The apologetic of being

For a day

I lived

for a day

I laughed

for a day

I loved

for a day

I knew

for a day

I was

and for a day

I will be

A part of me

is crying

is dying

is loving

is leaving

is living

is giving

is smiling

is laughing

is here

is there

is now

is later

is believing

is knowing

is thinking

is dreaming

is dancing

is being

is being

is being

is being

is being

for a day 

I was

and for a day

I will be

in a world

caught up

in doing something

in being someone

I'll be

be

be

For Alex, the way I recall him

I love you

I know.

it’s crazy and weird and you’re beautiful

and perfect and strange

and I love you.

for the way you curl your toes over the edge of the sidewalk

and the way you brush the hair away from your lips

and for the way you dance when you think no one is watching

on the corner of the street with your headphones on.

I love your smile

the way you laugh

the way you look at the sky

when you think it might rain.

I love your nose

the way it wrinkles

when you hear a good joke.

I love your eyes

the way they always seem so happy

even when you aren’t

I love you because you think you might be gay

I love you because you deny it so vehemently

I love you because you’re afraid and it’s beautiful.

you’re beautiful

and you don’t even know it.

I love you

I know

you couldn't understand it if you tried

because you've never seen yourself as lovable

it's sad

because you're so wonderful

and you

like everyone

deserve to know that you're loved.

She's a good girl

somewhere deep down inside her soul
she knows it
she thinks
but on this tuesday morning
the ground wet with dew
and the sky blue with a disapproving glare for the solitary runner
she can't quite believe it
she's something evil
something wild
and her feet pound the earth with the force just right
to force it out of her
send it showering into the sky through the tips of her hair
she hopes
but honestly
she knows
that she doesn't fit in a stained glass housefilled with stained glass light
in the shade of a steeple
where the pastor preaches love
and the people see evil behind every mask and corner
because if they knew her, they'd hate her
without a second thought
but it's dangerous to think like that
because she isn't there for the people.
she's there for the one who loves her
and wants her
thinking about the people is enough to send her running
back to the proud and the shackled
to laugh, and cuss, and drink, and smoke
and kiss the one whose heart she broke
again
it's dangerous to think like that
because she tells herself
she'll strive to be
the good girl she isn't
she'll try.

She sat in the forest

till leaves fell from her clothing

and the ends of her hair whipped up into vines

her hands rooted themselves to the powdery earth

and she slept like a tree in the winter

the willows grew around her

the years flew by like seconds

the dawning sun of each morning blending into twilight grey

the dew falling on her silvery shoulders

painting the grass and dirt

with starlight

birds nested in the crooks of her elbows

mice nestled in the folds of her eyes

the forest moved subtly

with each passing moment

alive and solemn and still

growing

as only a forest can

the sun danced through the gaps in the leaves

pine-cones fell to the springy earthy ground

the moon gazed upon the night

like a watchman from a tower

noticing each detail as a world of its own

the girl in the forest sat

a living, breathing thing

with a place in creation

of her own

then she awoke

and the scales fell from her eyes

and the binds from her wrists

the gag from her mouth

and she realized what we’ve missed

in the cities

and the suburbs

and the computerized

robotified 

lives we lead.

A librarian maybe

or a cinematographer

maybe a poet

or a midnight photographer

a conductor of trams?

or a sec'er'atary

a writer

a reader

collector of words.

a musician 

a busker

or maybe an actress

a woman with flair to be sure.

perhaps just a lady

who works in fact'ry

and spends the night trav'ling vicar'sly through books.

a wife

a mother

a lover 

a friend

a short order chef,

or coffee maker

the crazy lady who plays pretend

the designated cookie-baker.

a zoo-ologist traveling far away,

the one to arrange the set for a play
a visitor to the renaissance faire
a drifter who's always on the go
from ocean to mountain laden with snow.

a woman with flair

a woman with flair to be sure.