buzzed

my love for him is bright white.
neon lights.
how do i keep it under control?
with only so many ways to express
that his mouth holds the universe
and his voice
is eternal,
i remain an ever-filling, overflowing vessel.
one day, i will crack –
a clay pot in pieces –
and my heart will float into the sky

fog

i am a weak type of woman,
easily broken like brittle glass
by hard things.
sticks and stones.
words and phrases.
my brain is a sick one;
it tells me lies that i believe are truths
because i’m really just telling them to myself
in my voice
and if i can’t trust my own voice,
what can i? what am i?
i can trust the hardness of stones,
life,
the piercing pain of shattering
glass
resolve