the way he is right now

I’ve learned to walk silently across the floor 

I’m a tall, strong woman with weary size ten feet

but I’m here tiptoeing and praying not to wake the manic beast, 

the way he is right now 

The past 2 weeks were okay

how I wish that guy could stay 

the one with the kind blue eyes 

the one that copies the clouds 

in the sky

the one who speaks gentle words 

and doesn’t wish for me to die

He doesn’t mean it, they always say 

But seriously, doesn’t dawn always beckon a new day?

Oh God, what if he means it?

These are the thoughts that make me lock my door

before I attempt to sleep

thoughts that make me say that extra prayer 

thoughts that make me easily tiptoe with my weary size ten feet 

to walk silently across the floor

begging not to wake the manic beast


there’s a suitcase in the far corner of my closet

the older one with the worn brown

checkerboard pattern and a faded luggage tag

can’t make out the name any longer

not going anywhere anyway

and if I pretend

the flattened leather handle still feels warm

probably from when you used it last

back when life was happy and our souls were stronger

sometimes when things get loud

I want to place a blanket in that suitcase,

in the far corner of my closet,

crawl inside, zip it up and lie

quietly, silently

will he find me

I want to say aloud

but I don’t dare make a sound

these days, these long days

after the first door slam, I want to bolt

run far before the terror takes hold

but no

I have to stand there and take it

stand there and stand there

stand there and fake it

place my trembling hands in my pockets

ignore my heart pounding in my ears

taste the rapid beats, choke them down

why is it getting so difficult

I’ve been doing this for years

every time I enter my closet

I give that suitcase an extra glance

maybe one day I could do it

run quick when I have the chance

when I’m first warned

place a blanket inside, make it cozy and warm

crawl inside, zip it up

lie quietly, silently battered and worn


i want to sip Rose´on the deck of a yacht,

a big yacht

wear a white dress with no bra and a gold,

a very gold anklet that jingles when i walk

wear shades so dark that i can’t see past,

have them get tangled in my black hair

play tug of war with the salty air

call out to the teasing sea, “Where am I?”

have it answer back, “Does it matter?”

dive in the green, swim through the purple,

hold my breath in the orange,

inhale, count to twenty and exhale every trouble

every trouble i’ve ever had

look down at my sun-kissed arms, my perfect hands

my turquoise nails – wearing that amethyst you gave me last

listen to Frank Ocean – every syllable making me jump

sip the Rose´ and look past the crooked sailboats

imagine i’m on the other end,

the other part of the world

say, “Where is that?” and have

it answer back, “Does it matter?”


i go

swept away, away i go

into his vortex, trembling…

waiting for the top to blow

first on my arms, then my nose

what he does next

well, you know

whatever is loony,

the opposite of sane,

living like this…

i’m going insane


somebody please stop this senseless ride

i’m getting dizzy…

i want to run inside and hide

fall asleep for a thousand years and a day

a small reprieve from

waiting, pacing…

praying, trembling…

all the while being swept away,

swept away i go



what will

What will it be

the day after tomorrow

what will the punishing be

what bad thoughts

will swim and dance in his head

what will the questions be

what will cause the train

to runaway and wreck

over and over and over again


we scream back, “what the heck?

what words will I say in vain


when he thinks we’re fake

I’ll cry and spew back,

damn you, this isn’t a game!”

what more do we have to say or prove

what magic doors do I need to

go through

Please God, say the words


tell me what to do

what will it be the day after tomorrow

what will my punishment be

pain and pain that will last forever

Oh God,

please tell me this isn’t forever


the crescendo swept me away last night

tiny violins, mellow cellos

…my friends

the ones with the low gorgeous tones

I remember how its strings felt

beneath my fingertips

first cold, then warm

left little bite marks, they did


that crescendo last night

I’m surprised you didn’t hear it

what’s wrong with you?

did you fear it?

that music ran me over, made me spin

tossed me into oblivion



to feel

i want to feel a lion’s whiskers against my face,

its hair flat against my eyebrows.

open my eyes to only see an amber sea.

wrap its giant paws around my neck,

much like a mighty embrace.

have its roars momentarily

deafen me, silence me,

rattle me to the bone.

have its breath take away my breath,

engulf me like a storm.

be lulled to sleep by its heartbeat

that transforms to steady drums.

dream of wild safaris,

i’m in his land now.

free, roaming,

elephants trumpeting

but the drums stop.

i wake up, no such luck, the lion is gone.