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She put the house up
For sale

I saw my past life
Flashing before my eyes

The kitchen
Where I made dinner
And that day I made more naan
Than we could eat, but I did it
Without my shirt on

The kitchen
Where she left me notes by the coffee pot
The coffee pot that kept me going on the hardest days

The kitchen
Where I hung that ee cummings poem somewhere I have never travelled gladly beyond

But she replaced it

Twice

The kitchen
Where she screamed at me
That time I had an accident
And melted

The kitchen
where I finally yelled
“I deserve to be with someone who wants to support me emotionally”

The living room
Where she threw that candle at me
And broke my foot

The living room
Where the television
Still holds my face print from when we hung it, and I almost dropped it

The living room
Where I spent days painting
But on the last day made her help
And I didn’t wear any pants

The living room
Where the couch we bought is 
falling apart from the time she fucked that other girl there and the lotion
The lotion ate away the faux leather

The dining room
With the chairs I hand sanded and painted
It took me a week
And cost me a pair of shoes

The dining room
Where I painted the built in cabinets with the wrong color because she didn’t help me that time

The dining room
Where we hardly ever ate

The spare bedroom
She told her parents was my room

And when I made it my office
She complained at the mess I work through

The spare bedroom
Where I painted alone
Again because she refused to help

The spare bedroom

The spare bedroom

And her bedroom
She painted again
The second time I left

She painted again on the day she demanded I come get my stuff

And her bedroom
Where she called the other side of the bed the pssenger side

And her bedroom
That she shared with me
And her and her and her and her

And her bedroom
Where she choked me in the closet

And her bedroom

And the front porch
Where I watched the rain
And read my books

The front porch
Smoking cigarettes

The back yard
Where I read books to her

The back yard
That she refused to fence in

The back yard

That caved in

The back yard
And the driveway
We resealed together
Pulling weeds and filling cracks

She put the house up
For sale
I walked through it one more time

And cried

And closed the door

Without slamming it

Without leaving a key
this time

I guess it’s haunted

I guess it’s time

A Manifesto

I am me.
My authenticity is raw intensity. 
I am magic. Powerful. 

A force to be reckoned with. 

I am love and light. 

I run with wolves and dance with the moon. 

I chase butterflies and open my heart to change. 
I am wildly loyal
and love with my raven heart.
I am opening
to the universal order and trusting my self. 
I am a writer.
My witch and my craft are not mutually exclusive. The pen is my wand. My words will heal. Alchemy is real. 

The map of my hand fills my life line with poetry. My heart line is no longer beating itself up-my fists have come unclenched from the things that are no longer meant for me.  

I am work and working
Process and progress. 

I am learning. 
Not all things require my energy. 

Not all people think the way I do, and this is a blessing. 

No is a complete sentence.
I am learning
To be gentle with my confusion. 
My feelings guide me, but do not rule me.
Asking for help does not make me weak. 

My shadow does not scare me. 

I feel fear, but I am not afraid. 

I feel angry and hurt. 

I am allowed. 

I am joy and pleasure. 
I am unlearning and
I am healing. 
          I dream

                      And

                             believe

In magic and music and the power of tiny puppies. 

I am yoga. 
Strong and bendy.
Slow and balanced. 

I am embodied. 
I am on purpose. 

Lost and Found

The pit catches
Your heart when it falls
To your stomach
Despair

Desperation
I can feel her
Looking at me
Discomfort

I look back
What else am I supposed to do?

I wish I could write about anything else
I wish the hook would come loose
I wish I could see the perfect life we live

When she tried to catch me
She only saw half of who I am. 

The scales of my lower half
Only for refracting light
Holding in my shiny. 

I glide through the water
Not swimming, rather
Being In between
here and there
Then and now
Her and I

Stopped

Azure. 

I wonder sometimes if it was her fault 

I know how much she hated children
I wish I could have known how

It would all work out
I don’t know 

Why we had to go
There just wasn’t enough space
In her house
Or heart for you
Or my love

Azure. 
Eyes telling stories 
Of time before we knew it