transitions

bubbles dance around my skin
exfoliating the insecurities
about the insecurities
the first, deeper layers intact

im beginning to inhale
to fill my lungs
with the same freesia oxygen
that opened my eyes
in may

but now i have understanding
to match my sight
words to stitch into my quilt
of pain and love

the seagull patch,
next to the coral colored heart.
Gone, but not forgotten.
questions remain unanswered.

my little owl in a foreign land,
sewn next to the cherry blossom love,
above the patch of technology,
diagonal from the book worm,
next to the library mouse,
and my favorite rainbow.

the patches lie in piles around my knees,
the overwhelming beauty of it all

I am drunk on joy.

on a sheet of paper from the summer that i just found

falling down
new perspective

looking forward
instead of up

is this holy?


[its clique, but i want this recorded, cuz when i wrote it down, i felt it was urgent to and i want to respect the summer dani in the cubicle, who was dying to write]

quick 5 minute poem before sleep (or else I'll never post on this thing)

beneath these pink lids
the branches stretch beyond the rain drops

tonight i will meet you
under the bough
the veil of blossoms shade your eyes
the curving and breaking
fingers run over textiles
touch is what we all miss

you graze my chin
before you turn and disappear
the blossoms quiver

tomorrow i will wake
inhale the stale bedroom air
and go about my day