Friday, November 18, 2011

This star is your little heart
A moonlit whisper, a satin string,
A bed of Queen Anne’s lacing

(i'm four months pregnant
- thank you Jesus)

Thursday, November 10, 2011

no time. 

Should I discover you
In by and bys
Marking up my skin
Pulling roots to own the earth
Within these wintry hands
A ballerina shall turn again
Near my fading gravity

Should I simply run so far
To exhale my very agony
Like black smoke from a
Rusted train 
Taking up the sky
Finding a bluebird’s heart
As she soars like a ribbon, leading to you

Should I ever be found
Apart from this world
Like a divided locket
Dangling near the sea
Wondering on things that will
Never, ever be
Let me live this way!

For I have a broken heart
-        I have a broken heart
don't they know they can not
fix it?

This wound will never heal
But for resting.