Naked words float along the stream

Nothing but self fulfilling prophecies

A spiral of confessions melts off my skin

And the wandering eyes drift onward

When I come clean

These words only cut me as I sink along the bend

Under the waves of melancholy memories

I’m a prisoner wailing to a siren

And no one knows where to find me





My eyes could only focus on the curtained view of an elsewhere place as I stared out of your window that day.
Knowing what was beyond the broken, you stitched together the freckles of my back as it breathed with heavy, tear stained songs. Remnants of my youth that trickled beside an ink-ladened parade of scars danced in the day.
And I watched you in parts, as the whole of me diluted in the poison that I made.
The smoke as it evaporated from your teeth.
The strands of your hair that filled with color as the sun gilded you with light.
The lips that never parted but still smiled with sweetness
I wondered how young you were when you lost your laugh and if I was in another mirror wistfully searching for mine to return.
An innocent but insufferable desire to fall so sweetly into a warm, dark place left us wrapped beneath a veil amidst the fragmented; tenderly and beautifully alone.

Fruit and Bright Colors

The girl with cherries on her shirt
Eats donuts,
Inconspicuously wiping frosting off her pants
Covers her mouth as she laughs
And passes by the mirror before she gets a chance
To wash her hands
The girl with cherries on her shirt
Talks to lonely spirits around her bed
Leaves her skirt, worn and un-hemmed
Sits in the library to eat her food
Smiles at a little girl with braids who peeks over the fence, and asks,
“What’s over there?”
The girl with cherries on her shirt
Tries to feel closer to her bones
Hops into cars with strange boys
Wears bright lipstick to match her clothes
Turns up the music, just the way they’d like
The girl with cherries on her shirt
Doesn’t talk when she’s asked
Finds love doesn’t choose easily
Hides behind objects of glass
Let’s the past sleep behind her eyes,
Where it can always be seen
The girl with cherries on her shirt
Sees in black and white
Only wears monochrome to match her eyes
Adds a bit of salt to her showers
Looks at her mother and asks,
“What’s over there?”