Red Lipstick

Credit: mathilde henriks

Behind red lips
hides a new girl.

She’s beautiful,
sweet, and
she wants to be.

Red lips make her
a model, a star,
and one who
lives for the attention.

When she washes her face,
removes her makeup
and red lipstick
she cries black tears.

She refuses to look in the mirror
and face the girl she used to be

Fallin’ Star

falling star colors

Once bright,
bold, and beautiful.
Now dark,
and, diminished.

Its time in the sky
has come, and gone.

It’s hard to stand out
among the millions when you’re
a tiny red dwarf.

No matter the company,
no matter the odds, shine on.
Shine like a supernova.

Without your help,
the world is darkness with:

no way home,
no escape, and
no one to shine along with

Color Me Silent


I need you
between my fingers,
within my reach.

I promise,
I won’t use you.
I’ll use you, only for me
sorry, I lied.

What you have
is what I desire,
and I’ve gotten this far
without you here.

I’ve learned to cope
with an empty soul,
color-less world,
and a meaning-less being.

What are we waiting for?

Now in my grasp;
I need you to dance.

Brush me along with you on the table
and color me silent

House of Light

light house sunrise

I’ve been searching for a lighthouse,
one on the beach,
above crystal-clear waters.

It’s the lighthouse I need
and its entire purpose
is all that I am not.

A lighthouse is never lost,
never scared, and
never lacking purpose.

Its job is to guide, bring boats
back to shore, and help the lost.

It’s the lighthouse I desire
for its ability
to make find myself, once again.

Free Fall


We change our minds
like the seasons
and try to forget
the lives of our past.

Fall makes us forget
how far we’ve fallen,
how far we’ve gone.

As orange and browns,
inevitably wither away
and leave you behind
in a pile of nothing.

Embrace your fall
and change with the seasons



Behind self-conscious translucency
the word sees me through blind eyes;
I want the world to see me
like the smoke in my mirror.

In my mirror
I’m a blank face:
no name,
no identity.

I can create my own images of
everything. Everything
I want them to see me as
everything, I want to be

On Thin Ice

They don’t know what it’s like standing on edge,
fighting for survival, living each day
without no one reason to go on.

It’s easy being human,
for they own the word, as they say.
But me, I’m just an enemy, hiding in mountains of snow,
fighting each day to see tomorrow’s sunrise.

On this block of ice is where I get away.
The excitement, and danger of peering into the unknown,
and venturing off on my own gives me a rush, one I often desire.
Hunters won’t find me here and neither will my cubs,

it’s what I need.

Sometime I wish that I could float down a stream,
get washed up on an island, and never come back.

Please get me away from the snow,
and into the sun.
I want to be on my own,
to feel what it’s like to be warm
on both the inside and out

Grey Scale


He lives in black and white,
dreams in vivid color,
believes beauty is a myth,
and existence is a curse.

He knows there is good,
submerged in darkness,
lost and looking for light.

Good is like a firefly in the night,
stuck in a well:
so far down,
so far away
just flicker in the distance.

Nobody cares when good has gone missing,
except for when it’s dark
and there’s no one to guide them.

Yeah, that’s when they will care.

The moment they finally realize
no one likes to live
in colors of black and white

Strangers on the Subway

Across from each other they’re apart:
two different worlds,
two different stories,
and two different paths.

For what brings
them together in:
this exact moment,
this exact time, and
this exact point of their lives
is a guess.

Fate? Luck? Destiny?

Maybe it’s nothing,
nothing at all.

What if told you
they were perfect for each other,
but him too nervous,
she too shy.

As he got up to leave,
it was his stop, he left her

the two never saw each other again.
Two, perfect strangers, on a subway.


Blood Stream

A pond, lake, and valley all connect
one way or another.

They intertwine like veins
taking turns, pouring blood back into an ocean
floating at high tide, trying to pump out
the sour salt water-taste out of its mouth.

Water is water and blood is blood
in a body of water. The heart is an ocean

heart-shaped ocean

We Never Existed

disappear girl






What if no one was there
and it was only
you and I, but neither of us existed.

I could write this poem
page after page,
forever and ever,
but it wouldn’t matter
because it was all a dream
or better yet, a mirage.

What if what I’m saying makes no sense.
What if I’m crazy?
What if I’m not?


Writers are Selfish


but writers don’t care;
they rearrange,
mix and match letters
anyway they wish.

They don’t care if H
doesn’t like it near A
or T doesn’t like it in the middle,
and if E isn’t fond of the end,
they do it anyway.

Writers force letters together
just to express themselves
with no regard
or feelings toward innocent letters.

All I Can Do


I wrote these words
only for you,
so do with them,
as you wish.

Take them for the literal
or the figurative
it doesn’t matter to me
as long as you promise
to read them
and know
they were written
only for you.

Crumple them up,
throw them out,
and burn them in flames
when you’re finished.
As long as they were read
and not wasted;
I know
I’ve done
all that I can do

Alone in the Woods

big foot woods






See these fingers,
see these hands
they’re like yours,
waiting to be held
warmed to the touch.

Give me a smile,
give me a wave
not just a flash.

I’ll be your travel guide
follow my foot steps
down to the riverside
we’ll lay

watch the sky turn orange
count the constellations, debate
if we’ll ever get that far

trade me your freedom and
I’ll give you mine