Between lines

He lived with a cracked girl
but didn’t notice
she was worn almost clean through
in places
(strangely, not where she was hurt,
but rather where she wanted touch)

He bounced when he walked,
whole and golden in a whistling dream
without realizing she was leaking
and afraid of the Empty

She thought she was stuck
in a circle
with incongruously sharp edges
but he could still reach her
between bouts
of mania and dysphoria

She would carry fog
if she only knew the science
but despair was forgotten
within his strong hands



Even after discovering
I am no architect,
I visited his plans for me
and saw beauty in
lines of submission and
of promises held higher
than wind in mountains.
But I would not lose
my voice or give up my wings
so I went back to find
a place that existed before
his eyes would pierce
or his voice would grumble.
There are places yet to be etched
with softer desires
and whole portraits waiting to bloom.

Blue Afternoons

Breathing deep a gathering
moody mess, I am alert
and sense he’s near…
my worries of being moss and bark
have been overtaken
by his steam-and-oil growls of discord.
I love the taste of his screams
and how they fill my waking fever.
He draws from me long views
without suffering blue afternoons.

Inner light

My light was drawn to your light
and even with eyes closed,
it was glorious

but oh! you saw me
and I wanted to hide
but there was no need
since your hold
was strong and true.

These are times we want to last,
when light surrounds
and we are held.


When he held me in a thrall of fire,
it was as though red was a shape
and the thumping came
from underground.

Listening to air-born chatter,
I grew warm only in his view
while my other angles cooled
like grass after rain.

Staring into make-believe eyes
as real as my own in a mirror,
I saw he was where I wanted to be
and we were burned away.