The chain is on my door.

I hope the honey
stings you
through your sweet lips.

I pray the corset fits
to steal your breath
from within your chest.

I beg of life
to crack like thunder
my face with each kiss.

I wish for justices
that punish every dream
see me touch another.

I owe you nothing
of kindness for you
there is no more.

My own perfect world.

What happened to the clouds

I watched through the van,

strawberries tumbling up 

my straw on a blanket.

What ever came of 

putting me in a box

instead of on a shelf?

Why do I feel colder now

than in a Ponderosa freezer

when I of all people

despise the heat?

Did I not say that this was

not what I wanted to happen?

Were you listening to me then?

Are you now?

Is your Tom-Tom telling you

to take a different route

to avoid a hazardous zone?

I'm not good.

I get scared.

I panic.

I don't know

much.

Perhaps someday I'll be better-

good enough for you-

for everyone.

Maybe

in my own

perfect world.

Homemade Lemon Pie

I love lemon
but only when I know
it's something sour
I'm getting into.
When I want an apple
and instead the bitterness
tricks me and worms itself
into my mouth
I am not amused.

For far too long
I was the lemon's fool-
begging for sweetness
and getting only puckered.
I am ashamed
and disgusted
not with the thing that is
being only what it knows
to be
but for how I allowed myself
to carry on
foolishly
like a daily beaten dog.

I was not your mistake,
lemon,
you were mine.
I tried everything;
baking you,
drinking you,
crushing you,
but my kitchen
was never home to you.

So now
all there's left to do
is be done with you.

I sit in my shade
enjoying my nectarine,
how sweet it is.

Me too

The man in my speakers
said it's been nearly ten years
since you were
kidnapped by angels and wisked
to heaven before playing
"I miss you".

Has it really been that long,
Aaliyah?
I don't wanna let you know
either.

I understand their grief,
those you left.
I too feel robbed
of things departed-
lurking in the shadows-
once having claimed it
was all they had.

What have I now
to hold onto of yours?
Thank God I don't know.
It would kill me to know
how often you watch
and read my thoughts
as freely as I once
was able to read yours
when I looked at you
and said

"Me too..."

The fisherman's riddle

I sit here
on the shore
wishing I had
a boat
so that I could
go anywhere
and fish the shore.