Day 42: honest

some nights

i am honest

but most i lie

tell myself

that she sleeps soundly with her head above her pillow

dreams of lillies

or peace

yes she dreams of peace

but i wonder

on honest nights

what was the scene in her last nightmare

was it my face

does she imagine a scene with my bear palms breaking through her chest

thinks that maybe one morning i woke up saying "today ill break a heart for breakfast"

i have broken the best thing that ever happened to me

and i no longer have the heart to fix it

this morning i tried so hard to lie

but honesty was plastered in my dreams

this morning i woke up whole

and never felt so horrible for it

.....

im sorry. i haven't yet figured out the ending

Day 41: Sunday

i made a commitment to make sundays uplifting poem day :) so this one is for greg corbin

On Sunday

the sun rises like backwards candle-wax

children are reborn into pews

the salt in the air run thin these days

makes its easier to taste a smile on your own lips

my grandmother has slept in her ash, ocean side every day for the last 10 years except on sundays

where i find her awake between gods pages

there is a reason why even after saturday nights i wake up at 8 to visit a jesus i believe in

because i believe in his father

and i believe his father loves my grandmother and i believe in dreams

the kind that put us to sleep when we need them to

and make sure we dont sleep in past following them

i believe in your breathe

and that god sits in that space between your heart and your chest

i believe in miracles that arent prayed for

like surprise visits from old friends

when you need them

i believe in sundays

and that even though m-s could have been the worst week of my life

sunday will still shine

sunshine will still rise

sunday will still pick me up from my back and smile

and i, will greet her every single time

with grace

Day 40: speechless

i dont want to say i love you anymore

everything i love breaks

melts like butter

moves too quickly form my fingertips and leaves only stains behind

i do not want to say it

so i wont

i'll hold it in my bones like our blood holds oxygen

just to survive

i need to keep my love to myself

its been fleeting for so long

i need it to keep standing

i need you to keep standing

i need to keep standing

i do not want to give myself away anymore

not to late night drives

or college goodbyes

not to best friends

or girlfriends

i want to hold myself in this space behind my walls that i had forgotten i built before i met you

i do not want to say i love you anymore

so in my silence

sing yourself to sleep

my words will no longer have a frequency

i will not speak

i do not want to say i love you anymore

and im not sure if i can keep that between split lips

so from now on, ill just be speechless

Day 39: vinyl

she has proven in her actions

that i am only truly beautiful enough for love when i am broken

only desirable when i am in too many pieces to hold in two hands

i was hauled away into love while shattered and then dropped at my own doorstop when i was too easily held

to conformable

too much healed

and i am not yet shattered

but i think she believe that is she breaks me she might love me enough again to fix me

darling, my heart is not that simple

its beat is not perfect it scratches like vinyl against the inside of my chest

it follows no metronome other than its own

i know i am new to this feeling

but i like being hole

and i cannot break myself again for your happiness and comfort

i cannot play this game of go away dont leave me

i cannot handle the similarities

i understand im the one who fucked up first

but you said you would wait for me to grow

and when i did you realized that if i am bigger than you, you dont actually want me.

Day 38: i want to go back

i left my poetry in columbia

along with my pride, love and sweat

where new friends become family

from late night experiences

i hold memories like big sisters i never had but always wanted

i wish i could go back

but i know, i can only keep moving forward...

DAY 37:LEAVING BOGOTA IN 3 HOURS AND IM STILL DRUNK

no one ever wnats to be THAT girl

that one drunk of her own regrets singing songs like pastimes to slured crowed of friends.

last night i danced the streets of taxi cabs and 18 legal drinking ages

picked pokets of vodka and beer

spilt wine on my pride multiple times

i was THAT girl

surrounded by women too beautiful to be friends

trading advice and stories like elementary boyfriends

spoke of u-hauls and mistakes

and how to break hearts gently

but i ws THAT girl

and it fucking rocked!!!

Day 36: jamaica drunk in bogota

we swallow until we are drunk

make our gaydar crocked until we are the worst wing women who every existed

look at the beautiful women

in bogota

women seep into your skin like secrets

and you hold them there as long as you can

until the sweat removes their memory

we have intociated conversations

and send drunk text messaged to journals
we write poems about love

how it isnt always a feeling

sometimes its touch

and sometimes its something you can witness

from the sidelines

drunk off your ass

Day 35: looking

Prompt: "grab the closest book to you...

