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

autumn tie-dye

flying by 
my view rotates at such a speed
colors bleed
into autumn tie-dye
the hills are smooth 
and i can see so far
that the mountainous terrain grays
and fades in the fog
and meets the sweet and crisp line
of the horizon another time
and i wonder,
the trees in calm colors,
do they miss their falling leaves?

a loaded question

do you regret it? she asks

a loaded question

only we know the story

not even aloud

just in our minds

do you regret it?

i answer

yes

nothing day

a nothing day 

i can't be happy on a nothing day

once in a while 

a nothing day

walk upstairs

eat lunch

twice

because you forgot

sit on the couch

watch tv

the kind of tv that you would never watch on a something day

like icarly

and hannah montana

and storage wars

and you feel like nothing will make you happy

but seeing other people

and you can't see them

because they are having something days

nothing happens

a nothing day

we strode to the slide
i remember when she and i slid down the walls
and the girl ruined our fun
but we were still young

we walked to the house
had to bend to fit
the window could open and shut
peek out of the hut

we climbed up to the perch
i remember when the big kids were big
and little kids were us
we'd make a fuss
over a doll house

we stood side by side
watched the big kids be small again
and you stepped wrong
not seeing me
onto my foot
and the whole deal
us being little again
made us feel ridiculous
one misstep
amid the stillness for his spotlight
and we laughed
those silent laughs
like secrets
and you said "sorry" silently
and i could barely manage an
"it's okay"

a boy and a girl

there were falling stars
and sky scrapers
they ripped away the black duct tape
and what was left?
a tree
and a boy and a girl
and they climbed
and scraped their own skies
ripped away the thoughts and tears
the boy was tall
and girl had blue eyes
and they knew

and they could explore their white world
of black tape
a tree
and found the paper walls
with a friendly texture
and made a shape
with 
five
six
eight
points
and the sky was filled
and a boy and a girl
were filled
and they knew

wartime lull

the film shows wartime
and as he speaks
an anguished cry
from the heaps
what he said
i cant forget
what he said
i will regret
hearing as the pictures moved
and the voice cried
loud and full
dont cut anymore
to the wartime lull

a porch

a simple thing like
a porch 
can be a sanctuary to me
i can sit on my porch
neighbor's rock and roll thumping through the street
millions of insects quietly humming
the music of the trees
surrounding my porch
although it is fenced in
i do not feel fenced in
the fresh air
breeze
zone out the sounds
until it is just me
absolutely free
in my mind i could be
having tea
under the sea
multiplying by three
as small as a golf tee
drinking diet pepsi
swinging from a tree
in a sanctuary
where am i really?
a porch.

jealousy of me

i look back 
and i feel jealous of myself
is that possible,
to be jealous of yourself? 
i wonder if i will ever be as good
or bad
as i was then
the frightening thought that you will never be who you were
yesterday 
at 3 o'clock
last year
when you were six
i have changed
for better or worse
yet i am still jealous of 
who 
i 
was

there were two desks next to me

there were two desks next to me
but you still sat over there
there were two desks next to me 
but i'm sure you didn't care
there were two desks next to me
are you so self absorbed
not to think what i will feel
when those two desks are ignored?

his eyes, his hand

he scribbles
trying to capture a face
trap it 
capture it
enclose it
nose straighter
lips fuller
when he arrives at the eyes
his hand jerking upward to the curve of the forehead
like an arm reaching
reaching for his vision
reaching to tap you on the shoulder
say "hey"
he pauses
the eyes
scribble, rubs
his finger, his pencil are 
one
step back
the endless shuffle
step back, consider
his hand jerks upward to the faded gray eyes
when he finishes
i look
the eyes black
black smudges
holes on the rough white paper

awkward

i wonder sometimes
am i awkward?
small talk novice
shifty smile
full silence
thoughts repeating
what is she thinking?
should i say something? 
would it be more
awkward?
will i ever know...
what it's like to feel completely comfortable
small talk expert
want to be like a superhero 
in my books
in my dreams
could read minds
know the thoughts i can't hear
know the words i fear
am i awkward?
maybe
maybe not

sob song

sing along to your sob song

sob along with

the carefully articulated words

reflect your own sobs

why do people make others

sob?

why would they want to make someone so downhearted

spirit lost in a maze of unkind

words

looks

shuns

why would they on purpose make you sing along to your own

sob song?

on purpose

make you feel that catch in your throat

make your tears scroll across your soft and innocent face

make your expression tie into a knot

can you untie it?

will they never untie it?

break down the barrier of hurt

the sob song

making tracks across your face

will you let them?