Pieces

I have become 

disjointed;

pieces of me 

feel ill-fitting, 

loose where

cracks are forming 

over my very 

being.

The pieces still 

precariously cling on but 

I can still feel the edge 

of everything falling 

silently and slowly 

apart.

Eventually, I'll have the 

strength to pull myself back 

into one but 

right here, right now,

all I need 

all I want 

is someone's arms 

around me keeping me 

together, 

even if only 

for a moment.

Tongue-tied

Talking has become 

too complicated 

for me, 

conversational situations run 

through my head;

I fill with

"What-if-I-said-this?" until 

I am left with 

only a cacophony of silence, 

and I say 

nothing at all. 

Even now I 

am stumbling across 

these words, 

trying to sort out 

thoughts and imagery and 

apologies. 

I hope you don't mind 

that I'm not quite all there 

right now,

I don't mean 

to be ignoring or 

passing you off
with silence and monosyllabic
answers,

but lately I've been staying quiet 

because my mind 

is so loud 

that my language has become 

undone. 

Stars

my darling, 

when 

I asked for a star, 

you sent me a galaxy 

to light up 

dark nights, 

and even when covered with 

dark clouds 

I can still 

see faint glows; 

all I want 

to do

when you get lost

is to send you 

the stars, 

even if not to guide you 

but to light your path 

on the way home.

Angles

I've always felt

that my body 

comprised of 

angles jutting

out, 

pointed shoulder blades,

cutting hips and 

peaked collar bones; 

a fitting exterior 

for someone who would 

otherwise be 

too soft. 

But when I feel 

how I fit 

under your 

casually draped arm, 

how your hands settle 

on the base of my 

spine, 

your fingers tracing lines 

down my thigh;

you melt me 

back into 

soft arching curves.

 

Delayed Spring

Like a 

delayed spring, 

you plant flowers 

in the once 

snow covered banks 

of my heart, 

with fingers churning dirt and 

lips sowing seeds and 

loving words nurturing seedlings 

in warmth; 

patiently, you gaze

as I unfurl 

and reveal my petals 

to you, and 

you alone.

Butterflies

It's almost 2 in the morning and
your guard has
 been slipping,

words
emotion
soul
spilling,
you placed 

butterflies in my 

chest and I 

can hear them beat;
but now it's
the grey afternoon
and somewhere in my dizziness
the wall has been
fortified again,
the warmth is cut off
and the butterflies are
cocooned
and I don't know
if I can hear them
anymore.

Sand

They say this
Isn't me,
That I'm not this girl
Who tears herself down in the middle of the night
To tears;
But I guess
You've picked open scabs
That I thought had healed,
Leaving behind a raw lump
Of sinking deja vu,
And everything has been reduced
To sand slipping between my fingers
So when I grasp at it
More grains slip past
While I can only watch,
Carefully built sandcastles
Breaking apart in tempering winds
And I
Am just helpless.

Buzz

There's a buzz

that hums in

my chest,

in the greyed out

feelings

that sets my bones

 ajar,

and drowns out

affection in

deafening white noise,

while ink runs

down my fingers

with words

unwritten,

unsaid.