Nasty

my sister is a mess,

a slutty stained dress

with lipstick on the hem.

a map of all her men,

smudges where their hands

have been.

my dreams,

 once seemed fulfilling

like a nine month stretch.

but now they seem intimidating

and I question them.

And a question needs an answer,

like an uneasy heart needs a test.

while slutty dresses need attention

and a whore needs plenty of rest.

 

written sometime in spring 2014

joy is tricky or is that sticky?

I sit in the shower,

stand in the bath.

you can think it's weird,

I'm okay with that.

you shook all the fruit

off my tree.

left me naked,

a lock with no key

my walls are scribbled

with crayon,

but sticky with love.

my prison is also my joy.

tricky, tricky, tricky.

life pulled one over on me.

 

written sometime in spring 2014

Stockholm Syndrome

I gave you space.

And you ran with it.

too little too late.

Let's not make the same mistake.

I hung myself on your words

But I wake up

and let the curtain drop

Bare feet on the hardwood floor

And if you came to me again

I would stand before you

Just as I am

Naked and plain

Don't care if I look pretty or not

No contoured cheekbones

nothing painted or lengthened

or propped up

no smoke and mirrors

my flawed self in it's entirety

stripped down to my bare necessities

raw animal nature possessing me

A plain Jane.

Just space.

Run with me.

 

written July 4th 2014

Squeaky Floorboard

I walked off quietly

into the night

A grasshopper's shadow

A pissed out flame,

knowing fully

it would leave you

unsatisfied

Leave you empty

Craving drama

A desperation dance

in a dimly lit room

A squeaky floorboard

Sorely avoided

it's been stepped on too many times

woken children

silenced gossip

A boy who cried wolf

but never followed through

A rotten apple with nothing to do

except rot

in a special spot

quietly into the night

you're not worth

a scene.

 

-written June 20th 2014