Go to the first page and find the 12th word (that world is the title of your poem)
-Then turn to page 52 of the book, look up the 9th sentence and that sentence will be your first line.
-Then write from there"

Looking

"i couldn't believe she couldn't see the ugliness..."

how my skin was torn from the inside out

and my heart

only kept beating to fracture ribcage

how my lungs

were the only part about me beautiful enough to replicate themselves

some days i can close my eyes and see the ugliness

without looking

i place my hand on my soul and can taste its bitter sting

somedays

im looking for questions that i already have the answers for

somedays i am looking

searching

trying to be beautiful

without changing

trying to change

without being too beautiful

i am looking for my peace

i want my skin to speak of the terror that my bones keep

i am looking for that marrow that creeps through blood like nursery rhymes

wondering if my heart will ever beat for progress

or if it will just keep beating me down.

Day 34: I am not Dreaming

she sleeps on my skin like terror

sweat

crawls upwards like secrets

i do not know how to hold her

i do not want to sleep with her tonight

maybe tomorrow would be better

for this kind of tingle

i'm in this bed alone and she is beside me

in my mind

leaves me naked alone every time

crawls on top of me

i am pinned

stuck

seduced to this reduction

she holds me captive

like bondage

but there is nothing sexy about the taste she leaves behind

the reaction glued to my face daily

in these streets, every morning is a walk of shame

when you are afraid to walk these street

and sleeping is only comfort to the mind until dreams realize their control over the mind

she holds me captive

and i am not dreaming

i am not sleeping

i am making love with fear

she drinks each drop of sweat

grows stronger

as i grow more and more ashamed

day 33: (from a Columbian hotel) fear

there is no need to sit below the windows here

our building towers the street

and yet

we still try to wipe the riches and american from our skin before we step outside this hotel

there are too many rules to be learned

like fear

i am not used to the excellerated heartbeat that comes with overcrowded cities

i wonder if they teach this fear in kindergardens here?

like it belongs in our hearts and that its normal

my soul is already to full

i cant seem to make it fit

i am terrified of the sweat that comes with it

i feel weak here

helpless

and wonder if the ones whove allowed roots to spurt through these streets

if they find an inevitability in these feelings

they do not suppress it, instead use it to propel forward

and im stuck between a gun and a hard place in my mind

i cannot walk here without feeling like i am being followed

and i miss my freedom

Day 32: Contradiction

She was raised a contradiction

Pink dresses and hat Sunday morning

Keep your curls clean

And body slam Mondays with brothers 5 times her size

She was raised a contraction

Strength spilling from her skin from morning to sundown

But at nighttime

Fear had a way of drowning her from the inside out

Scared of night

There are not fist fights in dreamland

No one ever wins

Its always broken up by the time sun break comes

And she cant handle unsolved solutions

She was raised a contradiction

Brown skin from the inside out

Darkened by language

And distaste in herself

She was born contradiction

Wishing brothers could call her brother and her blood could some how be thicker from it

She was born a contradiction and NO ONE hated themselves for it as much as she did.

Day 31: to my best friend

so i've decided im not done with my 30/30 blog. i want to keep going. it would be really cool to get 100 consecutive post or 365 posts. and we'll see what happened once i get to school and that shit but for the time being. enjoy.

so im leaving today fro columbia

right? right!

whats the point?

i know i should be excited but all i can thing about is drug lords

and poverty

and theft

and a one week premature college goodbye

its been 12 months since the last time we stood here

airport check in tables

where they'll charge you 15$ for a bag

but throw in the tears for freee

i never seem to be able to get through an airport without leaving some sort of mess behind me

i wish i was better at goodbyes

or that i believe "see you later" was a promise

i wish your future was a mirror

something i could see myself in

but the only thing reflect on is our past and the mistakes we've made

when you leave, promise me one thing...

that you'll remember what friendship feels like whole

so when we are halfed we can remember to glue ourselves back

remember to stretch and that reaching isnt as hard as it looks

and that distance is just that space behind our mirrors that no one can really measure

we just know we cant touch it

it cant be held and we fear the unknown

remember what strength feels like

and hpw your heart beats when you are home

and dont forget that staying friends forever only get hard

when you forget how to pick up the phone.

