Daisies

I popped a tire,
on the way down
the train tracks,
that run in front of
the place my heart is home.
I was searching for you,
or at least some trace,
but I knew there was nothing;
no part of you there.
I ditched the bike
in the middle of a field,
and walked the rest of the way--
free as a sparrow,
heavy as stones.
I found a suitable tree,
that reminded me of you,
and nailed my poetry
to it's trunk.
I left you a message,
somewhere in the trees,
that you'll never find,
because though I go
to that place all alone,
I know you never will.

I picked some daisies,
and went home.

Disorder

I starve myself
of every word
that builds my bones
strong with deceit
until I can see
my skeleton
through thin skin.
I throw up
every empty praise
and every lie
ever said to me
without sincerity
to purge myself
of the vanity that
hugs my frame.
I will become
a shadow of
who you've built me to be,
in order to die
to the "me" that requires
your words to survive.
Whether you praise or you judge,
you are unnecessary to me;
there's only One,
who has the perfect words.

Amber

You have
amber irises,
like the little pendant
around my neck,
that you always asked about.
I have forgotten you,
dear friend, distant dream,
forever-ago love.
But when I see
your eyes,
easy, and familiar,
unsteady and wild,
I remember it all.
Holding your nervous hands,
kissing your rough cheek,
capturing your lofty promises,
and waiting, for you to leave.
See, I fought tooth and nail
to be the apple
of those amber irises,
but it just wasn't enough,
to keep you
from turning your gaze
elsewhere.

Goodbye.

Birdcage

Open up your chest 

to show me there's something

still beating in there. 

Behind your birdcage 

made of bones, 

has your lovebird 

died or flown free?

Did you clip it's wings, 

and stop it 

from singing? 

Because when we speak 

there's no words 

and when we run, 

there's no speed;

just silent glances, 

just stagnant motions, 

that mean nothing.

Your hands are cold, 

your eyes are empty, 

and your smile 

is dull. 

Where is your heart? 

Crux

Today I wear blue
like the sun wears it's light,
unable to be hidden,
and all over my face.
I'm tired
of pretending to be
any other colour
but pacific ocean,
night sky,
his eyes-- blue.
I'm tired, of giving yellow smiles
to people with their eyes closed,
and understating my heart
to ease the guilt you get
from breaking it.
I'm indigo,
with little stars in me,
that explode into super novas,
with galaxies in my chest,
and meteors in my mouth.
I'm the fifth colour
of the rainbow
painted in your skies;
the borderline,
between the warm and the cold.
I'm on the line.

I'm always right on the line.

Orange

She dreamt of him in hughes of colour that only seem to make sense when her eyes were closed. When she woke up, it was like he was swept away by the sunlight. She could try to hold on to him all she wanted, but she knew it was no use. He was familiar and warm, but unplaceable.

She filed him in the back of her mind and remained in mediocrity. She worked like everyone else, rode the bus like everyone else, and lived her life like everyone else. People passed in and out of her life constantly; nothing was ever the same way twice. She'd met plenty of men. Plenty decent, good-hearted, worthy men. But there was always something wrong. Something always felt wrong. She hadn't meant him yet. The one that would feel like an old friend, yet a new stranger. The one that would finally make sense in the daylight. He would no longer be a fragmented dream.

There was something about the way he was with her, when she was dreaming, that made her believe that she would meet him in the real world. Something about his words, and his movements mesmerized her. She could tell that he loved her. Unreachable and unknown as he may be, she knew that much.

And even if he wasn't real, even if they would never meet, she held hope in her heart that the feeling was real. She had hope that one day, she would feel the way she felt when she was dreaming. She could have the confidence to believe that someone, somewhere would be as familiar as the dreams she dreamt every night.

She believed it, with all of her might.