release

the skies swallowed my name
the hills gulped my title
the snowflakes endured the heat of my eyes
the clouds held my fingertips and gave them endless hope
the sea gave my tears companions
blue, blue gifts
the hybernating grass poked out to see the commotion
and that alarming feeling of vitality
tickled my toes
and rose up to the frayed ends of my hair
escaping with the words of the song that lilted across the tip of my tongue
finally released

the intersection of dreams and reality

she used to wish to fly
but time bred her inhibitions
and she grew to fear
her once coveted flight
before she knew it
it was almost too late
she stopped saying
"tomorrow"
and realized that if she knew that she would
never fall
that assurance
would allow her to fly

all along
the girl, the procrastinator-dreamer
was only afraid
to fall
and now she could feel
the bliss of
once-dreams
and now-realities

oxmoronic carrides

once i close my eyes
i can never know where i am
because i am constantly moving
and although i know the roads well
i dont know the feelings
of swerving turns
and slopes straights
but that is the beauty of this trip
that within the chaos
the conflicting voices and melodies
these familiar yet unfamiliar paths
i can finally focus
maybe we need to learn to block the
cacophony of living
to truly see ourselves
the solo
maybe we need the chaos...

sky blue skies

i never knew until now

how one person could see what i could not

i like how a chin curves

with sharp angles

a contradictory chin

or how green eyes glow

behind dark forest lashes

like emerald secrets

or when a smile can change

what you think of someone

when you look over

always wishing to stare

wishing to stare but willing yourself

to turn away

and leaving 

a flurried mind

and flashed eyes

why can't these beautiful things

be as free as 

sky blue skies?

sparks

when it all stops
out comes that something
that something extraordinary
that i used to try to describe to my friends
futile descriptions
ones where i search the tip of m tongue for a word that doesn't exist in my mind

sometimes my extraordinary something
is small
like how people often say
that they're alright
when all is not right
that tiny, extraordinary something
sparks my thoughts

sometimes my extraordinary something
is walking up the hill
and realizing that sometime,
i will not remember exactly what that street looks like
stopping
and spinning in a circle
turning slowly to try to capture what i will eventually lose
and my mind will distort this view
and someday it will only be the imagined view
that i made up in my mind
like stories of my childhood
stories told to me
about me
that i adopted as my own memories
my used-to-view
will join them
and that sparks my thoughts

sometimes my extraordinary something
is big
a big, extraordinary something
like those stolen looks across halls
later wondering who they're stolen from
later wondering until the looks creep into my dreams
those sly looks
stealing my sleep

like when what i am looking for is hidden in plain sight
and all i have to do is see through the opaque walls
or the camouflage
and find my extraordinary something
right there
all this time

like when letting go
is the hardest thing
and the best thing
at the same time

sometimes i sit down and write
i write about my extraordinary things
and that sparks my thoughts

if, when, then

“when,”

he says

implying that there’s a guarantee

“if,”

says she

denying his plea

will we ever figure everything out?

preceding with a “when”

not an “if”

will we ever find the answers to everything?

will anyone ever give us them?

when we do

if we do

i hope it’s soon.

before

i keep on feeling 
as if i should document my life
as it comes
so quickly
i keep on feeling 
as if time is passing more quickly than before
though i lie in bed
hoping to sleep well
hoping to fall quickly
hoping the next day will come faster
as these days come
i keep on feeling
as if they should rewind
that i must have wasted
all that time
i keep on feeling
as if i will look upon this time in my life
and only see flashes
only blinking photos set into the locket that is
my mind
that if i don't document my life
i will somehow lose it
i keep on thinking
about how i am myself now
and in a second i will be someone else
mutually exclusive beings
that i can't recognize the me i was
or am
or will be
even if it was the past
i keep on feeling
as if i don't know that person
and i can never get them back
and the panic of thinking about
my lost infinity of different selves
sets in
frightening me
and my heart beats
faster than before
before
what is before?
my panicked heart only sets me further away
and i keep on feeling
as if there is no way to reverse this treacherous movement
before
what is before?

a momentary fullness

in sync, distinct
the two kinds of warmth
in the world
the first, 
one that reminds me of puppy paws
and hot metal grates
the second, 
of soft touches
a feeling
a warmth
that rises in my core
that spreads like vacuum released
and so quickly as it scatters
it dissipates into a fog
of longing for warmth number two
a lifelong waiting
breached by momentary releases
a cavernous, constant pocket
momentarily filled
and i will never lose that missing piece
or is it already lost
and i will never lose that missing piece
or is it finally breached

an archers shot

i want to tell them what i need to say
but i cant express my true thoughts
why cant i throw down the guards?
when i say it, though,
opinions fly like arrows
and miss the poised apples
instead pierce my vulnerable flesh
why dont they support what i need to say?
is this why the guards line up
and fill the turrets?
the image clouded
by smears from my swooping hand
reasons why i try to be
un-opinionated 
when someone else needs to speak out most
because i am not an archer
and i wish they would choose other professions 
because their defensive retorts
only make them feel better
and just barely

lesson

i hope my words make a difference
in someone's life
although the impact
of my being gone
might be heartbreak
or not
i wish to 
stamp 
a lesson
for life
even though i may not know much
i could still make a difference