painted lady daydreams.

painted dreams are for the lonely.

who are you,

but a painted lady.

your smile was smudged

when you were born,

in a world far away,

a different time.

but the people always spoke

of the clearness of your eyes,

how it seemed you saw

everything, everyone.

they said you were

always watching out

for them.

you know who you

were watching out for.

someone from your past

lives. someone

too old to remember

the way things happened.

people speak of the way

your dark hair shines,

and they whisper,

yes, it must have

been a great love.

thoughts.

there was something you once said,
about a girl who lost her way.

never tried to find it again.

you said, in a voice that was not afraid,
that she would receive her punishments.

i see now her crimes were against you.

was it enough for you to take everything back?
she took your words, twisted them
into dreams.

but you cannot take back nightmares.

dreams.

there was something i remember someone saying,
once,
about how they thought
my life should go.

they said it should have ended differently,
not the way i dreamed it.

i never told them how my dream went.

how everything was dark,
the sky fell down,
ripped the stars and the sun down
with it - crashing.

all i could do was run and run and run,
but the sun was coming down
burning everything up,
i was still alone.

then all at once it was stopped,
and i couldn't scream,
because there was no noise.

truth.

i am just a head in a crowd.

are you fitting in to everyone who is different?

yes, you had to ask.

how do i find myself
in the places i get to,
it's times like this
i wish i was a 1-800 number,
then i might have all the answers.

today your questions
are too complicated,
if only i wasn't on so much medication,
i could hear you out,
at least nod my head,
fake a reply.

you once said
i would never be the same
without you.

now i know you, i
know my options.
i'm not a toll free phone number,
but i don't need someone
i don't know to tell me the answers.

this is the only place i know.

if i had something to offer,
my head on a plate,
if i suffered more for you,
i would change your life,
give you something different
to live for,
maybe think about.

you see what you've had to do to me?

pomegranate girl.

hades has tossed you up,
into the world of the living.

but you know,
i don't think you want to be here.
your mother was enough for you
years ago,
when your face was young.

but the leaves are still missing from the trees,
no one is happy to see you.
weren't you the one
they called
pomegranate girl?

the boys laughed when they
spoke of your 'fruits',
you just thought they
were angry
that you were close to death.

for whatever reasons they might have had.

your mother only looked away,
almost didn't see you.
what right do you have?
to leave me alone; lonely,
with death.
he killed your father.
everyone you used to know.

your mother is cold, dry,
like the trees missing leaves.

could you carry her with you?

(s)uper (m)arket

some days i start to think
the sun is upside down.

was it always like this, or
is my world that different from yours?

you said my obsession with the sun,
the moon, grapefruits and melons,
you said it cancelled out your
cucumber fetish.

words for the crazy, i say.

when the sun is setting,
it is rising for me,
my life is just getting started.

take your pickle jars,
that's all your cucumbers are,
wrinkled pickles.

i won't be here
when you get home.
look for me in produce.