Day 30: Waiting (LAST DAY)

Twice a week

I wake to the smell of proteins slowly solidifying in syringes

Just waiting to be released

Sundays and Thursdays supposed to be after dinner but sometimes im early

It just depends on my mood or if I even feel mechanistic enough to heal

Sometimes I kill immunities in the morning

I inhale the scent of metal and sweat just waiting to press a too dull needle beneath my skin and fat

Hoping that this time

In the moments I wait between joint and medicated pain

I might find some sort of new way to move

A lot of my life is spent waiting

But not for the sting

That comes quickly

Range of motion

That comes slowly

Following

Sometimes too far behind to even draw a connection

Im wondering what level ill go to next if I ever want to play sports again

You see I want to recover

So I take medicine

Every morning and night

Not quite sure how much

Because I don’t really pay attention

But at any given time there can be up to 2k milligrams of anti-inflammatories running through veins

and 50mg of imuno suppressing proteins

I’m lucky

Because even after an auto immune disease has captures my joints

Named me arthritis

I’m still walking

And so twice I week

I take my immune system two triggers back when I release

Kill my bodies ability to protect me from the common cold, mono, or anything else that requires decent imunities

Just so that I can bend my knees??

And breathe

And because of this

I know the grass isn’t always greener

The air isn’t always cleaner

And the pain and confusion hardly ever gets any clearer

So where do I turn

Who do I look to

Because I’ve been looking inward through mirrors that

Only reflect more problems and issues that I don’t have the answers to

I’m just a teen loaded with unanswerable questions

Spending ours on commercial search engines

googling my own conditions

time-lining my own skewed existence

looking back on a life I haven’t yet lived

Twice a week

I injest these things

Two shots for whats in-between

Two shots closer to being free

I wait for health

I wait for release

I’m waiting for remission

I’m not sure when its coming

Because

I’ve heard it smells a lot less like syringes and more like peace

And yet

I’m still waiting

Wondering

When my life will step outside of the lines that’s hold only 3 days periods

When I start to live with out times restrictions

Wondering when the lines will expand to fit my whole body and life in

Without making me cut and paste strength and pain

Im waiting for the approval to live again

Im waiting for the strength that doesn’t come in a bottle of syringe

Im waiting for my body to stop being such a baby

Im waiting

Im watching

Im wishing

And I’m wondering

If the waiting

Will ever start to feel like living

Day 29: Only Duty

My first day of school my teacher wouldn’t let me us the bathroom

Not until I could ask her properly

I was 5

We shared Similar skin tones

But I was

alien

Talked with different tongues

Opposite accents

Parents are supposed to prepare their children for kindergarten

But mine

Strapped land mines to my melanin

Threw me in the deep end and told me to swim

So I tred

Taught being brown is curse,

But to wear it like pride

cultured to staple a new vocabulary to my cuff every morning

Learning words that would satisfy my cultural thirst

forget happiness

Cultural renaissance comes first

And the seeds of the sovereignty leaders trees are cut from the branches early

Surrendered to the cause

But children

Do not understand the idea of sacrifice

That prices are needed to be paid in order for anything to be saved

Only learn that self-preservation takes presidents

But are given no instrument to implement defense

So backwards in our minds

We learn to tear our own husk from our peers

How to hate from our mothers

And curse from our fathers

From whom do we learn to heal

Our grandmothers are the only ones who have learned to forgive and we cant speak the same language as them

So we race against the decay of language

But the taste of our kings words have become bitter on our tongues

Like sour poi

Rinse our mouths with our regrets

Trying to find purpose

Learning sacrifice

Is a tool our mothers teach like martyrdom

It tastes the same to us but is forced from our lips with different names

When do we learn anything other than blame

That shame is more than skin deep

And our mother cannot scrub it away before bed time

There is resentment beaten into our knee caps

Like aihaa

Sweat respect at the feet of our kumu

From muscle to memory

Follow orders

“hela”

we hela

place tired foot to cold floor board

Kahoolo

We kaholo

Jump

We jump

Practice makes perfect robots

Dance for our fathers

Our grandmothers

We learn protocol before nursery rhymes

And perpetuate cycles like wildfire

We are the sacrificed

The lucky enough to learn half dead languages but not given a choice between which tongue is split at the end of the day

And whether or not the splinters from the remains pierce or hearts or brains

At the end of the day are the two the same?

