Baby Clarence and I stared intently into each other’s eyes for a good minute,
Which felt like what infinite must feel,
And I knew the universe.
I am in love with being in love.
I cry by myself almost everyday, usually when I’m driving.
I find satisfaction in picking scabs.
I used to fear being hurt.
I’ve never really been romantically hurt.
I have dreamt that my poetry would one day make a significant impact on the world.
My dreams are often for telling.
I believe I came from somewhere else.
I feel others sadness, and so I cry.
I feel others happiness, and so I cry.
I feel others pain, and so I cry.
I try to protect my sons, but know they also feel sadness and pain sometimes,
and so I cry.
I daydream my death sometimes,
But I want to live forever.
I think of Jose all throughout the day.
I love him even probably more than he knows.
I talk to myself.
Sometimes I talk to Jose when he’s not there.
Sometimes I talk to Debbie because she must be here.
Sometimes I talk to God, is god there?
I have had dreams of flying my whole life.
I used to try to fly.
I still believe I can fly one day,
Or turn into a bird before I die.
I sing when I’m by myself,
In the car,
In the shower,
In the kitchen.
Sometimes I like to sing “somewhere over the rainbow”.
I love stories.
I write stories.
I think stories.
I tell stories,
Yet most people don’t know me
Because I can’t cry in front of people.
If I wanted to, I could sleep all day.
I once fell in love with an alien man in my dreams.
I woke up crying.
I’m afraid to lose my mind one day.
So I document everything.
I can smell pheromones.
I used to imagine I was a super hero when I was a little girl.
Sometimes I still do.
My poetry will be famous one day.
Hopefully while I am still alive.