Girl-Goddess

It was a sweet lie. The kind of sickly-sweet that leaves a thick, overpowering coating in your mouth. It almost hurt, to be honest, but Martha didn't care  Anything to get her obnoxious, 16-year-old son out of the house for a day. "Little mister responsibility," she muttered to herself, stirring a simmering pot over a flickering flame on the aging stove. Such a busybody, always poking his protruding nose into her less-than-motherly business. But that's not how she though of it. Martha breathed in sharply, waiting for the candy-cane-taste of her lies on her tongue and in between teeth to evaporate. She was filled with the sharpness of the

No matter how many words I scrawled on the pavement, how profusely I etched those letters in the harsh black asphalt, how delicately I picked and chose or how carefully I colored them, The rain still washed away all the letters I wrote you there on the unforgiving concrete. Every. Last. One.

There are days when it's hard to imagine that I wasn't this person a year ago. As the end of December approaches, I remember the hardships and the pain and the crying and the fear, but I also thank the powers that be for every minute of it. In the midst of my panic and pain and tears and terror, I discovered myself, and everything that I am has sprung, at least in part, from the hardest decision that I've ever made. Now, it's been almost a year, and I still cry over it all, and i still feel the sharp emptiness in my gut and the enveloping darkness that sprung up in its depths. I still feel the adrenaline rush that accompanied me through my tr

It's in the warmth of your step, the light in your eyes, the ring of your wisdom, the colored, fading goodbyes. It's never been easy, It's seldom been fun, But now that it's over, I know that it's done. Sleeping still, your dreams expired, Love undone, restless desire Seeps through your bones, and into my head, Where it rests and play with my heart like the dead I wait for you here, In a hell of my own design, Where the ends of my sentences Tumble out in rhyme. It's beautiful here, but It's terrible, too. When you know what I know, and do as I do. Sleep tight, mijito, and don't you look back, It's hard to let you go, b

His eyes are the eyes of a childhood dream, Lost in a dazed and frenzied scheme. Content to lie in a pallid trance, Somberly yielding to a long-forgotten dance. The spinning and leaping in his mind's eye Had little to do with the world passing by. The simplest nod and the slightest tip Would leave him stained, frightened, and prone to slip Away, his heart had fled his chest A silent pit beckoned, though he tried his best To beat it back, he was soon misled, And mindlessly swept his foolish head. His eyes are the eyes of a man lost to the thrills Of past and future, of aches and chills He lives in a dreamworld, and, at his behest

Mama, why is the thunder so loud?          It's the voice of the heavens, sweetheart. It has to be loud. Why can't he whisper, Mama?              He does, child. That's the sound of the wind                 when you hear your name on it's invisible lips,                  that's the soft touch of rain trickling down your face                     and the feel of sun beating down on the earth.                     It's love, darling. And sometimes, love has to be loud-           so you can hear it over everything else between earth and the sky.

With a mouth of broken glass, I offer my smile and hope it will last. Only in love's sweetest embrace, God will smile upon your face. Never fear the hope of believing, Never cling to faceless deceiving. Shatter the past with a gleaming grin, Dance in the rain and the shadow of sin. With all of this to fill your head, Never shall you find yourself misled.