Wednesday, December 21, 2016







"I'm jealous of your happiness,"

you told me. Instead of being alarmed,
instead of protecting 
all the light in my eyes from you, 
I thought this meant I wasn't doing 
what I should be doing. 
"It's not your job," my mom reminded me, 
real love reminded me. But to me it was, 
& now here I had to be happy for two people.
I had to unchain my self control 
to try & build you a garden 
you had left neglected.
I planted the seeds of my own memories-
this is what love looks like, 
can't you see it! 
I picked all my flowers 
& gave them to you 
but you held them like weeds 
& asked what they were.  
All my wishes blew away in the wind.
You saw thorns & mud 
& I felt my failure 
to make you see what I do.
but this is not where love grows, 
this is where I learn to leave 
what hangs heavily on me. 
        .Laura Curren.






Waiting rooms contain
the energy of all your

thoughts waiting for you. 









I can tell you want to feed off of my reactions.
Your aggression murders the romance of conversation.
Words are twisted until I can't even see their shape anymore.
You want me to be angry like you.
You want to feel in control.
You want to stomp loudly & carry a big stick.
but I won't pull swords out of my throats like this.
I won't shoot poison arrows that blame bodies for being in the way
I can suspect at the core you're just a little boy inside,
just a man who has suppressed cries,
& if pain stays in the corner it was cast
then it's shadow begins to rip the light out of the room.






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