If we are the future does that mean we cannot claim our own present

I have very few regrets

Most notable being unable to love myself through adversity

While second guessing my family decision to set me on an awkward path to eduction

There is something in lifes lesson that I’ve managed to miss

Ive gone through the equation

Never able to simiply any variable to come to a conclusion

But this

Sacrifice is nothing to find shame in

Find only strength in the remains of my self esteem and the fact I made it through able to read

I find comfort in my ability to understand sacrifice

And know

That

There is rarely

Ever

Really a choice

only duty

Day 28: Anthology of Love and Heartache: Part 3, Keola

We ran the line of virginity so well

Our actions so fine

As if we were trained tightrope walkers

Two steps forward and one back until I ran too far out of reach

You couldn’t touch me if I wouldnt call you back

And I couldn’t find away to want you to

13

love seemed simple

like making out behind the cafeteria

like promised calls every night after dinner

love seemed simple

any two opposites could do it

just required sharing biology like currency

my breast for you neck

we didn’t have to talk as long as we were sharing tongues

didn’t need to admit how uncomfortable your hand on my skin was

my saliva was enough promise

Tomorrow at lunch would be redemption

and I would open my mouth just enough to let you in without releasing a scream

13

and love would never be that complicated again

Day 27: Autobiography- part 1

She walked out of her mothers womb

hands tied to her mouth

No use in crawling

crying

too busy holding herself the only way she knew how,

quietly

She found more comfort in her thumb than in her own mothers eyes

It was the first time she had been loved

It was the last time she would ever willingly be that vulnerable

Learning then

Tears only fill the gaps between family members

They do not belong on playground battle fields

The birth of a soldier

The doctor whispered to her father,

This ones got spunk

Teach her to fight

day 26: untitled

my best friend sipped on the salt of sweat last night

from a newcomers skin

never thought sex could be fun out of love

but realizes

temptation haunts even those untied

and moments cant wait for tomorrow when desire rises

i just hope shes happy in her decisions

never regrets the nights she's slept accompanied or alone

feels as much love in her breathe as ever

beauty doesnt disappear with growth

only flourishes

i hopes she still gleams in her own reflection

because if she doesnt

how can the rest of us?

Day 25:Friendship

The Pacifics made my grip slip
I've lost touch with what's solid
Friends blurr from edges of lines we weren't sure if we held or crossed like our skin
What's the diffidence between love and love?
Between held and hold dear
I Remeber what most soon forget
The taste of your breath when broken secrest speak
Of a split chest bearing secrets
A 6 day excursion to rebreak and set hearts properly
Show scars like rubies
Like there was something beautiful
you were right

Some interactions deserve more than words discription
The word frienship only fits awkwardly on my tongue
There's something missing in the shock of broken ties.

day 24: The Prologue

grab the closest book to you...

Go to the first page and find the 12th word (that world is the title of your poem)
-Then turn to page 52 of the book, look up the 9th sentence and that sentence will be your first line.
-Then write from there"

Prologue

“It was one of those werid things that no matter how much I thought of it I couldn’t come up with an answer”…

Where did we begin?

Why does this ink seems to sink further than my own veins in my skin

And why can’t I help but ask questions that I don’t want the answers to?

I was born with a pen in my hand

A split heart that made it easy to give away

I call myself broken, but only when im sure someone is looking

You see, In the dark

I don’t even exist

And this is just a prologue

The pretence

Life

Means nothing except to know how its started and ended and my ending’s blank

So here’s the birth..

