My icy blue veins
create a track
finger tips to
ski down slowly.
they find my fingertips
or my belt loops
or my zipper.
Crisp fall leaves
drowned in vodka
and cigarette smoke
covering my body -
a cocoon -
preparing for some kind of
There’s a law about concealed weaponry -
guns and knives and whatever.
But people hid other weapons, too -
people lie, people don’t show their real feelings,
people manipulate each other to get what they want.
And it hurts just the same.
Fireworks – they scare me.
The Fourth of July -
I always cried when I was a kid.
And sometimes I still want to.
When the fireworks pop
and scream and fizz
and are beautiful -
I can’t take it.
The noise, the lights -
It’s so funny – so, so funny.
I always came home as a child with thorns in my hair
and stuck to my clothing
and in the palm of my finger,
stinging with every single heart beat.
All the beautiful things have thorns -
I’m just especially good at finding them.
My dad keeps this big trunk of treasures in the attic. I have no idea what’s in it, but I always loved to imagine – pictures of long-lost loves; pictures of grandma when she was just a young girl; boxes of plane tickets; receipts from perfect dates with Mom, and dates-gone-wrong with other women. Someday, [...]
They said “don’t burn any bridges” -
but really, I just want to burn
your fingerprints off my body,
your sticky, vodka-scented breath
off of my neck
and your face out of my dreams.
Is that too much to ask?
His fingernails pressed into my back -
like miniature cacti in the desert -
that’s where they belongs, right?
He hurts me,
and I love him.
And he hurts me,
and I still love him.
We carved our initials into trees
when we were only nine years old.
But really –
you permanently carved your initials
into my heart that day.
I can still feel them -
sitting and waiting with each beat of my heart -
for the day you come back home.
My grandpa can’t hear out of his left ear because it got blown out in combat, fighting for our freedom. So when I wish him “Merry Christmas” and tell him “I love you and I appreciate you” he usually doesn’t hear it at all. But, I guess, at least I am free and can tell [...]
He clamps onto my hand tightly
and suffocates me with his forceful eye contact.
I don’t know what he expects -
but I know I must listen
or else the ever-tightening
grip on my hand will surely break me