snippets of her mind [updated]

she thought she could write
poems using snippets of
her mind, but when it all
unraveled

she couldn’t
make sense of it

what was this new
layer, she asked
why does this memory
feel tainted,
spray painted
with regret, thin enough
to see through to what
she used to believe
was true-

she was stunned,
started backtracking, but got
turned around, lost in a forest
of memories and
miscommunication

she was too young then,
but now she has the
instincts, as women do,
to know it wasn't right

she thought she could write
poems using snippets of
her mind, but when it all
unraveled

it was too dark
for her to see anything

A Box Left Undisturbed (a partial ballade)

a box left undisturbed
alone in the attic for decades
dust coats the floorboard
of which it shades
please, stop this charade
just open it, and reveal
I'll wait to watch as the treasure cascades
onto the floor, gold would be ideal

no? fine, in first, I'll wade
to unveil the concealed
quick, come to my aid
and look upon, surprise, the spinning wheel

3, 2, 1

3am thoughts
2am phone calls
1am regrets

the lost time, you can
feel in your reaching
fingertips tingling

no one expects
a thing of you,
you should be asleep

all the more reason to
be awake
it's magic the way
photographs are art
it's peaceful the way
roaring rives are calm
it's just right the way
timing is everything

pieces of myself

i have these poems.
all incomplete.
in tatters, delicate
pieces of myself that i don't
want to break
feelings
happen to be irreplaceable.

i have these thoughts.
they won't fall into line.
blurred.
incomprehensible.

i have this love
i want to share
this fear
i hate to admit
this past
i need to work through

it all comes together
but whether it sticks
or not
depends
on the
humidity

in the silence

music is
felt

in the
silence

words are
digested

in the breaths
after
line
breaks

we search
for
what is
missing

that is how
we listen

that is where
we find 

our place to
connect

running parallel

we are running parallel
paths never crossing
no destination listed
longing looks are all we get
between us regrets worn
by 2ams where
time is abstract
but the only thing that matters

we are running parallel
faster and faster, trying to
find a side road to bridge the gap
trees may hide you,
but I could find you blind
rocks sharp under my soles
our souls, aching
our skin, starved

we are running parallel
if we intersected
would we only be
destined to drift apart?

we are running parallel
paths never crossing
at least I know you are close

bravery means vulnerability

it is not defined by boldness
nor by refusing to listen
(that isn't bravery)

they called me brave
(but left out the
parts of my story
that made it true)
they said that i was brave
"because i survived"

but i didn't get to decide
how my surgeries went or
how my body
healed itself

i got to decide how to
stitch myself up
in another way
from the inside out, into
standing position.
i got to try to put my pieces
back together
ones that didn't fit anymore
however i chose to
(in the end,
i figured out that i had
to create new ones)

courage is found in the most
vulnerable parts of a person's soul

for me, that means
telling my story
and admitting to any
shame over my past

it means
revealing that all
of those ugly things i
was told (the words pressed
against me until i
couldn't breathe)
still haunt me

these brave things
(the vulnerability) hurts

so much of me is
tangled up identity,
but i am learning that i
can redefine myself
(as many times as i choose)

being honest
with who i am
who i was
and who i want to be-
that is vulnerability
and that is bravery.

.

it will take your breath away

just how much you can

see when you stop staring at the

sky like you know all the answers

                                                          -  just listen

words are falling out of my pockets

words are falling out of my pockets
overflowing, i can't get it all down
in time to catch them from their
fall, their tumble out of existence,
out of sight, out of mind
i need more pockets
more bags
more boxes
to hold these-
words that come to me, i need them
to hold on tighter, until i have a pen

words are falling out of my pockets

and this is an apology 

to the ones i couldn't catch

this is what healing looks like

it's easy to get hurt- it takes seconds
healing takes time- it ain't pretty
for me,
the hard work has just begun

healing started with

blood and bandages,
tears and getting sick of pancakes;
I forgot not to look in the mirror,
it only made me feel worse
at least, on the bad days

that is what healing looks like
it can be quiet, deep aches
that tear you apart from the inside
the kind that people can't see
that is not forever

so, in the mist
of this experience you
would probably throw away
if you could

thank your body anyway
for the effort it's put in
for you and your happiness
the words will feel weird on your tongue
but, thank your body
for surviving
thank your body
for giving you strength

you can't rush loving yourself
have patience, my dear
it all comes with time

to heal a wound,
you have to stop touching it
scars are tougher than skin
and, oh darling,
the sun will rise again