she dyed her hair red

when her heart turned black,
and called it balance.

i call it guilt,
bleeding out
into everything else.

"we are the sum of all the people we've ever met."

and i am the sum of every person i never did.

questions for jolene

((The concept for this poem was take from Warsan Shire, who wrote the poem questions for miriam.  Which she in turn took from Caits Meissner, who wrote questions for yusef. So I don't own that. Only trying to mimic brilliance. ))

And yes, it's the Jolene from the song. Ever wondered about her?

-

did you ever think about the hearts

that you left shattered?

jolene,

did they ever make you cry?

jolene,

did you ever set the clocks wrong

so he would stay an extra hour?

did you do it for the time

or for the woman waiting, 

just to spite her? 

jolene,

who was it that made you hate

women so?

who twisted something 

inside you

turned your body inside out

and made you use it 

for all of the wrong ways? 

did you love men, jolene?

or did you hate them?

who was it that broke your heart, jolene?

who made you so thirsty for blood,

for the sound of hearts snapping,

the sound of women crying

alone on kitchen floors?

did you ever really laugh?

were you ever a child, jolene?

or did someone steal that from you?

is that why you make a life from thieving?

stealing hearts in broad daylight,

under the tear-rimmed eyes of less

beautiful women?

who's was the first heart you broke?

a man or a woman?

do you remember how it felt in your hands,

did the power

make your head rush?

did they ever cry when you left them?

did you open the doors for the sobbing women

out of pity or pride? 

were you kind or cruel?

was each stroke of lipstick

a victory for you, jolene?

did you feel success 

as you pulled your hose up your legs? 

did the satisfaction grow

with each conquest, 

jolene?

or did they slowly 

become more hollow?

did you have to crush more viciously, then?

do you ever look in the mirror, jolene?

or do you only pick your reflection

out of the eyes of others?

have you ever allowed yourself to be ugly?

jolene, have you ever screamed

like you made other women scream,

have you ever begged?

was being on your knees once

enough to let you know

you never wanted to be there again?

do you ever search for your heart, jolene?

under masses and memories

and ashes of broken arteries? 

do you ever find it?

do you look at what's left?

and does it ever make you cry?

happy today.

there will never be another today like this one. so use it. make something beautiful. laugh really hard. and don't wear makeup.

just for one day, be you.

have the happiest today you can. :)

your children's fathers

you choose your children's fathers,

remember that. 

when you hear his sweet words

and taste his lips

like cardamom 

and cinnamon 

like tea too late

in the afternoon

when he lays you down

fingers in hair

and the carpet burns your back

when you claim love

feign bliss

turn time into blurs

when flesh slides across flesh

and he says your name

one syllable off

but it's beautiful

in his voice. 

when heat comes together 

again and again

and breath is shared

in the small valleys 

between nose

and curve of upper lip

when tongues taste memories

and light bouncing off curtains

shows his innocence,

when he changes your perception

with one stroke of his palm

when elbows brace on table legs

and heels find rest on couch cushions

and his heart is the only sound 

in your mind.

and your moment closes

your fantasy flees

your heart plucks like a string

and he gets up and leaves.

you choose your children's fathers,

remember that. 

lip rings and nighttime dreams

go away, silly boy. just go away.

the dreams aren't worth the fading into dawn.

cinema.

i kept every single one of them. 

and yours i keep the closest.

bedroom eyes

and no surprise.

make me
or break me,
baby.

just don't hate me.

exploration.

i want to feel my way across your face,

journey down between your ribs,

make camp in the dip of your hip,

and scale the curve of your arm

i want to push my way through thick hair

and emerge on the precipice of your forehead,

i want to skate across your lips

and then slide down your neck

get lost in the plains of your chest,

before i find my way home

to the palm of your hand.

eighteen

was never a number
that meant much to me.

you have never been more real

as when there were eight thousand miles between us
when i saw sun and you saw moon
and i tried to forget.

sallow

his mother named him sallow

and his kisses underneath 

weeping willow trees

changed the meaning of the word for you

forever.

until his face turned that color

and he sweat hotter

than any summer

and his grip weakened 

then disappeared entirely

against your palm.

grapes

he fed her grapes

too sweet for season

almost as sweet

as the smell of his skin. 

sing

sing

a song your mother knew

and dance

to your father's drum

breathe deeply

and smell the old country

and know you are home

wherever you are. 

you again.

there is no such thing

as other characters 

an actor plays himself

over 

and over

and over

again 

a stronger version

a weaker version

a broken version

a beautiful version

of himself

again

and again

and again. 

this is my script

and you keep saying cut,

but my head won't stop rolling. 

let's set you up for a let down, baby.

the stars have never looked so heavy.

six impossible things before breakfast. ❤

this photo is impossibly amazing. so is the girl who took it.

find her here.

sighing symphonies

she had music in her mind

that just never knew

quite how to get out.

she'd go to empty places

dance wildly in fields

scream into open air

hair rocking round

body thrashing

heart searching.

her fingers would skate

across bed sheets

back arching

breath gasping,

she should have learned

how to play an instrument. 

then,

there was a kiss.

a kiss

of kisses.

out came a sigh,

and there was her symphony.

who you are

"Don't put that shit on your face."

She glances towards him, then back, and continues.

The silence fills the room, seeps into the spaces between them and pushes.

"It's like I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I know."

And afterwards, she can't remember who said what.

you're about eleven different kinds of beautiful, baby.

don't hide from the rain. it only wants the chance to touch you.

something like you

i want to write

something beautiful

like a thought

or a word

a snapshot

of a memory

a feeling

or emotion

inside of me

fighting outwards

i just want you

to love it

like i love you.

❤

i fell in love

with watching you

fall in love

your eyes on her hair

the curve of her hip

the way her hands worked

it was a love

of a love

watching

and seeing

and loving

from afar.

you love her

beautifully.