Love is curious--forever young.

It's getting acquainted again and again,

a scavenger hunt with no buried treasure

but riches in what your brain makes of riddles.

Love is conscious--intentional, pure,

your favorite fruit on my grocery list.

It sorts through words rich with subtext and picks

only those that fall soft on bruised ears.

Love is healing--the one true remedy,

melted sun's tunnel through stubborn blood clots,

gashes stitched gently with minimal tears,

an overdose on laughter

once or twice a day.

Love is power--its claim and surrender.

You take my body; this soul, we'll share.

I'll build you a shelter you can call home

and be a humble guest until the day's over.

directionless discussions,

deliberately detached,

distracted damsel deemed distressed

drunken druggie,

daunting disequilibrium,

discernible decomposition deserving disapprobation

deafening dishonesty,

defensive doppelgänger,

desperately divulging distorted dilemmas

demagnetized disciplinarians,

disregarded decadence,

debilitated darling driven downward

A minute until you’re eighteen, and the party just started. I couldn’t bring myself to turn on the lights. At least the shadows look like they’re having a good time, bouncing on the dancefloor so kindly provided by the candles atop the drooping cake. I thought it would be nice to bake it myself, but it seems the oven wasn’t in the mood, either. The “Happy Birthday” song never really sounds good, but today it was as if it had to pass through a shredder amidst an earthquake before escaping my throat. I blew out the flames even though it would’ve taken less effort to hover over the cake and let my tears fall onto them. I wish it could’ve been me instead.

just a familiar stranger

whose fate lies in my hands

and mine in yours

traits hereditary

names unnecessary

i've met you sometime before

before i was encapsulated by flesh

before i was bound to a beating heart

before i adorned my shackles with diamonds

remember the light

reflecting off of you because it was reflecting off of me

how we danced a dance which required no physicality

just being and understanding

i am you and you are me

It has governed my life since I can remember.

I heard it every so often, when I would hug a little too hard or demand to be heard.

It was told to me by the people whose words I had learned to trust without question because they were older and wiser.

Now I take up less space, only speaking when spoken to, refraining from doing anything that might disrupt someone else's peace, even if it means mine is shaken beyond repair.

I guess I should be happy that I've been successful in never again hearing the phrase, "You're so annoying."

Today, I wore white to a funeral,

One for a soul I’d never known by name.

I tore the microphone from the pastor’s frail hands

And screamed to the choir that they had it all wrong.

“Treasure lies in my footsteps!”

I ran out of the church before anyone could seize me,

Stripped myself of my holy robes and danced with my toes in the grass,

Letting it be known I have breasts and hair where it grows.

The congregation circled around me,

Some pointing and laughing,

Others shielding their children’s eyes while unable to break their own gaze on me.

I stopped my flailing and stared back at the mourners

Who were no longer crying and all wore different faces now,

Displeased, disoriented, disturbed, delighted.

What were they looking at?

I knew the answer.

They did, too.

Nobody said a word.

After a few minutes of the nonverbal exchange, some made their ways down the sidewalk,

Heading to places only they knew.

Some went back into the church, none daring to look the pastor in his eyes.

I stood for a while longer until everyone was gone,

Then ceased to exist.