Language isn’t something to learn

Its something to love

So hold it like your dying grandmother

Like you son

Hold ink in your veins for when you’ve forgotten a pen

And sometimes

Slit your wrist just to see what it looks like

What kind of poem it writes

You see

Language

Isn’t something to hold

Its something to give

So write a poem for every stranger you witness

And every lover you kissed

Write a poem for every day you missed

Give each poem a name and fly them on kite to show god how he’s made too many mistakes walking around empty handed

Language isn’t something to make

Its something to feel

So the next time you are lonely

Crack open one of your scars and let it speak about the poem in your head for the stranger standing at the corner

Speak of how her smile makes you want to cry and how you imagine what her breathe might taste like when she shares her story

Love, give, and feel your way back to feeling

And pray

that the ending will end up at least half as fulfilling as the pretence

Day23: the difference between stars and hearts

EDIT:::::

I've been thinking a lot about counting crows lately

“One crow means sorrow

Ive been wondering If anyone would ever carve my name into their skin

Better their heart

I've been thinking about slitting my wrist or splitting my soul. Wondering if there's a difference and what's worse

I touched my scarred smile for the first time today in months and was reminded of it's brokenness

How it's fake and salty and wondered how I've forgotten the taste of my own split lips

., two

two crows mean joy,

This afternoon I watched a straight couple embrace at a stoplight and I wondered when was the last time i could write myself to that space

I spent the next hour wondering what's the difference in lying in love and lying in bed

Does it taste the same

Like plastic

Like salt

When we break are we the same

Are our hearts symmetrical

Like riffle chambers

(do we ever get to pick who we shoot)

Do u ever wish you had two?

One to hide and one to show

Would that feel a little too honest for comfort

. three

three crows a wedding,

Tomorrow morning I will sleep slept on a rooftop of a strangers skin tbe reminded that I cannot marry her

Gaze at the stars and wonderhow many are already dead

Like me

A facade of light and beauty

But too distant for anyone to notice them dying

The injustice

I wonder how long my arms are

And how tired they'll be by the time I'm 30 from holding people away

Wondered

Do the broken fade or just disappear

Wondered

Do stars leave footprints or traces of the places they’ve traveled

Do they scar

Do the other stars remember them when their gone

Or are there enough to fill the darkness left

Are people like stars

Do they ever wander

Easily forgotten unless in constellations

Do the ones that make pretty pictures ever die

If I was a piece of the big dipper would I be immortalized

Shine there even after my space was filled with night

Will I ever just be a piece of someone’s imagination

Do the lights in our hearts shine when we cry

Are we all really in the sky being told to reach to something that doesn't exist

Are we ignorant or lucky for believing in it

Does god really care whether or not we pray to him or ourselves

It is all relative?

Is expecting tomorrow a sin?

Should I care that I'll probably be condemned for this

. four crows a boy, five crows mean silver, six crows mean gold

I'll spend next week wondering if I was a rooftop or an invitation

Why hearing the word curves makes me think of beautiful women but rarely gets me off

And why beauty was always in the eye of the beholder but my sight was too week to grasp anything so heavy

Like a secret

Seven

seven crows a secret that's never been told”

This morning I spent an hour and a half contemplating my own existence until I realized

If every face I give the world is fake

Then so is every breath

And if I'm not honest enough to be broken

Then I'm sure

I never really existed

I must have been born half a beat

Before my death

I will know

I was nver a star

Just a picture of something thought to shine

I was painted that color

Watched as I tried to fit somewhere it it's shadow

This evening I will shoot my soul to the moon

Wondering if planets always have to revolve around the biggest star or if the world may ever dance with me

Keep your eye on my trail

Find beauty in me, broken

Watch me,

I’m Flying..

For the first and last time…

make a wish

ORIGINAL:

I've been thinking a lot about counting crows lately

If anyone would ever carve my name into their skin

Better their heart

I've been thinking about slitting my wrist or splitting my soul. Wondering if there's a difference and what's worse

I touched my tattooed smile for the first time today in months and was reminded of it's beauty and brokenness

How it's fake and salty and wondered how I've forgotten the taste of my own split lips

This afternoon I watched a straight couple embrace at a stoplight and I wondered when was the last time i could write myself to that space

I spent the next hour wondering

When we break are we the same

Are our hearts symmetrical

Like our lungs

Do u ever wish you had two?

One to hide and one to show

Would that feel a little too honest for comfort

Tomorrow morning I slept on a rooftop of a strangers skin

Gazed at the stars and wondered how many were already dead

Like me

A facade of light and beauty

But at a distance too for anyone to notice for years

I wondered how long my arms were

And how tired they'll be by the time I'm 30 from holding people away

Wondered

Do the broken fade or just disappear

Wondered

Do stars leave footprints or traces of the places they’ve traveled

Do they scar

Do the other stars remember them when their gone

Or are there enough to fill the darkness left

Are people like stars

Do they ever wander

Easily forgotten unless in constellations

Do the ones that make pretty pictures ever die

If I was a piece of the big dipper would I be immortalized

Shine there even after my space was filled with night

Will I ever just be a piece of someone’s imagination

Do the lights in our hearts shine when we cry

Are we all really in the sky being told to reach to something that doesn't exist

Are we ignorant or lucky for believing in it

Does god really care whether or not we pray to him or ourselves

It is all relative?

