pins & needles

There’s something beautiful
in knowing we all dream -
Knowing there is no
unreasonable expectation
that isn’t shared by someone;
By millions upon millions of people, in fact.
I know I haven’t always been easy
but I can tell you I’ve never stopped myself from loving.
And if that’s the only thing I’ve done right, I can live with that.
How often do you think about everything we’ve been through?
How often do you need to remind yourself
of the lessons along the way
until you feel like you’ve truly learnt them?
Because ive watched too many people torture themselves ,
telling themselves
they’ve made the same mistake again
when it’s not true
Its not true at all
Forgive me for a moment,
and allow me to use an extraordinary cliché,
‘’a mistake is only a mistake
if it is miss taken’’
and even at that each mistake is a new one,
and is really no mistake at all –
its just another chance to grow,
to feel,
to experience a little piece of yourself
that until that moment
had been hidden from daylight,
filling the corners of your being with cobwebs
and the dust you eventually allow other fingers to draw in-
write their names on-
leave you messages and drawing that look like childhood doodles-
(just know they are much more intentional than that.
And that it is time to do a spring cleaning.)

Dusting the attic won’t mean disturbing its peace,
it means making room
for the new beautiful things to run through it-
it means turning it into a living room
that you aren’t afraid to touch and walk through
and invite your guest to sip tea and sometimes gin,
and always leave crumbs behind –
you’ll remember the fun it was to make them
when you are tidying up again.
Its amazing – when that attic is clear of its current clutter
How much more room you will have-
I feel like we are all too full right now,
Like we wont allow ourselves to take more in because of it-
Tell me about those you have loved,
tell me about the places you have seen
and the things that have made you feel alive.
I want to watch pins and needles
carry tides of recognition through your body-
bringing you back to life
and bursting with the promises of new feeling(s)-
I want to watch the tingling sensation rise through your heart
and turn into those stars I see in your eyes
on the morning s that follow deep sleeps and heartache –
simply because you woke up again,
and today is a new day.

Changing

It feels like rain today
Like heavy handed, soft spoken
Like- please wash over me-
It feel like the clouds caught last night’s candles and blew then out-
Hot wax covering us all in attempt to keep these moments intact
-When summer hits, I want to sit in a fruit tree all day
-Read novels and pretend I am both writing and in them at the same time,
let this world fall away.
-I want to be able to say- I was here once, but I don’t really need to remember it
-This trunk will do that for me….
-This old wood isn’t nearly easy enough to find, easy enough to hide in anymore
I am still a summer child,
and when the sun disappears and water graces us with its presence,
I am relieved. Relieved that I don’t have to keep pretending I live in another world
The death of changing colours and these shadows are very real to me….

lighter shades of you

I’ve been painting my bedroom red
since the age of 12,
And given that I move a lot
that sums up to about two dozen times.
Now there are plenty of speculations
about why that may be
or how its affected me,
And the only thing I cant tell you
is that its true.
Its intense, its rich,
living in luxurious tones of bold
has always suited me.

But something changed recently
I got a glimpse of the life I wanted,
and discovered I wasn’t yet the person
that would fit in it

So I changed it
The red
I had clung to for so long,
Now its blue
Im talking about my bedroom
because it’s the room I spend the most time in
Those walls hold the shades I live in,
And have
since even before my heavy crimson trend

But I didn’t paint it blue
to remind me of you,
Im not quite that much of a masochist
I was just hoping
that living in lighter shades
Would someday lead me
to being light enough myself
for the things you showed me I want
I could give you a thousand reasons
why blue was never the right colour .
I didn’t want open sky,
that’s too exposed
I wanted the closed comfort
of a colour that is inside me
That knows me -
But that’s the old me
(hopefully)
Well, at least if this whole colour thing works.

notes on life

I had never seen a face that fell into a smile

i was confused because i knew the things you told me
from the begining - and was aware of them all along
i just didnt think they mattered

i wonder if you will ever find out
that you left a part of yourself with me


i am the center of a family
that has yet to form around me.
i believe that i will be loved
as i know to love
-wholly- and unconditionally-

im listening

Im trying hard not to write another love story
there are just too many
everyone wants to talk about love
i want to write about rapture
about how your heart was a beautiful woman
and you dont miss her.
when you feel empty
and organized
you forget if you have black or blue eyes
because sidewalks and concrete
are more familiar than mountain tops and sea walks.

