Poetry

I didn’t come home last year

our game ended in June.

People and places are the same

winter left and summer came.

Did you try to say goodbye?

Were you my random cry?

When I flew through the sky

with a melancholy sigh.

I came home in winter night

and the sun rose without you

people and places are the same

but it’s not home without you.

I really wish it wasn’t true.

I don’t identify as a geek

brown hair and preppy clothes

glasses perched on my nose

lost in period novels.

I don’t identify as a geek

watching the same tv

show me on binge-repeat

recounting all history.

I don’t identify as a geek

failing math and english

scribbling song lyrics

day dreaming of what’s next.

I don’t identify as geek

I lost in genetics

I’m a broken human

I’m a work in progress.

Wearing glasses is necessity

but they’re not my identity.

Glasses don’t make me a geek.

clickity, clickity, goes her nail

type me a text to put in the mail

bold it and line it and fix it for free

it’ll save a headache for you and me

We see you Oceania,

look towards the moon!

We’re under a cloudy blanket

bit inconvenient, we sigh

history is occurring

above our heads

but we’re watching online

from our bed.

Holding hands at the county fair

belonging to a group people

being part of a story

drinking happy.

Sunshine and daisies

having a future

together forever

with my best friend.

But, there’s only one coffee cup

and friends are fictional.

Didn't work from the first day
Late to the party in all things
Sleep walking from June to May
There's no drive to dance and sing.
Sitting in her dusty box
dreaming of the other side
trying not to cut her locks
she knows it won't turn the tide.
She can change her clothes daily
She can change her hair monthly
She can change her job yearly
But she'll still be the same dolly.

It all comes out in the wash

the creases, the tainted thread

succumbing to the hellish heat

falling to the grubby floor.

We got what we wanted

a clean, bright, shiny plate

tie it in a ribbon and bow

forget the rest, no one knows.

The ground says why, why, why, why

why, five times over for truth

highlighting the creases and thread

for someone else to soothe.

Waiting in the dark

Sitting on the bench 

Not a flicker, not a spark 

Little girl behind a fence 

She can’t remember playing

She can’t remember staying

She can’t remember dreaming

She didn’t hear the screaming

Waiting for her life to begin

She missed it, happening.