Poetry

Hidden Flowers

It’s time to flower now.

You’ve been waiting a long time, I know.

And it’s scary, revealing who you really are.

 

It is.

 

You don’t know how people will perceive you.

 

They’ll wonder

which you

is really you.

 

Which you

is the one they’ll like most.

 

For those who love the illusion,

your blooms may be devastating.

For those who really want to see you,

your blooms

will be breathtaking.

 

So flower,

true and strong.

Poetry

Lazy Afternoon Rambles

As the week comes to a close

and our schedules open up

to be the holes that form notes

in a music box’s song,

 

I hold out my hand

so we can touch palm to palm.

 

It would be a waste

if we didn’t use this time to spark

 

off each other, mind to mind,

whether it takes a stroll in the mist

or an afternoon melting into the sofa

 

with words tumbling over each other

from the waterfalls that we call lips.

 

Stand with me, my friend,

and let us be.

Poetry

The Edge

The edge can be twisted,

it can be turned, rotated and up-ended,

spun around and spun well,

and yet

 

and yet

the face that you seek,

that ease of smile

and crinkle at the corner of their eyes

can still be on the furthest side.

 

But if you unfold the cube

instead of contorting it

the smiles and crinkles

will naturally rise.

Poetry

Me; you

I want you to see me

I want you to see me in all of my forms

 

when I’m ecstatic

and can’t stop grinning no matter how serious everyone else is

 

when I’m in a rage

and want to break things to vent my fuming energy

but usually end up silently cursing because I’m at work

 

when I’m overwhelmed

by everything and shut down inside

losing interest in just about everything until my energy returns

 

when I’m so excited

by something that you hear every detail six

times over and begin to get a little excited yourself,

even though you have no personal interest in what it is

 

I want you to see me

when I understand

 

I want you to see me

when I don’t

 

I want you to see me

without the act

without the walls

without the white lies that say I’m okay

even as I’m falling away inside.

 

I want you to see

me