Murmured lines

A writer loves to be read
To know that her words
Have been thought about by you
That they’ve traveled
The depths of your mind

A writer loves to be read
Her words murmured
Lines depart your lips
Leaving traces of want
And raising your need
For her language so deep

A writer loves to be read
Directly from the dark ink
Which flows beneath
Her translucent skin
For her words to be traced
By your fingertips

A writer loves to be read
By the reader who reaches within
Connecting the night to her ink
Helping her write
Her stories to life.

New words

To a writer
There is nothing more
More enticing
More enthralling
Than new words

To a writer
The choice of words
Color your soul
The phrasing of words
Pattern the beat of your heart
True meaning hidden
Behind organized thoughts

A writer reads
The thoughts you hide
The truth you push aside
Between the words
Between the phrasing
And breaths taken
A writer reads you

A writer
Thirsts for spilled ink
Hungers for new words
Language of your need
To satiate their soul

And once the last page turns
Do not feel offended
If you’ve been shelved
Because a writer is fed
On the novels read

The edge

Past the point of being sought after
Heading towards the flat line
My pen is destined to write on
The sun’s been swallowed
And in darkness I roam
The wind’s hurrying me along
Right up to the edge
Of night and space
And something I can’t quite make
And I want to race
Down these invisible steps
To see what’s next


It was just a shooting star
That made my heart race
Unexpected in a bright way
I almost thought I was riding it to space
Reaching my arms out to catch the stardust
I smiled at the thought

My Faults

I wonder if I’m worth more
Than the collection of all my faults
If I’ll ever be more than a liability
More than mistakes and plans I thwart
I wonder if people see me or
The shadows I danced with
I wonder if I’ll stop pretending to be a good girl
Find a medium and accept what I was made for
Drape the black slinky dress
Learn to dangle on the key chain and
Enjoy the rides others take
I wonder if I can tell the truth
Or if I’m just a series of lies
I wonder if people see how ugly I feel
Or just the mask I colored on
I wonder if I’ll ever know for real
Who the real me is
Because, it can’t just be this.
Can it?

Give me back

Did I do it again?
Make the same mistake?
Give too much
With so little left
Paper thin my heart
Like a leaf trembling
I carefully placed it
Your open hands waiting
I trusted and hoped
You’d see past the blemishes
Through the torn seams
And jagged little edges
It’s not the freshest of pinks
Not that many beats left
But still, it’s all I had to gift
Nothing else belongs to me
I’d hope I’d learn this time
Not to give every last piece
Reserve some of myself for me
Anyway, it’s ok turn away
If I could I’d do the same some day
Just let me have back
What you don’t want
I need it for the chances I take
The ones that’ll turn to more mistakes