garden(‘butterfly’ + ‘moth’)

I think of butterflies the way I think of flowers. Delicate, colorful, beauty unyeilding. Unfading. Paper thin and fragile, the flicker of wings a small miracle on a rough and painful world.

I love the butterfly with the weary eyes. The butterfly with the tiger stripes. The butterfly that looks like an oriental fan. The butterfly that is all black, with pink and red, my favorite colors.

We tend to agree that things like flowers and butterflies are beautiful. Though all have different colors, patterns, shapes, they are beautiful. We don’t always agree that people are beautiful, though all have different colors. Patterns. Shapes.

The flowers that come in mounds of blue, or pink. The tiny petaled flowers that form bunches the size of a fist. The dainy white with the striking aroma; the perky and cheery cactus flowers.

I don’t love many outside myself, and I don’t find myself beautiful. I’m a different color. Pattern. Shape. I am paper thin and fragile. I am delicate. I am not unyeilding. I am a miracle in this rough and painful world.

I don’t love you….

I won’t love you….

I am afraid to love you. You are a different color, pattern, shape. You are perhaps a moth with a massive wing span, weary in color and hard to find. You don’t strike me with the fear of you withering, of your wings being weighed down by the rain.

You are not delicate. You are unyielding. You are a survivor in this rough and painful world.

Together, we are still paper thin, but stronger than separate pages. You love light and I love flowers. You crave the sun, I crave luring fragrance. I float around through life. The wind coaxes me, owns me. You stand, sturdy, unyielding.

I flutter from flower to flower. When does it end for me? When all of the petals fade? When the current pulls me in? When I catch a ride on the wrong lily pad?

Perhaps we’ll let the flutter of the wings of a butterfly decide for both of us.


Push me down, lead me round, throw me away

I beg you stay

Lead me on, treat me wrong, unfair play

I plead you stay

Hold me close, want me most, hands on my yearning spine

Yet decline to be mine every day….

I dream you stay

Hold me down, let me drown in your eyes; hazel lies

Every breath wonderless, truthfulness still null, yet…

Stay, come what may.



Your face

My lace

The sheets at my place


Powdered Rouge

The bottoms of my shoes

The heat in my veins

The soul of our flames

Your letters, unsigned

Our secret defined

Who Am I

Confusion is bewildering
Who am I? A wanton girl
Playing alone on the rusted swings
Dirt all in her tangled curls

Growth is necessary
Who am I? A woman? No.
A crying child still trapped within
Soaked in tears and paper thin

Identity is transient
Who am I? No one yet
Older than dust with ears still wet
Too old to remember, too empty to forget

Faith is ever waning
Where are you? strange voice in the wind
Tell me where the labyrinth ends
I froze in fear where it begins

Black Magic doesn’t Work on the Devil

I like to think that I

Captivate with my brown eyes

Wordlessly hypnotize

On a throne of butterflies

I often believe that I

Capture prey in silky lies

Pouncing while they fantasize

Of dreamy days and steamy nights

I push my pins in

You don’t let me win

Toxic slowly sinking in

But you counter with a grin

Me and my love are black magic

Your hallowed out heart is satanic

I cannot believe that I

Can’t Magick my way into it

Welcome back to the show!

Welcome back to the show! All the world is a stage

With manic depression and clinical rage

Unbridled joy and inexplicable glee

A circus of colors and faces we’ll be!

Shuffling masks between smiles and tears

Holding back aching through copious years

Cynical smiles and ecstatic frowns

Paired with baby doll eyes and an Ice Queen’s crown

It’s been quite awhile since I swung on my ropes

The noose left my neck and I danced on my toes

It was a grim show, but I digress

I distracted myself with my own happiness

But what is a show if no one is amused?

So the rope now strikes the back of my muse!

Though the lions and tigers have long since been tamed

The stringless marionette lives to entertain!

Unfinished Thought

You find your way under my skin when I don’t want to let you in

And you read my thoughts aloud to me like poetry

I told you nothing

And yet you know it all as if you’ve seen it in a crystal ball

You watch me rise and fall like ebbing tides

You see the faltering steps in my stride

Every time I stutter lights the mischief in your eyes

And yet I’m left wondering blind in your mysterious world

Your hand to hold

Is like a sword on its own, but with no hilt to the blade

It keeps me safe, but also afraid of the imminent wounds

On simple flesh that can renew, I know

But the gaping hole in my spirit is not as easy to restore

As the underside of my skin becomes a bore

And you yearn for something else to explore

End of Song

Tell me to stay

Push me away

Tell me you care

Never be there

Hold me close

Shun me the most

Time after time

Like a song out of rhymes

Repeat the same verse

A dozen times

Time after time

Like a song out of rhymes

Repeat the chorus

Wear out the lines

Want me in the dark

Leave me in the light

Unshackle my heart

Unburden my nights

Come closer

And feel from miles away

We’ve gone on too long

Put an end to this song

Why do birds fly?

Birds don’t fly to get away

The land and the ocean hold their prey

They seek out trees when it’s time to pray

They seek warm leaves when the skies are grey

Birds don’t fly because they’re free

Beneath the clouds is where they’re made to be

In a flock of geese or a murder of crows

In endless space they huddle close

They migrate in a widespread V

Through cold and ice, they fight fatigue

And finally when it’s time to rest

They nestle their heads within their breasts

The sky is their curse just as ours is the earth

We gaze onward as they gaze below

Knowing here we’ll spend the rest of our lives

Knowing there is where they were made to survive.