We Bloom

Once when I was six I picked from a field
A single flower that had recently blossomed
There was a bumblebee feeding off pollen when I freed the flower from the earth
The bee stung me in the index finger
I was humiliated and embarrassed so I ran for miles through the woods
I hid for days through weeds and trees
The search party couldn’t stumble upon me
When I went to my address
There were plenty of hugs and loud words
I cried and laughed and never picked another flower again
Sometimes splendor isn’t worth it.

Late Night Transmission to Saturn

I’m drowning in a pool of circuits and wires
Like a satellite I try to send you my signal of distress
But you’re rejecting all communications
“Radio! Radio! Can you fucking hear me?”
I cry out for weeks into blown speakers
I hold my breath until it explodes through dead microphones
Shatters the glass of the globe
Deafly shrieking “Danger, danger I’m screaming at the top of my lungs!”

The machine has failed; we’ve individually created our own paths.
Like a fork in the road, I’ve parted ways.
I remember when steel was skin
And how it felt when I would see you smile
Or when I pinched you softly
You would always giggle while barely whispering your inner pain
I should’ve listened
Instead I got lost in your Sunday dress and your dinner table manners
I never said grace.
I only laughed at your beliefs and faked interest in your talents.

One Day I Sat & Thought and It Was All Too Much

She had those jealous eyes.
The kind that would shatter your confidence and bring you down to her level
It’s always sudden when they plunge that knife inside themselves
Blood spilled past the fingers, past the wound
We’d put band-aids over it, but it wouldn’t heal
She’d pick at the scab, exposing oxygen to her insides
She wanted to breathe. She wanted to sleep.
The sun wouldn’t stop, so she wore sunglasses with every hour.
The seconds fell silent, the days screaming to be months.
I stood idle, laughing to myself.
“Oh sweet darling, I’m at your aid, I’d walk miles to heal you!”
I kept the medicine from her in a box my grandmother gave me
The rust on the key reminded me of you:
You know, aging, losing purpose… and just dying to be replaced.

It was like the old piano at my sister’s house that I always wondered about
One day I played it, placing my fingertips softly on the ivory
I pressed down and it was the sound that made me feel…
It made me feel ugly and beautiful. Loud and untuned.
Like an unfinished masterpiece.
I wanted to write notes.
I wanted to write that one sound that’ll make you cry.
Too bad I quit piano lessons when I was nine.

Songs Without the Word 'You'

We sat outside to the sound of swirling keys and drum machines
Wondering when the night’s lights would bend and appear
Our girls were popping birth control pills
And smiling at the thought of sex
Summer’s song is a soft one that kicks in at the end
This time I’m not singing along.