|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Southern UtahAs a child I was sewn from sparse trickles
of dry riverbeds, sandstone sediments, and deep
soul searing heat.
And I find to this day I’m a product of rust red sand
that burns my blood, skin, and the soles
of my feet.
My native land, ravaged with desert thunder
and flash floods, is a fragrant valley of memories
old and fresh.
If one has never felt the heart-skittered feeling
of love, they need to spend some time
in southern Utah.
Lightthrough your lighthearted humor
and rich, charismatic laugh
I am drawn to laugh with you
and made happy.
because of your damn good taste
in music, I have songs that pulse
with power and make me dance
away my pain.
through your deep, magnetic voice
with a flow like liquid steel
negativity flees away
and I listen.
because your light comforts me
on restless days and chilling nights
I can say, with love,
you’re my hero.
Flower BedsIn the field of my mind
plump waxen roses
reflect Caribbean reefs
while swaying with the winds
of my passions.
I like to think someday
there will be marigolds
something more practical,
but for now my garden overflows
with roses, and all the thorns
how to stay sane in the real world1.
you don’t know who you are
not yet, or not well,
so keep a small book around,
for clues and for notes.
write when you’re frustrated,
sad, upset and uncertain
even when your words seem
in someone else’s voice,
and one day, when you read it
it will all blend together
and be yours.
remember your family DOES love you
forever, and true,
even if sometimes they hurt you
senseless with words
and you swear that they hate
the fact that you breathe.
real love makes you bleed
as it does make you fly,
and you must learn
to love right, in this way
all the time.
don’t panic, not ever,
even when anxieties
pump your blood to your mouth.
let your family
your lovers support you
but learn to trust yourself.
because while they give you strength,
you are your savior.
stay calm and your answers
will find you.
know that happiness
dusts the palms
of your hands.
I Love You So MuchI love you most in the late softness of the afternoon
when we feel like warriors breathing freely
after battle, working steadily
but relaxing, because we won the day
and we’re finally safe.
I love you most when we’re alone in a room
at a table, across from each other, when you’re working
and I’m working, and no words
I love you most when you smirk at me, when
I watch it gently curve into a smile,
one that ignites your intense dark eyes
with the warmth of colliding stars
before swallowing them into your skin.
I love you most when you show me your heart
when its nervous, passionate rhythm
beats under the palms of my hands,
like a jeweled light linking your lifeline to mine
I love you when you’re reserved, ridiculous
for your funny faces, your voice
and every power
I love you for all this
and infinitely more
I love you so much.
I Am Not a Winter FlowerMy status as any kind of winter blossom
was threatened when I soaked too long
in a molten, early spring sun.
As a child I had thought to ask someone,
“if blossoms take in too much sun
do they burn?”
Yes. Yes they do.
One warm, snowy night my roommate said,
“You are the bravest person I know.”
“You are also the strongest.”
Love and confusion warred in me
at the truth staring simply from her shadowed eyes.
How could that be? I’m crumbling here.
My ashen petals are littering the ground you walk on.
Somewhere Out ThereI want to get away from here
go somewhere new, somewhere big
where it’s still easy to lose yourself
but not in another person.
I’m tired of being the comfortable
small town girl, and I
don’t want that anymore,
don’t want to take
the easy way out anymore.
I want to take a different kind of chance,
want to move somewhere
where I know no one
and no one knows me,
where there’s no excuse to give up
no excuse to run away.
I’m so sick of loving others
more than myself, sick of it
never being enough, doing enough,
I’m sick of mechanic self indulgence
and of this constant heartache.
I want to rip it out of my own chest
and to make it burn alive.
I’m sick to death of feeling lonely
in crowded halls, on city streets,
sick of finding only hollow space
when touching loved ones,
between the words of books I read,
at the heart of everything I learn.
I’m sick to death of not understanding.
I want to understand.
DAMMIT, HELP ME UNDERSTAND.
Things That Make Life Worth LivingPeanut butter smoothies,
the taste of tea, drops of honey
Good books with soft covers,
video games, a dear friend’s laugh
Fingers tangled with yours,
purring cats, iPods holding
Sunlight through the trees,
movie nights, big hugs so tight
they mark you.
Hot perfumed baths,
deep, slow kisses, and of course
reading and writing poems.
Poem About SleepI took a class on the ancient and modern novel,
where the professor was fond of saying
how important food and sleep were
in the works of Dostoevsky and Homer.
After we read in The Odyssey how Penelope
cried herself to sleep in her chamber
he said, “It’s amazing how much better
just going to sleep can make you feel.”
After class I went home
and thought about this for a while.
I think the professor had it right.
When I feel I can’t stay awake in the world,
nothing’s better than the dark end of the day
when I curl, catlike, up under my sheets.
Problems go on hold when the lights go out.
My pulse keeps time with the ticks of my clock.
As my breathing steadies my anxieties
recede, like there’s soothing balm being applied
to my burns, like I’m drinking spring water
in the coarse midst of winter.
Even in the middle of the day
when I’m alone and sad and so tired
I can’t think, or when I wake up too early
dizzy from cyclones of nightmares, r
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
For KelseyMy dearest friend:
you’ve made me smile when I’ve never wanted to again
with full grins of your own that burst with glow like small planets
or Japanese lanterns, lit with incense for luck.
You know, I’ve overheated
to supernova at times, like when you sweetly took my hands
in yours and kissed me quick after a soft, slow dance
that you wrapped me into, eyes sparkling.
You’re always warm as the richest of local honey, blushing
and dripping off the ends of our tea spoons.
Thank you, darling,
for taking me into your soothing love so completely,
complementing me like lavender to hot water, even when
I’m difficult. Every woman should be so lucky
to come upon such a bright, bouncing star
in her ever open expanse of deep night sky.
Keep in Touch!