velcro

sex is like velcro
at first, the connection is strong
loops fitting perfectly together
hearts hard to separate
bodies clinging tight
the first rip leaves the most damages
ties torn
lives ripped
links broken.
from then on, each new attachment becomes less intense
each time it's less connected
the broken and damaged ties from before
don't allow to grip as tight, hold so close
it's only a matter of time before the connection of connecting is gone.
you're unable to connect because there's too much damage
people pressed together briefly
feeling no real connection
separating as easily as they came together.
how long til i reach that?
til i become a damaged good

regret

regret
the cold nagging feeling that eats at your mind
something lost way back in time
a piece of innocence lost or a true friend gone
we must always be forced to go back
our mind drags us there in silence or conversation
mocking, 'look what you did, stupid girl
it's too late now and you'll never forget.'
it haunts you every day
a timeless torture to remind you what you are
to drag you down and pin you there
it churns your stomach and pulls a frown
why does this damn thing always drag me down

i was raised ii

i was raised by country
play outside til it's dark
sink your toes into black mud
don't get lost in the cornfields
catch the lightning bugs at dusk
and wish they'd live forever
but learn that all captured creatures die.

i was raised with freedom
breathe in the smells of the wide open
and run far enough away
so no one knows what you do
a life of pretend and play til
goosebumps prickle and it's time for dinner

i was raised at grandma's table
if you eat before prayers, it's poison
but then you best eat everything on your plate
dishes are done by those who don't cook
and dessert is a course.

i was raised in a home
where the third stair creaks
and the tornado blew away the trampoline again
where the hayloft is too hot for the
club house of our dreams
but the front porch is perfect during summer evening storms

i was raised by simplicity
where dishes with grandma
baking bread bears with mom
were my first lessons
where the Easter egg tree at church and
pastel mints on a plastic table cloth filled my heart's content

i was raised to explore
"no TV! go outside and play!"

i was raised

i was raised in a white house
set on a hill
that became my heaven
i'd wander the fields
the creek
the barns
never finding a treasure
and never realizing
that it was my treasure

i was raised by family
that lived in the house
i'd follow dad wherever he went
and feel a glow when he reached for my hand
i'd wonder at my mother's beauty and style
and pray that one day i'd be pretty like her
i'd wear her high heels and andy's hand-me-downs
because they would make me more like him

i was raised by grandparents
that lived down the road
a grandma that taught me to play in dishwater
and keep stirring even when you're bored
i watched grandpa work and learned
sometimes silence and dinner are all you need

i was raised that "we'll be here if you ever need us"
are not just words
and "explore the world but don't forget to come home"
will eventually take me back
to where i was raised

man's hands

in man's hands we find all the answers;
the creation from dust
the sweet pleasure of lust
the erection of steel
to the helpless pleading appeal.
the power held by wealth
and the sad frailty of failing health.
the gentle caress
with just an edge of roughness.
the knuckles knotted in hate
encircling the bad of love inscribed with a date.
the world of his skill
in the grasp of a quill.
the nervous tapping.
the joyous clapping.
the sweat of a boy hiding
to the patient parent's guiding.
if you look at his hands, you view his soul.
for whom do they reach, surrender, enfold?
do you feel their touch, their sweetness, their grudge?
for it's not difficult to misjudge.
the worth of a man
lies truly in his hands.

confidence

gaining control
feeling much better
know that i love you
but i must be clever
i can't let it show
or needle will hit red
but i hear it in good night
and feel it in bed
and if by chance
we can't make it last
i'll be glad for the dance
and tuck you neatly away in my past

mms

i know they're just for decoration
but why would such beauty be a creation
if it wasn't something we could have?
so when no one's looking, i'll quickly grab
to feel them between my fingers and know that soon
i must consume them fast
because as you know, good things don't last
for if you hold them too long
the heat becomes too strong
and what started as a good plan
has become a tragedy in your hand

epiphany

desperate
why do i become so
desperate
start out with confident and sure
and end up doubting
afraid
to lose you
afraid
you'll find someone better
and leave me alone
nagging
my fun falls away
nagging
i question all you do
and analyze you to death
impatient
i push for something i don't even know i want
impatient
i become frustrated quickly
with your relaxed attitude and control change
i have to change
change
my thought processes and value myself
remember i was happy before you too
focus
on all things that matter, not just you
focus
on my life and others
and have faith that it will work if it should
trust
that God will take care of me
trust
that you might be honest
and if you're not, that i'll be ok without you

never me

why can i not wait
to see your face
i count down the days
like my life is one big race.
but then i think some more
and there's something that i store
why won't you claim me?
aren't i as pretty, as smart, as funny as she?
you know who i'm referring to,
the one with the hold over you
don't hide it or act like i don't know
because boy, i know exactly how it goes
is that why you won't call me girlfriend?
or say i love you when the conversation ends?
why aren't i enough?
why don't i qualify?
and why do i even take the time to wonder why?
i say it doesn't matter to your face
but there's a shadow that i can't erase.
why aren't my men proud to be with me?
they all wanna sleep with me, tell me i'm pretty, call me funny
but ultimately it's never me they're really with
it's never me in their profile pic.
are you just another one of them?
because i'm tired of being a toy for men
i say i'll be patient and give it time
for you to decide when to call me mine
but my patience is wearing thin
and i'm not very good at faking a grin
to cover up the hurt that stings
when i feel like i'm just a fling.
i know they say that actions speak louder than words aloud
but i need to hear you say that to be my boyfriend you'd be proud

fear

most people fear snakes or heights
but what i fear can't be seen by sight
it's the place most people run to when they're second
when they feel the vulnerability of the open air
what i fear most is moving home
no longer having this freedom to roam
it's a kind of claustrophobic fear
that can't be cured by stepping into the clear
if i go home, i'll again feel
that restless stir
and if i can deal with that, i'm just not sure
i like my big world and multitude of friends
and i don't know how i'll react when that ends
replaying in my head is a memory of repression
and the emptiness that follows with the depression
of watching the world around you fade into re-runs
realizing that a life on repeat is what you've become
that fear of entrapment burns in my heart
but if i don't return, we'll never start

waste

may you live all the days of your life
and not waste them in front of a screen
or surrounding yourself with useless strife
there are places to go and things to be scene
but i feel like you don't understand
you seem ok with repetition
and a life that's bland
i want you to see that the time that you waste
you can't get it back
you recline and let the days slip past
without even seeing them crash
yes, family and friends are invaluable
but the opportunities you're missing are incalculable
there's a world out there
don't you feel the draw of the open air?
don't you feel the walls pressing in?
don't you want to fight against their pin?
spread your wings and fly away?
you always know you can go back someday
i realize that i can't control your life or desire
but i don't know if i can live without that fire