Morningstar

If hope is a thing with feathers
then betray me, let me tumble 
down from grace like Lucifer.

For I no longer wish to soar
over mountains, past rivers, 
through the valleys of space
that exist between us. 

Let me cast aside pearly gates, 
live and walk among men;
close that door inch by inch. 

I'll peer through new windows 
to identify strangers, visitors, 
but I can leave the porch light on
if you find yourself wandering
and ready to come home.

The Months After It's Over (Under-edited)

Chin up, back straight, and
a smile on my face so
I can mime closure.   

Home, Unconditionally

Take my pain and joy, 
and weave them into heartbeats. 
I am yours, New York. 

The Months After It's Over

When they told me to 
make good choices, I didn't 
anticipate you. 

Fundamentally
we all want to be heard, seen, 
to know others care. 

I'm a daughter of 
the moon, the wind, and nightshade - 
not made to be yours. 

But there's so much love 
in my heart, in my bones, and 
there's still some for you. 

The Women In the Room

We can breathe in air
- hydrogen and oxygen - 
and cast out magic. 

Remind me again,
the last time you inhaled and
created beauty. 

Frankly our presence
should be a reminder that 
we're remarkable. 

Declaration of Independence

To dance is to heal,
to reflect and remember 
that you are enough. 

In the Spirit of Rebuilding Walls

I don't know how to
be anything but yours so
don't ask to be friends.

Ouch

And the worst part is, I wish for your pain. 
As much as I wish for your wellness, I wish for your pain. 
When you filleted me with the precision only someone 
who practiced, who rehearsed, who prepared, can achieve... 

Did the blade slice you the way it threaded me?
Did you, too, feel the flesh rip from your bones?
Did you desperately grasp for armor you once wore?

Because I did. 
I can't find my breastplate or my helmet. 
The weight in my chest perfectly counterbalances 
the momentum built by tumbling thoughts, and
I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm gutted, I'm ok, I'm ok. 

I wish for you to hurt the way I hurt, 
to know that your blood, too, feels colder, 
that you see the grey filter on the world around you.

And the worst part is, I wish for your pain.
As much as I wish for your wellness, I wish for your pain,
When I chose to let you in, when I chose to give, 
I didn't anticipate how much you would willingly take.