this is what I thought of

when I thought about my sunny Vienna days:

sitting on a wooden bench in a train station

just sitting,

no tickets in my grubby hand.

I am again

entranced

by the cadence of everything:

the rickety tracks

the whistle

the clickclickclick of the suitcase’s wheels.

I am in love with the inky black and white page set before me;

I can see those faded watercolors,

all pastels and soft reds and blues and grays,

like the ones in my grandmother’s children books,

slightly worn.

and I watch the girl

-that girl-

who is waiting by the train

and I like the fact that she has a suitcase but no map,

whose crisp lines wouldn’t agree with watercolors.

I like the way she is standing

her chin straight ahead

twirling the fifth button on her jacket,

and I like the way she has sun in her eyes and toes in her boots.

I think she is the girl I would be

if I had tickets somewhere.

but then again,

I don’t,

so I go and sit in my marigold kitchen,

feeling the cool granite underneath my thighs,

and pour a cup of water from a pitcher I keep in the icebox

and write more poems

and think less about tickets,

because I suppose I punched mine on the way to Vienna anyway.

the walls that separate you

and me

are pink and candy-scented.

pretty swirls and loops,

the jagged boundaries stab into our hearts;

the blood tasting like maraschino cherries on top of the vanilla ice cream

we eat so fast that

our brains can’t function anymore.

cause if we let ourselves think

we would realize that this salty sweet ocean we’re kissing in

is made of the blood

we can’t keep losing

for much longer

I drown in possibilities, in dreams

paradise stinging hot-sharp on my tongue

s l i p p i n g a w a y

fading to ashes— and

today, the night is too loud.

i can’t see anything.

they ask me in their well-conditioned voices, are you okay? and i don’t know

why but for some reason i feel compelled to reply yes, i promise every time. i think

it’s because no one actually cares as much as they pretend. and i don’t know what i would say if they did. because i haven’t felt okay in a while

honestly, i’m not sure i’ve felt

anything in a while

this is the

softest war

i have ever fought.

my weapons are

sunrise

sunflowers

cups of

peppermint tea.

since i cannot fight you with

swords

guns

i am fighting you with

car windows

down

and music

swallowed

by the wind.

my battleground,

my body

my home.

this is the

hardest war

i have ever fought.

I am almost there,

but not.

I ask for patience,

but I am not.

I hate,

but really don't.

I love,

but change my mind.

I do what is wrong,

but like it.

I do what is right,

but am ashamed of it.

I receive,

but do not give.

I hurt,

but do not help.

I change,

but come back quick.

I am almost there,

but not.

I am confused in the mind,

but can think straight through.

I am the opposite of what I should be,

but do not try.

I am thriving,

but dead.

I am a broken soul,

ready to be fixed.

I am almost there,

but not.

one day

we’ll run into each other

at the supermarket or

something

i hope the rain will be pouring

a perfect alibi for my tears

even as the years pass

i will never forget you

as much as i breathe fire

to turn my heart into ash

as much as i grow thorns

to cage my heart inside

still, i am vulnerable and weak

because you will forever be my ghost

please

let it be raining

i feel pain

when the flowers

wilt,

though others

may say

it is not comparable

to the falling

tree,

i feel them

just the same.

Dark brown curls

bouncing

on her shoulders

she ties them back

with a ribbon

remember

when she was

just a little thing

as wild as those curls

who believed me

when i said

baby you're beautiful

now she paints

a different picture

of herself

for anyone save me

and goes into

hiding behind

dark brown curls

remember

when she'd hold my hand

as we crossed the street

write me love notes

and i'd sing her to sleep

now she's embarassed

to be seen with me

it hurts to think

one day she'll leave

to make her mark

on the world

i'll stay alone

remember

dark brown curls

my sweet baby girl's.