Your Poetry

If I only knew you through your poetry—would ever only know you through your words—I think I would have loved you just the same.

My Version of Love

You gave me so much—I didn’t know how to hold it. The moment you stopped, I was down on my knees. You said my version of love could not exist without conquest. Maybe you’re right.

All my life I have fought so damn hard for every single thing I have.

If you make it too easy for me, I won’t believe it’s real.

This World

I love this world so very dearly

Even more so now it feels

I am losing my grip on everything

The sun came up for me even

though I never asked it to

And most days I wouldn’t give

a second thought to everything

that was going right in my life.

The pure joy of waking up

with somewhere to go

something to do

and someone to love

I used to worry in the pointless way

one does—one who never had

to question her place in the world

Not knowing the fragility

of this place

Be a Poet

What is it like being a poet? You open yourself up like a big, ruinous chasm and everyone sees inside you, but no one understands who you are.

Palm

I drew on the back of my hand—all my plans. Things I would never say out loud. I stared at the words and what they meant. For myself, and everyone around. I unclenched my fist, held my palm up flat like a mirror, looked at it long and hard. I took a deep breath; my finger traced the lines from end to start. My life line. My fate line. My heart. It was all there before me like an open book, but I still didn’t know what to do, even though I already knew.

Every Other Heart

Will you love me enough? Love me so much that your heart can barely hold it—that it would break every other heart you’ve ever held?

Good Enough

You asked me what it means

to be an artist

as I stood before you

and all the world

Took one creation

after another

lovingly conceived

painstakingly made

and with warm, trembling hands

spread them out for you

under the cruel, unforgiving light

and each new thing

was a question of whether

I was good enough

Above You

Nothing is beneath you. And if you believe this with your whole heart—believe every living soul should be treated with respect and kindness—you will realize it goes the other way.

For once you truly believe no one is beneath you—you will see no one is above.

Facade

Do you believe in fairy tales?

My once upon a time

my read between the lines

My ordinary, everyday

do you need another rhyme?

Am I just an old cliché

Did I take a wrong turn somewhere

got lost along the way

Did a year pass by each day?