Is expecting tomorrow a sin?

Should I care that I'll probably be condemned for this

I'll spend next week wondering if I was a rooftop or an invitation

Why hearing the word curves makes me think of beautiful women but rarely gets me off

And why beauty was always in the eye of the beholder but my sight was too week to grasp anything so heavy

This morning I spent an hour and a half contemplating my own existence until I realized

If every face I give the world is fake

Then so is every breath

And if I'm not honest enough to be broken

Then I'm sure

I never really existed

I am no longer wondering

I know

I must have been born half a beat

Before my death

I know

I was nver a star

Just a picture of something u thought should shine

And you painted me that color

Watched as I tried to fit somewhere it it's shadow

This evening I will shoot the moon

Keep your eye on my trail

Find beauty in my ability to show me broken

And make a wish

That maybe someday you'll be strong enough to do the same

Day 22: Whack Prompt

inspired by Ittai Wong and our radio interview last night...

"beauty is in the eye of the BEE-holder..."

beauty is in the eye of the BEEholder

and i've been stung a few times

bitten by beauty's touch

i wonder if im the only one who's felt held by in trance

baby

loving you was like gargling honey

delicious and painful

and it always left a trace to taste the next day

so ill hold a handful of stinging bitches in my hand at the chance to witness beauty the way its meant to be

painfully

without regrets

or band aids

at the end of the day

ill smile

continue my journey

with out a regret in sight

wondering only

when my next chance to be stung will be

Day 21: Adopted

3:20

My 5 year old sister

Is too smart and inquisitive for her own good

And if she asks you a question

It is in your best interest to make up an answer quick

Because idk…

Well unlike with my easily pleased friends

idk just isn’t an option

and She’s far too cute and persistent to say no to

I knew this nature of hers would one day get one of us in trouble

And being the big sister wanting to protect her

I always hoped it would be me,

but never thought it would be this hard to dig myself out of the questioning graves she dug for me

You see

I remember the first time she asked me

“MONKEY! what is adopted mean?”

and I stood

shuffled my feet trying to think of the most PC way to explain how she was brought to this family

because

as a family

we always agreed that lehua’s birth parents would not be forgotten

we would fill photo albums with pictures from her adoption

her history would not be a secret

because honestly hiding her past was not an option

but when we decided this

I don’t think we ever thought about how we would explain it

Adobtion

An 8 letter word that I think shouldn’t fit in a five year old mouth or brain

A eight letter word

with a meaning I wish I could stray form my sisters heart

I wish I could just explain that it really doesn’t mean anything

Tha In this case

Adoption is just a journey and

what matters was the destination.

Family

But I don’t know how to say this to her

And I’ve always worried that lehua’s beauty when completely grown wouldn’t fit into the facial features of my family

As just to add to our differences

I spent the last five years creating similarities

Focusing on the skills that we share

Like her athleticism, beauty and metal ability

But the truth is

That just makes her even more different than me

Because I never had that kind of thought process and physical capacity at 5

And I’ve never shined like she does

We are different

Born of different lines and extend different roots

And it scares me

Because I don’t know how to explain this phenomenon simply in a way a five year old genius can understand

Especially if I can’t make it reason in my head

And honestly

I thought I’d be lucky

Thought I’d be away at college when questions like this surfaced

But I’ve never really been that lucky

Except when it comes to lehua

You see if anyone has benefited from her matriculation into our family it

is me

You see Lehua is the only person who looks at me like im beautiful

Thinks im cool, talented and smart

The only person I know who would ever want to be anything like me

And I worry

That if I tell her that adopted mean we share no physical relation

if she’ll start to discount herself

start to think of herself as less than apart of my family and heart

so that night I tried to make sure she could stay grounded in her beauty and see what I see

but I only came up with blank expressions and confusion.

