Coco

And they called it puppy love

We met in junior high
I guess they call that middle school now

At eleven years old I betrothed myself to you
Love at first sight I proclaimed it to be

Your soft autumn eyes —
I stare across the quad, I am a moth to a flame

Sharing the same homeroom
I got to hear your name and draw it in my notebook

He is PERFECT I thought as I doodled hearts
sharing the same last name, I could keep my identity

I bonded my heart to yours
there could ever be no other

My mother taught me
never to chase a boy

So, I would wait patiently
explore other boys to best prepare

Knowing that you would be my sacred oath
I to you, and you to I, a ring to represent our affinity

But time turns a warm love cold
Leaves that wither and crackle beneath missteps

Over mistruths , and betrayals burn coals to ash
My unwavering love chopped down like a methuselah tree

Something that I thought never could be
My roots have turned to rot

Your stare across the room burns icy cold instead of hot
Desire, trust, passion, and loyalty broken branches that will never heal

Our affinity now a punishment, a branded and carved treason
Your lustful and wandering eyes I am sawdust at your feet

We may share a bed, a roof, a warm or cold meal
But there is nothing left of me,  left to feel

I am a stump you chop at to make your firewood

A Poem for my High School English Teacher Mr. DiConti 

“such sad poems!” words no bigger than pixie footprints
written at a 45-degree angle, a line slashed between our text
the month and date stamped this entry 12/9
your words like a whisper on the page

it was a Friday in 1994 according to my much bolder writing
my previous poetic entries were titled: “Death” and “Raped”
i really didn’t care that you were reading my truths
to be honest i was surprised you read them at all

in a bungalow of 35 students we sat in tight corn rows 
no windows, or central air, just a Kelly-green metal door
did you truly read every page of juvenile scribbled confessions
my first two entries not poetic at all – a normal girl’s diary

it felt too false, writing snippets of forced flimflamming
so i entrusted my gospel to a blank page forged by screams
words flowed with cold sweat down my brow in that scant room
“your poems make ME want to slit my wrist” I smile to myself

Misplaced

Unwanted, unloved, misplaced, 

and uncared for is how I am feeling now.

Not a soul in the world understands –

nor care to.

I am shun from the world. 

A freak to all who know me. 

Misplaced am I. 

I wander around in search –

of a place I may go to. 

A place that will accept me,

and let me leave all my troubles behind.

I thought that place was here,

but I was told that I was wrong.

A freak still am I. 

Still looking, stand wandering,

wondering if there will ever be a place 

for me.