We must forget the bitter past.

Shaking in the wind

Wilting in the fire,

Ablaze, cuts sharp, fringed at the edges.

Jaded flower, rootless stem,

Hold you ground,

Hear the sound,

Of nothing but the splash-

Of cold water on scorched skin.


We must forget the bitter past.

Thirsty soil seeks the rain,

Blind petals pray for light.

Heavy clouds lay down your grief,

And thunder down the rain’s relief.


Mellow Drama

This one is for my fiancé, who, on a daily basis, saves me from myself and my worst hidden fears.

This room has seen it all,

And yet its still standing, stark still.

Your mind wrapped up in a rectangle

Until my sigh blows with a telling chill.

Per usual, you see through my facade,

And when I tell you, “I am fine,”

My face caked with it’s lies,

You inch a little closer,

And peer into my eyes.

Inside you see the clear blue,

Pooling water, like the ocean

Just as the sun sets and the high tide rolls in,

Pulling me under,

Waves thrashing at my body,

Like knives thrown asunder.

It was just a question,

But now I am drowning

In all of my hidden sorrows,

And somehow you have an answer

For each ridiculous notion.

Somehow you throw me a lifeboat,

In my endless chaotic ocean.


Red Sunflowers

Sitting here, I blankly stare

At the red sunflowers

Reflecting in the checkered

window’s frosty glare.

Rattling like a snake,

My mind slithers me back

To a time before I was crippled by judgement,

Reacting to every sound, every snap,

Assuming all corner’s lay mousetraps

And I, the hiding rat.

It was a time before my fingers froze,

My back stiffened and my vision blurred.

A time before I over explained,

Overdid and over endured.

A time before my answers to questions

Came out muddled and slurred.

So I blink twice

Unmoving, my body is heavy, my arms are slack,

But I manage to reel myself in

From a head of chaos and a soul of doubt.

“Who have I become,” I ask

To a window that does not talk back.

So I sit here and blankly stare,

At red sunflowers,

Chopped and lifeless, without a care.


Terrors of the Night

I will tell them I know nothing.

My heart pace quickens as the night draws near.

Voices in my head run rampant,

Like horse hooves pounding the wet pavement,

The carriage wheels spinning with speed and squeaking from ware.

I hear them coming for me.

Knocks thud like thunder and rain on my fragile wooden door.

Hidden corners deceive me,

I have no escape.

Screeching voices echo through my shallow halls,

The floors shake from the stomping of their rain soaked boots.

They have found me.

I tremble as the words escape my lips.

I tell them I know nothing.



Heavy clouds shut out the sun,

as I fell in deep.

Enconcsed in darkness, your hand was my rope,

Your voice led the way,

For this burrowed mole, you filled with hope.

How did you do it?

Butterflies dance to the tune of your laugh.

Your steps leaving trails of gold,

Sunshine in your wake.

The Earth had crumbled beneath me

Before your gleeful soul stilled my quake.

Your face is magic,

Like wrinkles carved from laughter.

Happiness etched into your eyes.

Knowing your smile could carry me home.

Oh, to die in your sunrise.


Memoirs of the Passive Aggressive: Lion Inside Me

Push, shove, hit me once more.

The Lion who waits for you, stands at your door.

Red rash, scratch, bleeds till I’m sore

My mouth may be silent, but she’s keeping score.

Careless assumptions fly

like darts to my eyes,

While she’s steadying hers,

Aiming to pounce at your lies.

As I take in your cruel voice, with it’s ear numbing shrill,

Shes waiting to swallow you whole, Like a whale eats her krill.

Those heavy words from your mouth, the one you never pause,

May sting sharp like a bee,

But she’s sharpening her claws.

Push, shove,

Open your door,

The Lion who waits for you,

Waits here, no more.

Lower your gaze, you narrow minded louse.

I thought I was a lion,

But, when it comes to fighting back,

I am really just a mouse.


Owl in the Night

Brown eyes like murky wells so deep, they stare me down in the night.

Blinking back my shallow depths, I hopelessly peer,

For I have lost my sight.

Time passes, I carry on.

What have I to fear, as I saunter towards the facade of the light.

Nothing, or so it appears, waits for me here,

But if my eyes could dig deeper,

Like sharp claws to a loose branch,

Then those eyes could guide me home,

My owl in the night.