Sleep Now, My Princess

laying back
eyes closed
d r i f t i n g away 
against your chest
your heartb  e  a  t
lures me d ee p e r
into a land of dreams
and happy memories
that only e x i s t when
you’re holding me
and telling me “sleep now my
p  r  i  n  c  e  s  s
in that sweet calm voice while
you run your fingers through my
hair and kiss my forehead
and in my dreams
these moments
never end.

Stockholm Syndrome

TW: Murder, kidnapping, child abuse, sexual assault 

Dear,

I have a confession
and I don’t have much time
to tell you of my regrets

Dear,

I may have killed a man
with his own gun
my shirt is soaked with his blood.

Dear,

He begged for mercy
but I didn’t feel merciful tonight
is it even really that bad
to kill?

Dear,

I’d like to think he was innocent
but he wasn’t.
he killed first; he killed my father.

Dear,

He told me, as he lay dying
that he killed him to protect me
that the man wasn’t really my father
that I was brainwashed.

Dear,

I shot him again
right between the eyes
when he told me his lie.

Dear,

The man was clearly delusional
and he took away all I had
the man who raised me from birth
after my mother abandoned me.

Dear,

If you were afraid,
they already caught me
after all, I killed him in his home
a Police Station with a big brown dog by his side.

Dear,

The sirens were so loud,
just like the night daddy died
when they took me from his home at
the tender age of thirteen and thrust me into 
the arms of a woman with long brown hair who
looked a lot like me.

Dear,

They told me the woman was my mother
they’re all a bunch of liars
my mother was a whore.  Daddy said she’s 
dead by now.  Rotting in some ditch
just outside of Jersey.

Dear,

Daddy said I’d never see her again
and then he’d tuck me into his bed
every night.  And tell me how special I am
and how I’m his “beautiful” girl.

Dear,

Daddy loved me.

Snow Angels

A flurry of southern snow and on Christmas no less
Seen from a lit window, the first snow flakes during
the famous gift exchange

“It’s snowing!” An excited exclamation 
and to the window two sets of feet traveled quickly
the room was full of awe and wonder
coats were drawn, 
scarves flung around throats haphazardly

And the snow angels danced, spinning with the crystals
of white and purity and the world feels cleansed

You say, “lay down, I’ll show you something beautiful”
I oblige, and you take the snowy ground next to me,
lace your fingers between mine…
and we make snow angel lovers

You tell me, “I want to make these with you forever”
and I tell you, “that’s how long we’ll wait for another miracle.”

in wonderland

With this red thread she can’t hold on anymore
there’s this wall between them
a wall of pain that they’ll either get over
or break heartstrings trying.

you can’t reach me anymore
is what she says when she falls into
WONDERLAND
through a small hole 
the size of her fist
and strategically placed
in her back yard.

He searches because he’s sorry
that she’ll never be able to sleep again
without the sound of his voice
whispering sweet “I love you’s”
and begging her to calm down.

She falls because she doesn’t know
the way back up
or that going back up is even and option.

She knows she’s not Alice,
but the promise of never hurting again
seemed far too good to pass up.

He’s not the white rabbit
but he’s late for a very important date
and he knows he’s too late to reach her.

All he remembers are her last words
the only thing that can carry him home.

Bubbles

Floating in mid-air, round, simple, clear
we’re caught in a bubble, a small little circle
of love, life, and all the simple things
you’re my world and you don’t know it.

It’s so easy to fall in love with you
you’re patient, sweet, full of :heart:
and I miss you when we go into those
two separate ways, headlights facing apart.

I can’t begin to describe how hard it is
to stretch a bubble without breaking 
the heart.

identity poem


 i think in lyrics
    they fall from my lips like rain.
    i think in waves of light, color, love.
    i am what, who, where i am.
    i am a rainbow, spectrum of light.
    i bend, the lighter side of him.
    perhaps, but the darker your shadow
    the closer you get to the light.
    i am vibrant
    making my own light because i am farther.
    i wish i were darker so i could be close
    to the warmth.
    alas, i am but vibrancy.

& all my poetry is about you.

The Night the Stars Fell

TW: sexual assault, child abuse

We’re moving and it’s dark and warm
I feel safe, but only until we stop
the fear sets in and I
c
a
n
’t
scream because of the tape
and I can’t
r
u
n
because…

The trunk opens 
and light pours into my
safe darkness
and I’m not safe
or alone…
anymore.

I squint, blinded by the bright lights
and I can’t see his face, but I know
it’s a question they’ll ask later
at the hospital.

They’ll also ask what he did to me
where he touched me
if he hurt me
at least…
that’s what happens on TV.

On TV they always catch the bad guy.

His hands are on me and
I’m scared, I don’t want him to touch me
but everything is going so fast
his arms hold me as I struggle
and he tells me “it’ll be quick”
because he only “likes ‘em live the first time”
I feel sick.

He takes me in a house
it’s dirty and dust is everywhere
it smells like old books and rotting wood
there’s one mattress
and I know that’s where 
I
’m

g
o
i
n
g.

Still fast.  He throws me down, tells me
“struggle all you want, I’m stronger than you”
and I know it’s true because he’s on top of me
a bundle of free, flailing limbs and he pins me.

His teeth are yellow and his
breath smells like coffee and alcohol
he tells me “I like ’em young”
I don’t respond, still flailing.

He’s wearing glasses and his cheeks are red
and his eyes are black as coal, his nose has a wart
and he got Star too, but she didn’t make it because…
he likes younger girls better.

Star is a year older and
when he asked us our ages he seemed like
such a nice man.

He gave us balloons and told us we were
p  pp  p
r  rr  r
e  ee  e
t  tt  t
t  tt  t
y  yy  y
and every little girl wants to be pretty
just. like. mommy.

He made me watch when he touched her
up her skirt, over her legs
he told me not to look away
because it made him hot to know I was watching
I couldn’t stop crying when she screamed
he was hurting her by…

His lips are all over my body and it burns
the hatred in me and I…I can’t stop screaming
he’s touching me and using fingers and whispering
“You’re my good girl, you’re my good girl”
I’m sick.  I’m sick.

He wont stop touching me 
and he tells me “this’ll hurt a little”
and he tells me “I like it when you scream”
and he tells me “you’re so pretty”
and he tells me “a perfect little angel”
and he tells me “so innocent”
and I’m not anymore
I’m not and I…
I
I’m
not and….
I can’t stop screaming
because it hurts
and I’m not old enough
and

He tells me “I only like ’em live the first time”.