Surviving

She carries her innocence
like an open wound.
Passion stains her heart
like a fading childhood scar.

Her eyes reveal a broken past,
Alarmed by the threat of reoccurence.
Her soul hides from the memories
that haunt her every step.

She is filled
with Beauty,
And torn
by Ignorance,
Yet she survives
on Hope.

Signed, A Broken Childhood

Dear Santa,

First of all,
for Christmas,
I want Daddy to not drink out of that bottle.
You know,
the gold one,
With all the fancy letters?
I want him to have milk,
like me.

Second,
I want Mommy and Daddy
to act like the ones on TV,
Hugs and kisses and all.
Daddy says he loves her,
and that its all just
out of love,
But I don't get it.

I would REALLY like it
if Daddy hugged me,
Not hit me.

But maybe I'm too old for that.

He said I was too old for my Mickey Mouse stuffed animal,
so he threw it away-
Can I have a new one?

But most of all,
can you make him say,
"I Love You."
Only once,
Please?

If it's too much,
I understand.

Desire Is Two Sharpened Pencils

It's only a draft, I'm still working on it.

Desire is two sharpened pencils,
Full of potential for excellence,
Yet if pushed to the side
Will simply collect dust.

Over time desire will not rot
Like a once shiny apple.
Desire will sit and wait, and wait, and wait
Until the say it is picked back up,
And you know
That something spectacular will come out of it.

Desire can change from its original intent.
It can be looked over, revisited and revised.
Yet somehow, when you erase it and try to write over it,
What used to be is still visible
Ever so faintly in the background.

Finally, desire is under your control.
It can't do things without your fingers gently molded around it,
Meticulously controlling its every move.

Others can write over desire,
Smudge it,
Say that it just isn't as neat as pen.
Because pen is solid, concrete, and it doesn't have the room for change,
Or the risk of going down hill.

Yet you still hold onto it,
Even if you throw it in the bottom of your purse,
It's still there.

Desire can be broken by two frustrated hands
Or chewed on by nervous teeth.
But in the end,
It never lets you down.

Dream

Dream

Speak without judgement.

Act without consequences.

Live without limits.

For All The Things That Make You Smile

For All The Things That Make You Smile

I am for a slightly burnt backyard barbeque

On a Sunday afternoon.

I am for eight hour car rides

And static on the radio.

For singing off key.

I am for a midnight movie in the living room

With a carton of chocolate ice cream.

I am for best friends on a pull-out couch,

When late night whispers reveal you.

For smiling without reason.

I am for a young couple's leap of faith,

Who thirty years later still hold hands

To watch the sun set.

I am for decorating a christmas tree,

Lighting a menorah,

Or however else you so choose to find faith.

For believing you can change the world.

I am for being broken down and torn to shreds,

And then built back up

By the ones who care.

I am for the rose gardens in the park

That everyone loves,

And for the single flower in the sidewalk crack,

That only one sees.