ivyparks

the sun is rising, and from my
window i can see the way the maple
tree sways in the wind, dancing
along to the earth's howling. 

i look around me and all i am is
tired, tired of the bed that makes my

i have so much of you in my heart,
but i do not think that i can call the feeling
within me love because there is
an overwhelming bitterness that comes
along with it that it hurts.

young, i am like a bruised

purple and blue and red,
she is the spring rain as it washes
over your body, a mere annoyance
in the wake of his storm.

she hurts and she grows,
like a rose, with her thorns drawing
blood from your greedy fingers,

        I think that maybe I'm not really growing up, but just growing older. Years can fly by, but I still feel the same as I did when I was a child, crawling and crying and looking for attention.

she sits on a sagging stump,
a cool dampness spreading across
the warm skin of legs as she
watches the world move around
her, hours passing by.

it's been a soft winter,
a breeze compared to the

in all my short time, the
literary references to icarus never
disappointed, but for the first time
i seem to find them so deeply and
heart wrenchingly relatable.

your sun rose, in a flurry of orange