We’re dueling in the House of MirrorsHurling accusations at our selves in the other.You’re not listening, you don’t understand me. You’re caught in the crossfire as I lay siege to my defects.If you just loved me more then we’d have peace.But I’m the reincarnation of your demons. The line between us is blurry.When you stand […]

Truth is a kaleidoscope, it has many faces.It is not binary, it won’t be contained.It comes from every direction at once. Black is one face and white is anotherStealing is wrong unless your child starves.All the signs said Go but we reached a dead end.We’re in love but I don’t let him see me.The teachers taught

I am judged by the man in the sky.He has taken many facesThe face of my father, my lover, my bossHe has taken no face as God. He is my safest place, my most ruthless critic.The pendulum between states keeps me crazyI can stomach a blow from my foe,  but not from my heroI am

Three lights fall on the stage where the band is playingThey cannot pass through the musicians so they leave three shadows of each player on the wall.The view seems more honest this way than if the lights were directly overhead. In each of us there are many.  We are our selves and their negatives. When you

Why do we act like the most vulnerable person in a relationship is the losing party?Truth be told I don’t want the kind of vulnerability that’s given in the spirit of losing oneself.Is that vulnerability at all? Or is it a test? A question I’ve already decided your answer to, but need your testimony as

This tortuous yearning is not mine to holdI am a conduit for the universal energyCalled woman, pining for manSearching for herself in her loverEndlessly searching, because she is not there.

All are welcome at my table The discomfort in my gut after eating the cheesecakeThe rush of the cheesecakeThe pain of the lactose cramping my stomachThe shame at having eaten sugar againThe confidence that one slice of cheesecake makes no impactThe agony of waiting for a text from himThe warmth in remembering his acts of

I’ve read every book of loveDrank in every taleGiven myself to a hundred fantasy loversFelt their phantom kissesLaid them to rest in caves of longingI’ve watched the wells within go dryTombstones rolled up in frontI’ve felt love die in me I’ve believed in others’ fairytalesCelebrated love in all its formsYoung, old, fast, slow, long, shortGiven

I have always been taken by pretty boxes.Jewelry boxes, music boxes, dress shoeboxes, all strewn around my childhood bedroom.  Some travel with me when I move, as if they are valuables.There’s so much potential in my boxes.  Anything could be inside.  I never open them for fear of finding their insides inferior to their outsides.