My poems are entries to my invisible diary.

they scream secrets I’m too afraid to whisper.

relishing in my honesty, they roll inside lost hour glass sand

grazing in memories of words I never said.

i extract them from my womb

birthing all the pain of a still born child in blood torn tissue

and mucus filled with sticky confusions I still don’t understand

i cleanse them with my tears

years spent without a voice, i didn’t have a choice but to stay

Silent.

So I found dance. Rough callused feet blister in my pain as I prance each demon that hides in the shadows beneath my smiles away

revealing bruises in these stretch marks as I stretch my body into shapes of exulting happiness

and heartbroken tragedy.

dance is my escape

pirouette turns drowning in my tears as I recklessly abandon prison cells kept locked for far too long

Nobody knows the secrets of my heart except for poetry

and nobody sees the secrets in my eyes except when I’m dancing

caught in the essence of a love triangle within myself

dance and poetry, poetry and dance

the loves of my life that do not include a man.

waiting for him to Be my poetry, is like waiting for rain in a drought

so I find fairy tales in my jazz shoes, Dancing my vulnerability in full view without the backlash of being raped in my tears

and write happy endings with my quill pen , in hope that these words will float off of my tongue into silent breezes mingling with fate

for rough hands primed to love me just as much as I love him envelop my body into shattering butterflies

for flowers to sprout from our hearts, into meadows seasoned with the salt water of our tears and the sunshine in our smiles

for a voice

a voice drowned in second chances

intoxication and euphoria interlocking in our kisses

when the physical love of my life appears, I 'll write him love poems and dance him symphonies for every guy who left me slaughtered in crime scenes of loving a little bit too hard.

as long as he cancels out the expiration dates carved in my heart,

i'll patch the gashes left in my soul for falling a little bit too much

and taste the bravery on my tongue as I continue to make love to my words

thrust myself into the depths of my poetry's fragrance

i will climax while dancing to rhythms complete with ecstasy that caress my skin until I shape my limbs, transform my body into music I never knew the words to

I will whisper his name against paper,

tattoo his voice inside the lines of my spine and drink the ink until I choke on his presence

until his essence regurgitates out of my mouth into a soliloquy of complicated cursive erupting in my notebook

overflowing the pages,

truth seeping out of the folds, traveling through my pen to my torn fingertips,

awakening my blood pulse until I am dancing in love again.

These words are my life line, oxygen mask in heart-ached gas chambers blended in steps of determination.

when I find him. . .

He will be my poetry

and I, his favorite dance.