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It's been a long time...

I was going through some of my stuff today, and I found these two poems that I wrote in eighth grade. They're not too bad, so I thought I'd post them here. I'll probably edit them a good bit and make them all shiny and nice, but here are the originals as I wrote them in eighth grade.

Where'er the wind blows,
There I will go,
Tossed on a sea of air.
My soul does fly,
And e'en if I die,
The wind will still carry my soul.
'Tis a friend, yet a foe,
Both lover and enemy.
The wind shall not go
Without some of my soul.
I've traveled the world,
I know all its people.
For still the wind blows,
And still shall I go,
The wind and a piece of my soul.
(Apparently my attempt at the romantic era. :D)

Sorrows Incarnate
Within myself I hold the pent-up tears and sorrows of the world.
I sweep over you, causing sorrows to multiply, to grow.
I cause certain things, certain people, to be forgotten.
Their faces and troubles unknown, nameless.
My hunger is insatiable, my thirst unquenchable.
And my mouth is gaping to swallow and utterly consume that 
Which lies in my path.
I cannot be doused, like fire.
I cannot be contained, like snow or stones.
I cannot be stopped.
I must run my course, like a river, like the awful course
Of life itself.

My voice is deep.
I roar as I consume years of love, of labor, of life.
My anguish and pain grow each time I emerge
From swollen rivers and lakes fed by the pounding rains.
Or sometimes I creep, unbidden, from the mountain streams
And engulf the valleys below.
When I am gone, those who have survived are not sure whether
Their lives are now a blessing or a curse.
My footprints can be seen in the form of crushed houses, of
Bent and broken trees, and in the faces of the survivors.
Remember, I am created from the sorrows of the world.
If the world were not so weary, I would not exist.

(That last one's really more prose. I'll rewrite it as such.) 


Turn, turn
Burn, burn
The wheel won’t stop
And I must drop
From exhaustion
No caution
I had it too late
A pretty Kate
I couldn’t wait
To bloom and grow
Now I slow
To listen
Eyes glisten
Do you miss me?
You wouldn’t kiss me.
Now you wave
I try to save
My logic and reason
Tis’ the season
For love to flower
You have no power
Over me
So I’d like to believe
Can you hear me speak?
It’s been nearly a week
Since I’ve written
Since you’ve bitten
And I’m attempting
To prevent
A new accident but
You can’t help but
Mess me up
So I must jump
To stop the thump
Of my


Hide and Go Seek

I’m here
You’re there
My eyes are covered
All is dark
I’m counting
You’re running
And I feel your breath
Feather my cheek as
You tell me to keep counting
And I obey
You laugh again
But when I stop
When I come searching,
Seeking, looking, loving
I find you



Ringing your backyard fire pit
Crouching, smiling, laughing
A wild glint in your eye
I think you’re reflecting the moon
Bare feet curl on the grass
I clap a heartbeat and
You are the pulse
Dancing in blood shadows
The cat is curled by me
Living heat by my thigh
Fire heat by my arms and face
Your heat in my blood
And you’ve said you were a witch


From Me to You

And we walk
And you move
Faster than I
Your legs
(Shorter than mine)
Move at the pace
Of the City
Not this city
Another city
Far across
An ocean
Your movements
Belie your words
As usual
I start to call
To you
Suddenly stop
And wait
For me
To me
You look
Back at me
Your posture
But your eyes


Ma Soeur

Here, my sister
You shall not be
Oppressed, my sister
Repressed, my sister
Bloom as the flow'ring tree
GROW and blossom
You are infinite, eternal
My sister, you are beautiful
And they flock to you
Seeing your beauty only
But you, my sister, you
Are infinite, eternal
And you are of many spheres
This repression we shall not allow
It is not so strange, implied
Not overt but present
My sister, in prizing you with gold
They undermine your worth
They cannot see the steel
The cunning copper, but
You, my sister, are all of these
So, my sister, build bridges
Of steel and copper and
Garland them with flowers



            We’re driving home, my mother and I, and I look out the window at the stars, craning my neck a bit and pressing my forehead against the cool glass. I see a group of stars; one, two, three in a row and realize that it’s Orion’s belt. We pass by a thicket of trees and Orion is momentarily lost to me. Then the sky is clear again and my eyes search out his legs and his bow. This gazing at stars reminds me of my best friend, who taught me a little of how to find the stars. I remember how sailors of the past used to chart their courses by the stars. They trusted their livelihood and their lives to some bright spots in the sky. I used to believe that you could fix your entire life to one object, person, or idea, but now I know that life is too fluid to try and nail it to anything. Objects can be lost, people die or leave, and ideas can be proven wrong. How any sailor could so trust Orion is beyond me, as I can no longer trust that which I thought was most firm. Promises are broken, lies are told, and love fades; slowly, but inevitably, it fades. But life also moves on, just as constellations move across the sky. The seasons turn, the tides come in and out. And I will find someone new to love, find another person to give my heart to and eventually have it broken. But maybe not just yet. Maybe Orion will come out from behind the clouds. Maybe the stars of his belt will grow brighter and the buckle affixed more tightly. Maybe he shall once more shoot his arrow and once more I will fix my heart by it. No, he’s not Cupid, but for right now, he’ll do just fine.