I often write about the weight of other things
but i rarely get around
to telling you about just feeling heavy
of your heart reaching two tons
more than your ribs can take.
this monotonous, droning step carries so many
I know we all hurt
dont tell me you arent angry
i am angry
and i am lonely
but i am not love sick

lets stick to the facts
like what time my alarm rings
and what sings me awake in the morning
- i usually have that song stuck in my head all day-
these are the simple things
because it still stings to talk about anything else
and the way someones arms felt
doesnt concern any of you...
you have your own lovers to miss
and this chapter in my life can be called short and sweet

lets address all the thingswe want to say to strangers on the street
because we are all equally as clueless there
that way what im talking about is clear
and the people that linger near my corner these days
all look like they need to be told to wake up
so wake up
and keep your chin up

we all have love stories
i dont want to know what you think of at night
i want to know what you hear in the morning
when your alarm rings
because i want to know you
i want to tell you
that there are so many people to learn from
and if you cant find five thousand
in seven billion
then youll never know what love is
because you just werent listening.

I loved a man who was a ghost

I loved a man who wasnt mine,
spent days jumping between obligation and habit
-spent nights jumping between obligation and desire.
I loved a man who spoke differently than i did,
a man who never hid
behind the way the line comes out
when you mean it less...
but because of this
i never told him the things that sounded too easy
that sounded too smooth,
-i tried to give you imperfection, hoping you would hold it-
and i wonder if he knew it
but if i said what i had meant to
when you were still looking at me
-and i managed something about a change of scenery-
it would have sounded more like an offer:
to be someone living in the life of another
as though they were familiar,
regardless-
to pretend this friend was someone who's space couldn't be taken up
quite as easily as i'm sure it could be..
replace the lovers you hold in your court
replace the whispers exchanged in public places
and the sensation of falling -
but dont replace the phone call
of excitement, or of sorrow
dont replace the friendship,
dont replace the offer to see you tomorrow
or the next day
or the next day
because i will stay in the role of go to
for as long as you will let me
because i will still go to you....
and if i could, i would tell you:
Don’t cut me out.
Sometimes logic rules us in a way it shouldn’t,
Sometimes we don’t recognize this…
Don’t cut me out
Believe me when I tell you
The best gift I could ever give you,
Is to love you.
Don’t cut me out until the voices you hear through the walls
sound nothing like your own,
and you know you are at peace with your thoughts.
Don’t cut out the part of your life that is foreign
That is lonely
That wants to be home.
Don’t cut me out,
Using shoe string as a telephone wire,
I didn’t quite hear you through all that clarity.
Don’t cut me out,
because the secrets you hid within me
Are still there,
and they may not be allowed to see sunlight,
but they still need to be nurtured.
Don’t cut me out-
There are traces of you everywhere
and without your presence they are like empty ghosts,
their hearts beat but not strong enough to keep them alive-
they haunt my bedroom, my sheets, my radio waves and laundry-
They haunt my bookshelf, my heart and my poetry.
Don’t cut me out
I’ve set my back against a train before,
and even it was easier to keep still-
Even as it pushed me south...
I know what it’s like to fight against the direction you’re from.
Don’t cut me out,
Ill trace your midnight with constellations, just to show you,
Even stars want to be close.
Don’t cut me out,
You’re more familiar with boundaries, borders, and stop signs-
I know I gave you a construction zone with merge signals and green lights…
but don’t cut me out-
I hope you need to know me,
the best thing you’ve ever told me,
is that you grew with these moments spent together.
Don’t cut me out.
I don’t need you to take anything back,
Just let me in…
I don’t need you to be mine,
But I need to be yours…

night turns to day

Her dreams haunt her lately
And like the portrait of a woman that sits still in her mother’s hallway
She waits
And watches them drift by –
hoping her lover wont notice the way her muscles tense
and her eyes fight to squeeze shut and open to safety at the same time
She’s beautiful, but she’s not sure he knows this
not sure he holds more than a fraction of her wholeness
The nightmares
Have stripped awareness
and the differentiation of memory and story
Blackberry cinnamon buns drip down her fingers as she sings him sweet and sticky songs-
Too much sugar he says-
I take my tea clear
And my coffee black
But she knows he cant imagine what hes bargaining for,
Or what she was like before she was sweetened…
These streets hold more than history
They hold the scars that lay hidden between thighs
And the regret carried around like a torn wallet
- All of your worth just seems to keep falling out….

Have you ever seen a dog that’s been beaten so badly
they cower at even the slightest of attention
Affection never comes with promises of comfort
When you’ve been kicked in the stomach
Left bare to the world ---

They spent the days talking about direction
And the nights about sex
‘it seems fitting, doesn’t it?’
The way he could fuck her like a woman who’s morning face would never be seen
But that’s not right
And he only ever had the best of intentions
One day they would look back and say
‘what a shame, that she sent him away before the day could break on their kind of love’
But I’ll tell you one thing
I don’t want to be the woman from the story above
- you’ve given me your arms to fall asleep in
And for right now that’s close enough to love.