Lehua,

Lets go watch a movie?

and so lately I wish I could have thought up an answer quick enough that sounded a lot like this

just to make sure my sister would keep questioning the world

but never her existence and weather she belongs where she is

if I could I would tell her

Lehua take a seat and listen

We share a home and family

But our birth parents are different

And Its not that the woman who carried you for 9 months didn’t want you

Its that she didn’t deserve you

And even though your eyes and hair are of a different shades than mine it doens’t mean they don’t shine

It doenst mean you wont grow to be just like me if that what you want

Or more if you aspire to

This 8 letter word doenst mean anything except you different and special

Lehua remember

You were my sister before it was official

A court date and piece of paper didn’t make me love you it just gave me the chance to do it without fearing of your removal

Adobted means you are a gift from god that we didn’t expect but couldn’t be more grateful for

Adobted means you are beautiful

Lehua

Adobted means you are beautiful

And that we are lucky.

Day 20: poetry

its been six months

we still kiss like forever

if that isnt poetry

i dont know what is

Day 19: Our Garden

fresh cut grass smells like saturday afternoon sex

we slept in like the gardeners didnt know we existed

and planted time bomb kisses under skin

to be exploded

the smell of your breathe against my chest

sunrise

your touch

twilight kisses

like midnight serenades

pleasure harmonized

i wonder

will you sing with me tomorrow?

Day 18: Puzzles

ive learned

loneliness only comes when there are no hearts in reach to strangle

and we play chess with our miss matched hearts like hograwts children

just waiting to be dismembered

but ive been wondering

if the ending comes too soon

will you still remember me

or will you suffocate my face from your thoughts

give me no room to foster

do i deserve any better than that

i've never been the mess before

i've definitely been broken

never the cause

always the effect

and the only comfort i take in distance is the promise that i dont have to look into shattered eyelids too soon to know the effects of my own actions

i love you

and loved you all the way through every mistake and misplaced attention

but i dont know how to hold my owns hands in this

dont know how to feel less alone and broken when there are oceans between us

mocking our static movements

i'd like to strangle the shoreline

in hopes that the breathlessness will bring me some sort of closure

or closer

either way

take my hands away for a few days

force then to your hips and pelvis

rather than heart for once

im not sure if i know anything about puzzle pieces

other than how to tear them apart.

Day 17: cop-out

Today is my first cop-out
ive been slipping into sleepless nights lately
and the last thing i want to do is write.

Day16: broken souls

This week I've been staying at a beautiful beach house

I'm the chairwoman for a committe planing a worldwide conference called healing the spirit worlwide

And I'm still trying to figure out how someone so broken got in this position

I'm still unsure if I have a soul 

And I'm supposed to heal the world's

Great! I love preassure...

Day 15: Can we go Sailing?

With the first line

Splinting through minds and lips

Through email correspondence

I split my chest

Cut my body in two

Half for you

Take the side with my heart

Its beats only like daggers these days anyway

Beautiful to watch im sure

Be gentle

The tissue is fragile still

From the last time touched by nervous palms

You don’t have to love me to care

You don’t have to care to love me

You don’t have to do anything

Your existence is more than enough

Trust me

You don’t write so often

You make it seem easy

Like distance isn’t worth mentioning

I’ve never been so disgusted by beauty and honestly

“we are victims to distance”

