wishlist

a place to rest my head
that feels like home

the sun in your mouth
rose and fell
with each utter
of sleepy breath

the world is beautiful
people are beautiful

no matter what
         no matter what
                no matter what

it is difficult to convince yourself to feel something
that you are still trying to fully believe in
erratic is my middle name
and I am trying to make it beautiful
trying to convince myself
it is okay
to still
still 
not be able
to be still
to feel too much
and too little
dejection
does not want to be seen
does not want to be recognized
and becomes more appparent
I feel it in the way that I speak
the way I stretch the o’s at the end of every hello
the way I play with my fingers
the mannerisms
I’m scared to let out too much
and too little make words build up in my throat
remember it is always polite to swallow
things just got pretty complicated
say it with a smile every time and they will nod
as though these five words are sufficient enough
I am happy
I am happy
other feelings like to mix their way in too when they get lonely
everyone gets lonely
but there is no vacancy for feelings
that turn all the lights off
illumination
I promise I am bright inside

slowly but surely
said the moon
awaiting the next eclipse
ships will sink by harbor
drowning in the stars
saltwater
swimming through your veins
until you glow inside
for all the quiet seas

I trust this world
from the bottom of my
squeaky wooden heart
to break me
as much as it has to
until there is only dust
heaving in and out
of tired lungs
break me
break me
break me
and remember
to put everything
back together
as you found it

I like piles
of dried leaves
especially the ones
that don’t crunch
they are even more special
too afraid to make a sound
in a world so large
yet still willing
to strip their skin
and bear the cold
in silence

these dreams are prisoners
freed when fulfilled

it is okay to feel lost in a crowded room
or find silence in the loudest of conversation
or solace in absence
bare feet on freshly vacuumed carpet
makes me happy
as though I can walk a bit further
warm bed sheets
on saturday morning wrap me up
in conviction
that it will be okay
have you noticed
the light stays yellow
just long enough
for you to make it through

the stars didn’t say anything
the night you reached over
grabbing chunks of the sky
and rubbing it onto yourself
as if you would glow
like wildfire
luminescence
cannot be seen
but heard
and I wonder
I wonder
what the stars
sound like

I am not the nights long ago crying in bed
I am all the mornings after

today at work
the kids handed to me
a building block
saying it was a bomb
and to blow myself up
I asked why
would I do that
and one said
because you want to—
it was the first time
I did not know
what to say
to a smiling
five year old
boy

they would pick all the flowers from the garden
and watch them wilt

there is an ache among your insides
that never asks permission
devouring the immmunity
as you dream through slumber

matched with the frosty air
of dishes and glass
left at the dining table
of a meal
that has no end

this morning
it was bright and sunny
the pavement now
is dark
splotchy grey
that is exactly
how it happens