square peg

I used to be that girl,
the one with the knife in her heart
slowly twisting it
getting off on the pain
and the slow poisoning,
using it to make my art
because happiness seemed
in such short supply. I was angry
at life for tormenting me
and at myself for letting it,
but mostly I was wallowing
in sadness. and then
someone offered me
a way out. and I realized
that it was my choice
all along, and therefore I could
choose to feel differently.

all those things
that made me feel
like I was not good enough,
irredeemably flawed, broken,
gradually transformed
into what made me me
and seen through
different eyes, became
lovable.

if you’re out there trying
to hammer that square peg
into a round hole, just
walk away. all that energy
will come back to you threefold
once you release it
from its fruitless labor.

last chance

twelve minutes left
to make something of myself.
this last poem
will redeem me, I just
know it. only nine for
the month, can’t I
go out on a high note?
welp, I never have
before. why start
now?

this year I
cried a lot, laughed
a lot, loved a lot,
did a fair amount
of drugs, and worried
even more. I made
some music that
I’m pretty proud of.

cue people screaming
in the background.
I spent the last ten minutes
writing my last poem
of the old year
only to find that
it has become
the first poem
of the new year.

there’s no lesson
here. whether you’re
celebrating or
denigrating, it all
comes down
to timing.

a little privacy

in that restaurant, we
found a good corner, a booth
and three empty tables
in a cul-de-sac, where
no one was looking and
no one cared. the hot waiter –
who was probably gay – helpfully
stayed away as I slowly showed you
a little more skin
than I had been when I
walked in the joint. you
were crazy for me, and I
was blushing. today I learned
that sometimes
a little privacy
can go a long way.

the window

it’s been open
for some time now.
we both know it.

but. just so you know,
it won’t be
forever.

your five year plan
is about four years too long
for me. life’s too short
to wait that long
to be happy.

I’m starting to
believe that I deserve
to be happy. not for
nothing, but you do
too. neither of us
is the worst. why
are we punishing ourselves?

I feel in my heart
that we could be happy
together. I know
feelings aren’t facts,
but I’d rather try
and love each other while
we’re both still alive
than forever wonder
what could have been.

let’s not
stall and dither
and let the feeling die
and wither on the vine.
let’s drink our wine
and get while the getting’s
good. and if not,
please get
gone.