I wonder what im supposed to think

Because reading has never felt more broken and confused

Im just continuing to draw boxes that we don’t fit into

I wonder am I supposed to be dry still after crossing oceans

I’ve been holding back apocalypse tears too afraid of the silence to follow

I don’t want to walk under a rainbow anytime soon

I rather stay under the gray

Black and white leave no room for the half alive

its love or lost and I don’t like my chances

Im waiting to break

Because The end is always the same

How is it we play this game like waltz too beautiful to break

When there are so many pillars and walls in the way

So many other dancers crossing our stage

This is our stage

This ink and microphone make us destine

To be something shared

To be something undefined

To be

This ink makes us destine to share something other than friendship or romance

Share pain

Like honestly

There is nothing awkward about trust

So trust me

Do not mistake the scent of it in the air for fear

This is just truth

You and I stepping on each others feet

Slow dancing in a burning room

Both trying to lead and follow

Too often crossing our own lines

So We are too afraid to speak anything other than similes

Cant Touch each other with anything other than our words

But I still have your fingerprints on my wrist

Where all writing begins

I’ve wondered if you noticed

Why are we still half standing

There is too much land

Trying to keep us from drowning in this absence

But I live close to the ocean

I need only to step beyond my own walls to be submerged

It is simple for me to sink

Natural

I think you are the one whos supposed to be able to walk away from it all

But maybe someday

We can go sailing

Meet new horizons with opens minds and hands

And maybe ill finally find myself under the salt

Beneath the sand

I’m sure ill be

Somewhere tangled in the awkward honesty we call trust

Day 14: #2

I’ve always been number two

Like that regretted tattoo

Stuck at your hip

You cant lose me and I have no say in the matter either

So what are you goona do?

Neither of this wanted this

And regret is too beautiful to be disgarded

Ill just stand there

Follow you around through heart break

But I don’t know if I can do this much longer but ill still stay there

Bite down

On pelvis

Don’t let go

We don’t have to go

We don’t have to be anything but friends

Just hold me sometimes

Take my hand when you can

Will it be okay in the morning?

Will I still remember the tears that fell last night?

Will I shrink in its sadness

Will you be there to catch me half broken and heavy?

And I don’t know if that’s enough this time

Don’t mention time

Just hold me

Tell me im not broken

Lie if you have to

Just convince me that tomorrow doesn’t just mean another handful of tears

That life is more than seeing beauty and being broken by it

Lie

Tell me that you love me and ill be just fine

Day 13: Locks, Digs, Shines

I want to leave art behind me like footprints
Like smiles on the lips of lost lovers
I’ve learned,
Sometime you can kiss through your fingertips
Leave them with tongues that cant help but remember your texture
I want to be beautiful

3 words swept over screens with only the whitewash of silence sirens following,
You are beautiful
We speak poetry with opposite denotations praying the other might catch a shining glimpse of our heartbeats connotations
She said
You are beautiful
Only as beautiful as the way we save glances before kisses in the pockets of our eyelids
We shine
The way our bodies remember the feeling of another even after it happens
We bear scars
Only as amazing as a heart intertwined with its roots
Beautiful,
Only as amazing as you
like sunsets and waterfalls
im only amazing as you paint me

I am not whole enough to be human
nor barely broken enough to be a beautiful as she promises
and she,
She stores stars in the time capsules of her kisses
And my teeth dig poems into her lips and skin
This mouth breaks everything it touches
Its caustic
I wonder if she tastes it
The shattered dust of bloody and broken pinky promises

Poets sometimes kiss like it will last
and don’t mean it
promise to be honest
thinking truth comes out easy
And sometimes it does
Sometimes we remember
And sometimes memory is forever
And sometimes it isn’t
Sometimes we just pass
And sometimes that’s just fine
Sometimes even the broken shine
But I just want to be fine
But Who’s to say whether a heart can memorize a tongues taste or not

She says she afraid to be forgotten

And She locked her lips on my tongue
Dug thumb to pelvis

i can still feel her hand clamped there
I,
I am afraid to forget

i am nothing without my memories
She reaches hand deep to my skin
deeper
Hands cold, soft still cut stories into me
I don’t want to forget

And I am never honest enough to be naked

and i've heard her speak of being a fortress but they dont stand without strong walls

i cant see through you, it scares me

maybe i was once a castle

cuz Sometimes when I kiss I cry more then smile

and castles

they were built to be beautiful

but they will always be conquered

I’ve wept at climax more times then I have laughed
My breathes are short and sharp
Piercing like the secrets we’re sharing like our bodies

Im back under her hands

her breathe

lips
Im nervous...
I melt, she locks her lips
...I’ll never make a difference
Im afraid...
I sweat, she digs her fingertips
...I’ll forget
Im scared...
I gasp, she shines
...Youll be forgotten

She says shes afraid to hurt people
Everyone that beautiful is
I say I am afraid to hurt people

Everyone this ugly is
I do not want to forget
She does not want to be forgotten

i want to paint her the color of God
So she leaves shards of her fiberglass skin hidden in my eyelids
I left nothing with her but my taste and she will surely smoke it away
And im not sure if that makes me more or less afraid

I am under her hands again

She locks

I melt
She digs

I sweat

She shines

I gasps

I promise, I will not forget