The corner

This is a dedication to romance only found in tv and movies we all know they don’t exist can you imagine if they did? I want to write a book with cotton candy dreams and fairy dust with an entire art scene I want my characters to fall in love when they least expect to when life is too busy darling, that’s when the magic happens when you slow down to steal looks on the subway even if the moments are short and subtle sometimes meaningless it feels as if they are on cloud nine sometimes things are meant to exist in the sky.  

I have known you for the past ten years when I was nine years old i had this blue wheelchair it came with a mushroom handle on my joystick I don’t know if there's a name for it but it always reminded me of a mushroom small, round and looks like a tree I loved it so much. My hand fit its shape like a glove I didn’t want to let go it was so perfect so elegant it felt like coming home to a loved one every time I held you my grip had to be firmer and tighter to protect me and you Your texture is rough but when I touch you it feels soft like my favourite blue blanket You followed me along to see all of my big moments; when I left elementary school when I began high school You were there to hold all the hair ties I lost but found you were there when my best friend gave me a bracelet for the first time, I put it on you I can never drive and wear bracelets It is why I never wear jewelry you were there on my first day of college   proving that if m

Scars along my skin sit to tell stories words cannot lines on my skin come out of one another like a green tree there is a yellow bee on the branch the sun hits my scarred skin displays dark days and old events that were never forgotten like doctor offices and therapy sessions the beds are always cold no matter how many blankets were offered so I’d say I’m okay people never notice until I take my sweater off wear a tank top or sleeveless dress on warm days the line that starts in the middle of my hand goes diagonally to the edge of the elbow they say scars fade overtime the thing is they’re still there no matter where you are or how long its been warm weather reminds me that its okay to feel out of my skin sometimes warm weather reminds me the scars on my skin deserve to feel the heat from the sun and to feel the air run through my hair

Some places   have memories   so distinct    that no matter   where you end up   or   who you go with   how much you try    to alter your experience    memories will always find   a way back to you       I come here    with all my sadness    and happiness.    I think of how long it has been.    I smile because of you    It is strange    I thought you could    never make me smile    again. You have your ways,   old friend.    I hear the waves    of the water fall back    and forth, I think I hear    your voice so I turn around   but you’re not there.   I turn around and my   stripped blue dress twirls   against my black seat,    so elegantly,    perfectly   without   you.      

A sharp whisk of the air runs along the back of my neck as I run through the forest of mystery the thick green branches gently sway back and forth above my head filled with a thousand chances to stay but the branches don’t seem to sway hard enough. I run for miles and miles. I end up in the part of this forest floored with darkness. I bounce up and down as the wind accelerates on my skin like a car on a freeway. Perhaps this is a way to run from troubles and mishaps to a serene place maybe by a waterfall. I bump into a tree shaking its branches. Orange pixie   dust exits the one unstable branch from this tree onto my black, motionless scalp. I go further into this abandoned forest where there is a blue fluorescent light illuminating from the sky. The bright regretful beams reach me.   I grimace like an owl seeing silvers  of light at night. Could it be a portal? A portal that I touch and suddenly be infected with flying dragons,

A tender voice calls my name in the distance with the hopes that I will respond Pieces of shattered glass on the ground distorts my face which isn’t that broken as if it would be underneath the moonlit sky I turn around, but no one is there except for settling dust; a ring shining towards the corner of my eye. Wonder if someone ran away before I could catch them like the sun hides before someone sees it afraid they will come out to play? You and I have so many fascinating conversations as it gets later and later into the melancholic night. about who I am? who I will be? who I should be?   When we get around to you, you tell me that I should go home. Tears run down my face there is a dark and heavy mist   floating in the air it weighs on my shoulders lifts me up and spins me around. You say that I should go home –   what if this is my home? You’re the one that brought me here with your trembling voice begging me to stay. I look up a

Twirl your braid in a bun expose the back of your neck so droplets of water from my mouth can touch yours and breathe into your soul. Let me tell your secrets that your afraid to say. I am in the middle of nowhere spouting out of a wooden stick. My town has been here for 74 years, dead for 20. The sight of you, the way your eyes examine each  and every detail astounds me. You must love it here even though bad things have happened here. A white bird sits atop your shoulder. You must be something special, I hear it in the way your wheels creak every time you move. Even when you dance I watch the way you smile though lips curl upright your dimples have so much depth - you amaze me. I hope you know that you are something else. The crisp air is stronger when you are around. The water coming out of me gets more intense. I hope you come around more often.