A Sunday That Isn't, Really

Petals crash onto the marble-tiled floor --
A broken plan made of shattered love.
The color of spring stains the ground
and washing it away would only erase the sting.

When water floods my view
am I watering the blossoms in my chest
or diluting a poisonous concentration
meant for only me to drink?

My dear, we are falling
upside down, so maybe it is flying,
but that doesn't change the fact
that I feel like I'm falling sometimes.

I never thought that the Strokes could make me cry,
but today they did.
Static creeps above the silence
and I breathe to kiss it away.

Cabin Fever

It doesn't have to be like this

and I want to find where it's different.

I live in a world where in a matter of hours

I can cross at least three oceans

And emerge on the other side of the planet.

Sun-faded

There's something about Southern California that
makes you feel as if you aren't missing anything.
But, I think that may be the problem,
that sometimes the palm trees and ocean breezes
function more as blindfolds than escapes.
In that case, ignorance is what it is, not bliss.

There are days when I wake up and the sun
leaks through my apartment window and I'm
not upset that it woke me up but instead I'm upset because
I want to be woken by the smell of rain on freshly mowed grass,
And watch the raindrops on the pane as they race each other,
Slipping down the condensated glass
and finally forming one puddle at the bottom.

Desert plants are hard, sharp, with pointy edges,
and deciduous plants are soft, fluffy and lush.
Sometimes I feel sun-faded here,
And my thirst can't be quenched by the saltwater
that is gorgeous but draining. Sometimes I want to taste
the water that falls from the sky and have an excuse to
wear rain-soaked clothes. Even though it's uncomfortable,
the relief of changing into fleece sweatpants after running
from the bus stop into my overpriced student housing
makes me feel something that I can't begin to really explain.

I want to wake up with the rain falling on a tin-roof
in a warm apartment, with the window open only ever-so-slightly
so that I can feel the crisp air and bursts during the
moments when the breeze picks up. I'll close my eyes and
breathe and understand better the feeling of making a home.

Baby Fat

I've always wanted a flat stomach
but today I learn to love the little flab
of skin above my womanhood that refuses
to be gotten rid of no matter how many
reverse crunches and mountain-climbers I complete.
This little flab is a reminder of my resilience
representing years of dinners that consisted of pasta
and homemade bolognese, not really knowing
at the time that this choice was subsistence and not
nutrition because the grocery bill totaled half as much
when my mother made this choice for our family.

No Captain

Synths slip and soothe my sleepy soul,
Seeing the soon-to-be stages,
Swaying side-to-side,
side-by-side,
Suddenly serene and surrounded by sound

We Flew to the Forest

I’ll always remember how it felt when we went.
There was never a need to take a photo,
The things we can remember from a simple scent.

Snug and burrowed, stuffed in sleeping bags, cozied up in a tent,
the diamonds danced on the ceiling, kissing good-night.
I’ll always remember how it felt when we went.

Smothered flames left smokey pungence to document
our marshmallow-covered lips in wholesome talks
The things we can remember from a simple scent.

We traipsed through the wood with unknown intent,
Lush grass, damp moss beneath bare feet...
I’ll always remember how it felt when we went.

The glacial water pounded my head ​— crisp, pure and hellbent.
We floated below, shivering but untroubled.
The things we can remember from a simple scent.

There will likely be few times when I will be feeling more content 
than when I escaped to the forest with my two favorite people. 
I’ll always remember how it felt when we went.
The things we can remember from a simple scent.

Welcome

Set free, engulfed by notes, opaque and blue,
They drift and flit about, unhinged and bold.
I’m small, alone, inclined to rest but there
Is more to night than sleep. I sway and twirl,
Consumed by thumping, BUM-bum, Wub-wub bass.
Closed eyes, I see the beat, the pulse, waving,
Fluorescent lines drawn by awareness to
Sonorous rhythm. Eyes sewn shut, I am
Absorbed in deep vibrations fashioned by 
A faceless one above the crowd. Champagne
Exhales and sour hazy breaths exhaust
The fleeting pain, inured by booze and bass.