fifteen; the garden

Raindrops like tsunamis
erode canyons in our earth;
we sway, bend, bow to Light Giver.

After the rainstorm ends
our roots absorb Life Liquid;
our petals slowly shine shine shine.

The Spider and the Butterfly
emerge from their hidden home;

Weaving webs of green and new life
and fluttering up, away;

Light Giver breaks forth, shattering
clouds as her face peers through the carnage;

Our stems wave, our petals shake
because the winds embrace our bodies;

we are not alone.

we are those who pepper the mountainside
and feed the beasts who circle around us;
we grow and pollinate, with time to bide
before the Cold Time will kill us.

we live together, amongst the Garden
turning our faces to the sky;
day after day we beg your pardon
before we are picked and die.

fourteen; chess

i don’t ever want us to be anything but what we are
i can’t imagine us
being anything but what we’ve grown to be

and i hate how you always say you’re sorry
when it’s my fault we’re in this mess

our chess pieces are mirrored
but something’s wrong
and a stalemate is where we’ve met

on a battlefield of hurt feelings and
emotions that don’t belong

our pieces move in tandem
yet we’re broken somewhere in the
middle

but i can’t remember how to feel

thirteen; we are, we are

like footsteps on pavement
in suburban city streets
we are natural, we are comfortable, we are content

like warm fires at night
in fireplaces at our feet
we are calming, we are reassuring, we are safe

like books on shelves
in the library of our hearts
we are close, we are ancient, we are bound together

and like the curtains on the windows
in the old home we used to share
we are hiding, we are translucent, we are faded by the sun.

twelve; growing up

I don't really have much to say. So. I hope this speaks for itself.


our shapes are those of phantoms
who phase through emotions (like walls)

and pretend that spikes are cotton swabs
and moving on is like eating your favorite meal

and fire is nothing but the burning in our souls
moving away like two compasses gone awry

we were a pair, inseparable as siamese twins
and now our silhouettes are drawing away

so long, sweet summer;
your rays of warmth are long dead; my heart grows chilly

you are who you are now

and growing up hurts more than I ever thought it would

eleven; cardboard

I'm sorry I suck so much :( I totally forgot about this. :| This past week has been busy as hell. No parents are home, so I've been running around like crazy. Here's something I just wrote. A few minutes ago, completely unedited.

and when you lie to me, tell to me
the things you know I want to hear
I just can’t – won’t
trust you anymore.

we’re falling apart
like a house decays with age

and

we were once made
of stone, never weathered or
eroding

but now

we’re cardboard boxes in the rain
and if you only knew
that I would shield you from this storm
and if you only knew
that I don’t because I don’t know

if you want me to
like I want to
or if you want what
I could never give

but it breaks my heart

ten; a mother that cares

So, I'm super slack and forgot to post yesterday. :| Sorry, guys. I suck. And today really sucked, and I hurt my foot, and my stomach is aching so I'm feeling really uninspired and I just want to go to bed. Happy fourth, everyone.

Upon the hallowed halls of the Vatican,
Clipped the heels of a woman, hand to her bodkin.
A man in fur, vision of her nightmares,
Brings her to Italy, to make her repairs.
At home in Brooklyn she slinked her street,
Committing sins so her son can eat.
Mary was her name, ironic in origin,
She fled her early home, that desolate dungeon,
To make a new life, away from there,
And she comes full circle, making a prayer.
She takes a knee, eyes to the Lord,
Feeling the tightening of her metaphorical cord,
Around her neck, where she placed it ere,
In her duty as a mother to care,
For her son, the child of a man she loved.
She pledged her soul to her beloved above.

nine; like bars

This is one of my pieces written during Calculus class (; It's focus is on friendship, and the...issues that come with it. I think tomorrow I may post a full explication of the work, because for one, I don't feel like typing it up, and for two, the poem + explication is a little much for one day :P

friends make lines (bars)
between
one – two – three five

but four;
if I wanted four as
unattainable goals
(including those unseen)

I could cut, scissor, slash
apart (bars)
but bars don’t break;

bars melt like molten
words

and I’m left behind
(bars)
where four is
unattainable.