magic

magic exists in the believer.
it manifests from the beauty of self.
when the soul
builds off of it’s own wisdom.

healing ii

i want to completely undo myself.
rinse my pieces,
find my peace,
and put myself back together again.

detail

attention.
to detail.
leaving me homeless,
grasping at how i could let
love
make me stare idly into
an eclipse.
i made myself this way,
i let the scars and the battles
teach me that
love,
love doesn't provide much
when you can't place your heart
inside of your lover's arms.
love doesn't keep you warm at night,
when you can't trust what you are
loving.
disappointment comes in waves,
in sequences,
washing over you,
taking you over.
and you pay attention to detail,
recognizing that
you were fortunate enough
to end up back on shore.

previous encounters

of course I've been fucked before

men dragging their lies

up and down

my legs

kissing me with strangers lips,

kissing me with the lips of their lovers

leaving me a delicious unfinished meal.

I had been a home for the wounded,

in between battles,

waiting for their next wife,

their previous lover 

to love them again. 

I had become a 

drawer

of unwritten love letters,

just blank pieces of paper

empty pieces of hearts. 

traditions

being defined as something 

based on the extensive

care and compassion of men,

leading me down a "fatherly lane"

when you had no father 

to come home to

after school dances. 

don't let them put labels on you

because they think you should 

be a direct 

clone of their beliefs,

a copy machine

of understandings,

that you never really understood,

much less believed in. 

loner

I do not fear being alone.
alone-ness has been the only thing that stands faithfully beside me.
the only thing that keeps me warm at night.
what a lonely contradiction.

changes

i don't know what
will become of me,
what they're asking from me,
how i became one
thing
the opposite
from another.
where has my love gone,
dried up
guarded
lifeless.
my romance,
lifeless.
have i been away from home that long.