Writing

i have an x over each rib

where you touched me, 16

crosses for

fingertips

to split open.

and i trace them sometimes

without knowing, but

even the memory makes me itch.

when i come away holding my blood

i try to shove it back inside of myself.

and if i come away holding nothing

i do the same.

my scars can't compare

to dirty ink, sewing needles,

each new breath a violation

of the covenant beneath my shirt.

The feeling that makes cigarettes

Smell like home

The feeling that makes desperate hugs

that are filled with the fear of him leaving you

Feel like love

Isn't happiness subjective?

Isn't happiness we all feel different?

My happiness is the darkness I fear

And the cold air I can't stand

The rain that makes me feel soggy

And hopeless feeling of someone who might just maybe love you back in the same way you do

who will never in a thousand lifetimes will

My happiness is the love that hurts

My love is the kind of love that's addictive

I always fall for the avoidants

The toxic cliche emotional attachment style of relationships

It's like I want to be hurt

But I swear to God

All I want

Is real happiness

Not the love where I feel like death without him

Not the temporary love of a puff of a cigarette

Just love

Not

Addiction

The leaves are brown

And I wish you were around.

I heard you call

And it made me fall—for you.

Oh, how I fell for you.

Fell, like the leaves falling from their branches.

Falling at full speed with a clear path.

And despite the wind’s threatening blows, they pursued.

They were eager,

Who could blame them?

They were falling, taking their hopes and dreams

With them in order find something new.

Little did they know,

that once they fell, they would be crushed.

Crushed under the feet of those who felt

arrogant enough.

Entitled enough.

After all, I am just a leaf.

The leaves are brown,

You're never around.

I heard you call

And it made me fall, for you.

Oh, how I fell for you.

Fell, like the leaves falling off their trees.

Falling from their homes in hopes

to find something new.

Little did they know,

that once they fell, they were crushed.

Crushed under the feet of those who felt empowered enough.

Entitled enough.

After all, you are just a leaf.

"It's not that deep"

But to me, it is.

I feel as if I'm being dragged to the bottom of the sea.

I'm drowning with no way to call for help

Because to you, "it's not that deep."

So I stay drowning in this sea of thoughts.

Drowning as the pressure hurls me into never ending

Waves of "whys" and "what ifs,"

This sea is swallowing me whole right before your eyes.

So who are you to tell me,

It's not that deep?

Within the temperate regions of bogs, marshes and fens growing from acidic sandy soil is a trap. A trap that reaches to the sun with long thread-like leaves and that can survive half a century. A trap that is covered with red hairs that are tipped with droplets that mimics the morning dew. A drosera. The dew of the sun.

How divine.

How alien.

Luring insects who are only hoping for a refreshing drink get trapped by curled tentacles. A surprise for helpless bugs when they are stuck in the sticky hairs of the plant. Slowly dissolved to a dry skeleton then dropped so the carnivorous plant can curl up towards the golden rays again. Waiting for the next bug who unknowingly falls for its sticky trap.

When I was little

I used to lay out on my grandparent’s porch,

bundled up in too many blankets.

My papa’s warm, fuzzy arms around me,

my magha sandwiching me on the other side.

We’d lay on the porch in the cold,

our eyes to the heavens,

watching the constellations move.

Telling stories about the great big dipper and the rainbow crocodiles.

Praying to my Jesus for just one more shooting star…

my solemn hands to hold, i swear it true

that bent and gnarled roots are shedding light

and Run! and Trip! and Soar! when Falling, Fly!

above emptied forests–to rise–to blue!

if i'd just fall again where trees once grew/

and though in fear you calm my hurried flight

with broken wings and broken feet, i cry

/revenge of earth, she pulls me back to you

escape, retreat into my shattered self

and far below the evening skies and stars

i wait, in deft decisions–you still delve

you hold, as though you caught me when i fell

but still, blood rushes, beats in hearts–through scars

pull hands across, around–as though to quell

i dreamt that night, of every star i knew

if once, if only they still kept the line

but answers only find all that we hide

we Search! we Grasp! we Scream! and once, we Flew!

moving or slipping through a patterned spell

no cause for fright, to dismantle alarms

today if i would heave myself past fear

i'd pluck your tongue and hold so you may tell

the world, the moon, the sun which feels your charm

i may leap forth–fly high, away from here