On My Own Again

Blood stings hot
rushing through
my bone-white cheeks.

"What's the matter, dear?"
"Aren't you feeling well?"

Veils of liquid fire
refuse to let me
see quite clearly.
As I stumble
for the door
my waiting escape.

"You can't run forever, girl."

No, perhaps not quite.

Perhaps I'll try.

My Heart

You are
my white picket fence
my American Dream.

My worth-fighting
worth-living
worth-breathing
worth-dying for.

The dream I fall into
when I lay me
down to sleep.

My hope that I
may be so blessed
to have my fate
intertwined with yours.

Baby, the stars aligned
to lead me straight to you.

I run to you,
into those arms
I call my home,
providing shelter from the storm.

I see in those
eyes of yours
our future
crystal clear.

When you'll
come home to me
into my arms
you'll call your shelter.

Epiphany

Crack. A rush of wet sound
slicing through - between -
my ears, running wild.

I'm drowning from within.
How can I come up for air
when I'm filled to breaking?

Feet kick dirt, a sight
I'm stuck within and on.
Avoid the beauty that rises above.

Sucking in my rush of elsewhere,
a breeze from yesterday.
Opening my eyes one last time.

Hoping for anything old
to suddenly become new
and worth breathing - drowning for.

Paper Leaves

Two more steps
a door
nothing more.

A shell is all
of what you
used to be.

Black holes, glazed
boring into me.
Running up my frame.

Your laugh could
shatter glass and
crinkle paper leaves.

The grapefruit in
my throat
threatens to escape.

"What is it, dear?"
You sigh, deliciously delighted
for how you've frightened me.

The skyline, through
the broken window
wills me an escape.

My eyes,
but a child's
refusing to be met.

Running now, fleeing
from the hell I've
walked into.

A bird, in flight
knows no simple
devastating sorrows.

My soul, so now
takes wing into
tomorrow.

Ill-Lit Morning

Wrap me softly
with your gently
hand-woven lullaby
of self-doubt, disapproval
and loathing.

Kiss me half asleep
while wishing
prettier things were coming
your way in the
ill-lit morning.

Your hopes and wishes
like kitchen knives
hanging ever above
my precious head
seconds from dropping.

I'll doll myself up
in your ill-lit morning.
Lipstick lines and bobby pins
trace our
broken future.

I'll be all you ever
wanted - nothing more.
So sweetly sincere beneath
my twelve layers of foundation
and false eyelashes.

After all - wasn't a
trophy wife
- a doll -
all you ever wanted
-nothing more?

Vortex

My ribbon of crimson
a vortex
falling away into
the black hole that
stains the porcelain.

As drops of light fall
onto sun-kissed tresses,
I peel
these eyes, my mask
away for one last time.

My world begins to fade
too soon, too quick
too real.
Falling away, I
remember the crimson

Hands and knees
cupped palms like bowls
scrambling, begging
to become one with
my crimson again.