there is space here
enough for me
enough for you
if you’re kind, thoughtful
and respectful; we have room.
you don’t have to be beautiful
or conform to notions of who you should be
so long as others’ genuine needs
are okay with you,
too.
there is space here
enough for me
enough for you
if you’re kind, thoughtful
and respectful; we have room.
you don’t have to be beautiful
or conform to notions of who you should be
so long as others’ genuine needs
are okay with you,
too.
sometimes it’s ALL about the shoes.
‘Cause daring to wear those shoes
is daring to celebrate your self
your passion
your individuality.
I wear wild and funky shoes
because it’s about me in the shoes
and what they tell everyone else.
It’s definitely about the shoes.
Believe it.
.
.
(and that is the whole premise behind the Nikki Knox stories! Check the link above if you love great shoes, too!)
Your name drips heavy irony:
joyful, playful, desirable.
Was that a youthful you
I never knew?
What carved through
who you were meant to be
and left such an antipode
behind?
Pick up any yearbook
any place
any year.
Turn the pages,
you will recognize them.
That one:
always so friendly.
That one:
forever in trouble.
That one:
so cool.
That one:
Oh! The music!
That one:
skipped more than attended
That one:
kept you up nights,
worried about wise choices
safe places.
Any yearbook,
familiar faces,
each so unique,
every one the same.
This moonlit night,
snow glowing with
luminescent memories,
I stroll along the old paths
thinking of the mystery you
made of me.
Identity molded like play dough
childhood laughter
leaching from the cracks of yesterday.
I can’t say anymore
who I am.
.
(another character perspective poem about Lydia & Dustin)
The shape of this idea
is new,
resolving conceptually around
a
round
never-ending
novelty
what the mirror reveals of me.
The shape of this idea
greets daily astonishment
as “You can be” turns out to be true.
Who knew?
I believed me
when I told myself I couldn’t do it.
I believed me
when I told myself nothing could be done.
I believed me
when I told myself nothing could change.
I believed me,
but I was wrong.
In throes of passion
he never screams her name
and she wonders whether
he is ravishing secret loves
in his mind.