He would rather,

Nestle in her tranquil smile,

Let her soft fingertips,

Trace his jawline,

Than sit with me,

On the thorny ground,

And pick up

My broken pieces,

Buring his nails

In the coarse dirt

And the soot

From my bleeding soul;

I blame him,



Paper Past…

Stacks of paper,

Chits, notes and entries from the past;

Pictures and letters,

Holograms of places filled with faces cast;

Wings of nostalgia,

Forming curves on the lips, embrace the heart;

Hidden among the piles;

Maybe I’ll find, my lost pieces at last….

PicsArt_06_16_2015 11_22_18

The magnet that is you,

Hauls off me,

Metallic peels,

Until there’s nothing of me

Left for me;

Waging war,

Against myself,

I battle,

To keep my pieces intact,

But they fight me,

And soar to you,

To be an inconvenience,

At your feet.


Call him the moon,


I loved him not

For the light he threw,

So gracefully;

But for I knew,

Of the debris,

Lying beneath

The supple ivory rays.





The embrace that held,

All my pieces intact;

The hand that clasped,

My fingers, compact;

My ground that never swayed,

While I swirled, abstract,

You were my home;


A cast away now,

I wander,


A vagabond,

Who lays her head down,

As shelter comes her way,

Closes her eyes,

Into a restless drowse;

Be on her way,

Before the dawn breaks,

No matter how,

The blisters

In her soles, bled.


Sing me a song,

Write me some prose;

Just prove me

That it’s not wrong,

To forgive you forth;

Assure me,

That all the tears,

Weren’t all for naught;

Just show me,

It was a friendship,

Worth fighting for…


Collateral Damage

As they hustle along,

To find their homes,

Carry boulders,

To strengthen their walls,

Leap beyond,

To fill their souls,

They knock you down,

Though you weren’t in their way,

Smash pieces of rocks,

On your gut,

Tread on your heart,

And never look back;

Do they ever wonder,

If you got back on your feet?

Do they remember

Whose blood painted their worlds?