I Will Live Alone Detached But I Will Be No Spinster Perhaps Instead A Weaver Of Loose Threads That Flow

I, who speaks often But says much of nothing I, who pictures the words That do not come out That stumble over My tongue and teeth My brain a stuttering Then silent and empty

I will my words into being In a moment's pause In the quiet of the writing When my mind races And I can catch my thoughts I send you my voice You, who reads me You, who's eyes Pass over my letters

I, who does not screech Like the hawk in the sky Nestle my meanings in The wanderings of creatures In the sun and the trees They, who speak The same language as me Who might interpret while I am just talking to you

Icicles on a tree branch, glittering The barren thing adorned anew Similar to the way the leaves grew When birds were still out twittering

The ice hangs like daggers or teeth Or diamonds hung around a neck A delicate or dangerous effect Be wary those who pause beneath

To catch them as they drip and fall And crash upon a wooden floor Shattered, a delicate thing unmoored Such glass is sweet at the end of it all

I felt alone in my skin No, worse so I was a hostage inside myself Choking on a growing body Suffocating in adolescence

My pretty hair was like rope Tying me to a chair Shackled, cuffed I wore a constricting costume That was too hot and sweaty

And I was stuck there Because my flesh Could not be pulled off Up over my head, yet My bones were aching to breathe

Touch may not be necessary for me That warm, skin to skin connection Has never felt as vital as an emotional one

Until I find myself clawing at a stranger Until I am turning my head to the side Avoiding kisses, because that's too intimate And my body wasn't asking for intimacy

In all honesty, I don't even like being touched I avoid situations that involve closeness No need to hug anyone just for the hell of it

Until I wrap my arms around a lover Who's name I've mixed up with the last one's I never picture the ones I really crave Who's touches I am actually yearning for

Certainly I can live my life without touch I don't need it like I do good food or drink It does not sustain my soul like poetry does

Until I remember all the ways I've burned The way you struck your fingers like matches On my hands, on my lips, the entirety of me Inside our fire I have wanted and wanted

But that's really all distant memory now I think I'll slide touch up high on my bookshelf Somewhere between fantasy and memoir

There are cracks In the pavement Outside my window Where trees have Stretched out their Roots, like the Asphalt is simply A weighted blanket

When the garbage Trucks bounce and Thunk over those Bumps in the road I can almost hear The trees laughing

Fire in the sky How do you still surprise me? Little sun just begun to rise And for me, no one

A glow in the night Or is it suddenly day? Your presence a heavenly, Astonishing light When you fall take me away

Do actions really speak louder than words? If so, my actions are to Put pen to paper, to share, to express What I otherwise could not unscramble in my mind.

The action of showing you my heart, A glimpse into my private sanctuary; That is a commitment I could not Match with gestures or tangible doings.

With each letter I unfurl What I've hidden deep within my proverbial soil, Unraveling all my coiled roots and Rebuilding myself piece by fragile piece.

Maybe from words we can take away this: I am crafting, I am weaving, I am building a solid foundation upon Which all my intentions have the space flourish.

Your mind is a carousel Of recycled thoughts Cyclical relapses Up and down Between your Rejected horses You are continuously Bouncing backwards And I'm not along For the ride

I'm so terrified Of lava I dream of it Flowing up mountains

Tell me why you ban the books Which tell stories of Two male penguins adopting a child, Books that show disabled kids And gender non conforming kids And black kids whose teachers Forget their names?

Tell me why you ban the books That challenge you Because they are written plainly About plain people Who are different from you?

Tell me why books are taken off shelves For being too explicitly queer When you force children to read Passages from the bible about Rape, genocide, slavery, and a hateful god? Why is your book not banned For depicting in detail such things?

What makes your book the exception? You censor children from truths And teach them a god will hate them Because they are different You teach children to hate themselves Because your book holds no space for them