my hair is no color in the dark (written at midnight)
if we move to vermont
i wonder if some other girl might choose my bedroom because it's
blue the color of the ocean.
might as well dye the carpet if it means the house won't sell, and you know
my blue hair didn't fix me.
girls here ignored it anyway--they don't wear their collars up.
they don't dress in darks but they gob on mascara and pull their buns so tight
you don't have to wonder where open mindedness went.
it's in there cinching somewhere.
their hair is blond and brown and red and light, even though it's not sometimes
and belonging is a construct but they've got it constructed as an add on to their homes.
but if i move to vermont, i'll have to box up the black shirts and the pink in the same box
i'll have to use the dye or leave it for some other girl who wants to drown in
blue the color of the ocean
blue the color we paint the chesapeake bay over
brown the color we see the chesapeake bay as
they'll never see me get into college,
raise my longest finger at graduation and i'll splatter my cap and gown with
i'll never ever be changed
i'll never ever be kissed
i'll never ever belong in one place
and if i move to vermont with my faded blue hair i wonder if it'll be easy to forget
the way me and him talked about picking flowers on the water
the way he said my flower was a daisy
if i move to vermont i'll bring him a bouquet on the way out of state,
(blue the color of the ocean)
dye the water
(blue the color of the ocean)
and if i move to vermont maybe it'll be a second chance to be all alone again.
I have four absences in Week 2.
I have school on my birthday, instead of a three day weekend.
I have to check my oil still, and have procrastinated.
I still have to apply for financial aid and keep forgetting.
I feel the dreadful despair of winter upon me.
All of that is fine.
But, if the goddamn Wifi cuts out one more time, I swear to all gods that ever existed and that ever will exist, I will lose my fucking shit.
you ever notice
holds all the seasons
as you get to know
"i feel you".
but you feel you.
and i feel me.
and it feels
and i feel
a warm pastels
kind of morning,
and lukewarm tea.
we are living in a castle built of paper
and it's hanging on its strings
oh it's waving in the wind.
what is disgusting about humans
that we are so scared of our
failing to imagine how small we are...
we create problems,
we claim to be extraordinarily intelligent,
and in control of everything,
that we call ourselves
the crown of creation
or even believe
that we are all
As I stretch, the wind
Giving in, I soar!
At The Coffeehouse
not with someone else,
with me. Describe it.
Have a say.
That will do for now.
And will you be practicing what you preach?
If this is the year of hell, I hope next year is heavenly.
I smile with inner bliss, on seeing your face
I give thanks that we are here at last
morning coffee in the glow of a golden sunrise
content in this moment, I bask
We weathered the storm through many dark nights
growing closer despite all the pain
now my heart takes an europhic leap of joy
when breakfast made, you call my name.