and months afterwards, her neighbors would see Elizabeth working in the garden, checking her mail, walking her peculiarly large and even tempered dog, and wonder what had happened to the woman to cause her to so raggedly chop off the strands that many women in the neighborhood envied, though they would never have admitted it. They would wonder if her hair had always been streaked silvery gray, and they had failed to notice. But no one would talk to her, because her house was on the hill, and it was said to be haunted, and though parents told their children to "never mind such nonsense, of course it wasn't true," they believed in their hearts, underneath their awareness, because the house was old and the woman was strange and solitary and there were whispers of people who came from out of town to see her in the night, who left with bunches of herbs or chunks of crystal, or sticks of incense.

Elizabeth gathered the fallen hairs and put them in her fireplace and lit them. 

While the hair burned down to ash, she put a kettle on to boil.

She gathered the ashes into the ash pail and carried them to her garden, where she mixed them with the dirt of her herds and flowers and vegetables, silent. When the pail was empty, Elizabeth's hands were brown and grey with ash and dirt, and she washed them under the garden spigot, her hands going pale as the icy water leeched her warmth away. 

She plucked the leaves from the mint plants, knowing that by the afternoon they would be brown and hibernating once more.

In the kitchen, the kettle was singing.

Elizabeth walked back, slowly, crushing the mint leaves in her fingers, staining her fingers green, and releasing the sharp, resinous scent into the air.

She put the leaves into the kettle, and waited, watching as her garden began to go back to sleep.

She poured the tea into a mug and sat at her kitchen table, fingers cupped around the hot ceramic, but still icy cold.

She cried.

in the darkness

in the darkness,
in the midnight,

there are
cerulean doors
that lead me to you,
who
heard me and
made me catch my breath.

I fall through and
find myself naked beneath your hands.

and it isn't something I should want...

but the desire
creeps into my thoughts
up along my spine,

and caresses.

and I imagine
lemon bitter kisses,
for some reason,
like tequila and tonic
that I swallow down
and beg for more.

and you will perhaps never know of my desire - frustrated -
to touch your mouth,
and see if there was a spark there
which I could draw out
and hold on my tongue.

to walk the craggy shores
of your mind
and captivate your day dreams

can you have felt that desire
too?
like ghostly fingers
along the buttons
of your shirt?

or known that I wanted to pour myself
along the seams
of your
fingers?

to see if we could destroy ourselves,
together,
in crimson and chaos,
under the light-polluted sky,
beneath the stars obscured by hubris?

to see if a single touch could
burn this city to the ground?

all the little pieces

there are things that get left behind
little bits of those we once loved
and at first
at times
they sting
the reminders of
something that was
that is no longer a something

but in time
as we grow
it becomes just
pieces of us
taped up and
patched up
and sewn up

and there are the bits of those
who stuck beside
offered up words
and hope
and light
and fights
and pain
and laughter
and reconciliation

all the little pieces that come from
all the ones no longer here
all the ones still here
ourselves

all the little pieces

all the little pieces that make us
singular

we are plural
in our cores
no one of us exists
solely
alone

we are plural
in our singular selves

in all our little pieces

armour

when you look in the mirror
do you see armour
dented
and rusted
and worn?

and do you wonder
how
those white knights
on valiant horses
keep their armour
so clean?

but truthfully
I prefer the rust
and the dents

because I know then
that you’ve been tested
and won

you earned your armour
earned every dent
the shine has gone
but the Honor
remains
and grows

white knights are the foolish dream
of children
little girls who
know no better

I stand before you
woman
and tell you that
You
are the reward of patience

your armour,
my Knight,
had been tested
by battle
by doubt
and heartache
and tribulation

and you have
overcome

so take my hand
no fairytale princess I,
and let us go from here
knowing that the folly of children
is unfilfilling

and the rewards
of patience
of heartache
of growth
and birth
and life

have come to
Us,
at last.


2/4/2014

maybe

when things tumble

into place

sudden and shocking

and knock you off your feet

and your heart skips beats

because you believe

you want to believe

but it's hard to let go and fly

standing on the edge

tips of shoes 

poke over the edge

you peek behind

but that final step 

is just too much

so take my hand

and spread your wings

make me believe

Wings

I love you so much
sometimes
that my heart fills up with it
and it spills over into the rest of my
body
out into my limbs and my organs
and it keeps me warm in the cold

I love you full and round and hopeful

I love your smile and the taste of it on my lips
I love your arms and the weight of them
enfolding me
sustaining me
supporting me

I love your eyes and the light behind them
when you laugh
the tears that shine in their edges
when your heart aches
I love the blue of them
like the sky, like the sea, like the rain
so deep and powerful and overwhelming
that I drown in them
when you look at me

I love your heart and the weight of it in your chest
the thud thud thump of it against
my heart
in the dark
in the night
in the bright light of day
I love the stories it holds
and the pains
and the truths
and the strengths

I love you so much sometimes that it gives me wings
and my feet aren't on the ground
and the only thing I can hear is this:
the sound of your heart
of my heart

of us.