The Picking Moon

gently blushing now
as gravity pulls her in
to a grand adage

the demure rising
long before she says adieu
'til the next harvest

Maybe I won't have to tell you all the things within my infinite heart.
Maybe you will just stand by me and already know.
Maybe you will understand things they never intended there to be words for.
Maybe you'll look me in the eye and that will say enough.
Maybe you will hold my hand and find home between our fingers.
Maybe you'll know what love really is.
How it holds no shape.
And of its endlessness.

Now

This one time I called you when I was drunk and I barely knew you it was like we had just met. Like we hadn't slept next to one another for months. Because we had and we hadn't. This one time you called me and I had never known you and it was like we had known one another for lifetimes beforehand. We talked until the sun rose or until one or the other fell asleep on the line... I've always been vulnerable. I've always been right fucking here. As far away as I may seem. This is all I've got. Take it or turn away. Or hold me here forever. Cause that's what I'm asking from this frenzy life. Take me or turn away. Don't keep me for the sake of keeping. Take me or turn away...

There are things I want dead in my life.

There are three candles; one of them has gone out. 

Ballerina

I had a dream that you loved me because I was a ballerina.

That there were glasses of wine on the floorboards and I took a glass on my way down.

There was a girl critiquing black irises and adding pearls for depth and layer.

There was a girl upset over a lost wedding ring she claimed was stolen.

I had a dream I took your hand and lead you down between the floorboards. 

I had a dream I was a ballerina. 

I was thin and wearing blue and you grabbed my waist. 

You wouldn't stop talking. 

The girl with the ring wouldn't stop talking, or the girls about the irises. 

No one could stop talking. 

People will talk to you if you are a pretty girl alone at a bar.

I became aware of the shape of my kneecap the third drink in. When I stand up I will be drunk. I will use my newly discovered joint to move the rest of my body out the door into the oddly frigid LA air. I will smoke the remainder of a cigarette I rolled earlier. 

I will meet someone I know I've met before who is drunk and kinda sad but still fun and aware of himself. We will know some of the same people if we talk long enough. 

for the sake of secrets

I want to give you all of this if you just take the time to give to it

I don't have things you want to see

I have secrets hidden under my skirt

I have broken bits left on the floor 

no one careful enough to sweep them up

they'll stick in your feet

Unmeasurable slivers 

that embed themselves into your flesh that the body then attempts to reject 

with a throbbing 

feeling like a bruise 

You leave me with an itch 

You bow and smile and only we know what the other prays for

your touch is so far away

we brush by one another

we catch each others eyes and I want to rip them from your head so you can't ever look at me like that again 

you would still with empty sockets 

because when some things are born they are given a life beyond their bearers that lives on so strongly without their presence 

for the sake of secrets

Ovals

I am leaving flakes of skin everywhere hoping that its enough.

things happen to people

and they go away

things happen 

old shapes die

circles are pressed into ovals and wobble instead of rolling sweetly along 

you can't live in the past 

although there is no denying what the past has made you- your past is something maybe you can't live in, 

but you live with forever

the past has left me crippled 

things happen to people

they go away

Sometimes I think we have forgotten what love is.

it's thought to be something you seek or obtain or yearn for or live without or are void of or overflow with or need or want or have or don't or feel or see... something that is lost or taken or given...

these are ways we complicate simple things like love

No, love is like silence.

Love is like breath.

Love is a bowl movement.

Love is a hiccup.

Love is like waking up.

Love is the grey hues of night 

Love is a blur

Love is the space between two objects

It is something that simply is and always will be.
It's just there.

Don't complicate it.

My hair, the flakes of skin

they are the same as love 

anywhere I have been they are left behind

everyone leaves skin and hair all over everything. 

Precious

Don't let anyone in

Don't let them touch you

Don't let them look at you

Don't expose any part of yourself

Be the lone tree on a hill

As the sun sets; a silhouette 

Be a mother bear defending your feelings as cubs 

To roll and tumble careless in the sun under the sky with leaves 

Be the baby cub who knows its protected dancing wildly

Be the silence, in its patience and wisdom

A mouse with quick tiny eyes that is hard to catch

Be the beauty in stone seen through water; the light that reflects when you move your eyes

These are things to remember 

Because these times are different 

Very few in fact deserve you

As always, give kindness freely

But do not give away your kind as freely 

You are precious 

Untitled

Hearts beat
For as long as they want

Hearts belong
To no one but themselves