You don’t realize how much you need someone until they’re sleeping in the same bed as you.
You don’t realize how soft someone’s skin is, no matter how many times you’ve touched it, hugging, punching, tickling, tackling, until you realize how much you need them.
You don’t realize how deep someone’s eyes are, however many times you’ve looked into them, in anger, in laughter, in grief, until you realize how soft their skin is.
You don’t realize how musical someone’s voice can be, even if it’s somewhat hoarse in the middle of the night, even if it’s not the voice of an Angel or a rockstar, saying your name in confusion as they wake with your arms around them, until you realize how deep their eyes are.
You don’t realize how chapped someone’s lips can be, despite the fact that you’re kissing them, despite the fact that it’s winter and cold and dry, despite the fact that you dazedly remember staring at those lips inadvertently, despite the fact that your tongue is running over those lips, until you realize how musical their voice can be.
You don’t realize how warm someone’s body can be, even though that was the whole point of crawling into bed with them, even though you’ve grown warm simply thinking about that body, even though you’ve felt them burning up with fever and seen them flushed with desire, anger, embarrassment, even though it’s freezing in this room, this bed, even though the mounds of blankets aren’t warm enough but this someone is, until you realize how chapped their lips are.
You don’t realize how surprisingly good it feels for someone to be touching you, because although you’ve imagined this briefly and much to your surprise, because although you never dreamed that someone could be that good at touching, although you never thought that this someone could be that good at touching, although your thoughts are flying out of your head in quick succession, although you can’t breathe, although you are gasping for breath at the same time they are for the same reasons, although the rhythm is pounding through your blood, although they’ve got you waiting, wanting, pleading, begging, although… although… although… although… although… until you realize how warm their body is.
You don’t realize how comfortable someone is, even though you’ve leaned against them too many times to count, even though you’re leaning into the hollows of their somewhat scrawny body and you fit perfectly there, even though your arms are wrapped around them and your chests are rising and falling together, breathe, breathe, breathe, even though they’re sweaty and you’re sweaty, but you can smell oranges on their skin, until you realize how surprisingly good it feels for them to be touching you.
You don’t realize how adorable someone can be, despite the fact that you’ve called them a girl on numerous occasions, despite the fact that they almost perpetually look like a lost puppy, despite the fact that they look cuter than anything you’ve ever seen when they’re staring at you wide eyed after sex, until you realize how comfortable they are.
You don’t realize how gentle someone can be, even if it’s surprised you before, you’ve never really thought about it, even if you’ve seen how they’ve handled their past girlfriends, and one tumultuous spring, a boyfriend, even if you know that the sharp lines of their body don’t make a sharp person, until you realize how adorable they are.
You don’t realize how caring someone can be, however many times they’ve rescued you and nursed you, until you realize how gentle they are.
You don’t realize how beautiful someone is, no matter how many times you’ve been astounded by the sheer blue of their eyes, the gold of their hair, until you realize how caring they are.
You don’t realize that you love someone, despite the fact that you’re whispering it against their mouth, until you realize how beautiful they are.



Am I a seedling thou wouldst
Coax, kiss, plead to grow
Water, feed, lead me
Then pluck me to bleed me?
Why dost thou weep, witch?
Why dost thou bark, bitch?
Silent screams will not avail thee now.
I have softly shrieked, feeling how
Each syllable scratched, shredded
Spewing bright blue blood and bone
Here is death, grinning and grim
Whom I have called hope, a ghastly whim.


Lost Wings

You are my love
I am your love
We are the lovers
Jumbled on a Tarot Card
Veiled by smoky candlelight
Caressed by ringed hands
Alive we move in a writhing dance
You rise to the heavens
Unreal, surreal, ethereal
Long red hair flowing in bloody rivers
That I cannot swim up
I cannot climb this precipice
This ascension, this flight, this opium high
Your pale face wreathed in blue smoke
Eyes rolling back in your head
Limbs slack, fire hair spread across my chest
You burn, love with the slightest touch