on moving on (part 2)

some people are cooked pineapple.
pineapple is good as is,
so why cook it?
cooked pineapple is good,
on a pizza, with olives.
but sometimes you tire of pizza,
or you run out of olives.
you can't fix everyone,
you silly virgo babe.
and some people are better
loved from afar

on moving on (part 1)

home.
i used to think i needed a someone or a somewhere
to be home.
at the end of the day,
we would come home to each other.
your smile shined, it radiated from my eyes
the warmth of your arms
burst out of the core of my very being.
we'd come home.
to our little apartment
on the sixth floor
of one of thousands of buildings
in a city so full of life,
in a city that didn't even know my name.
but i knew hers.
i knew her name and her love and her comfort.
that city,
that building,
that apartment was "home"
but why shouldn't i be my own home?
with no limits but the edge of my skin?
the universe within me
as much as i am within it?
i am free.
i can fly.
i am home.

a slightly manic tuesday morning

i cleaned my toilet today.
no. i really cleaned it.
i scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,
until it was devoid of all memories,
of a few too many chips,
and "undeserved" bread,
and extra guac.
i scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,
until it was, yet again, a mere toilet.

i cleaned my mirror today.
no.  i really cleaned it.
i scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, 
until it showed no trace
of "too much" or "not enough"
which are one in the same, really.
visions of thighs colliding,
and stomachs folding.
i scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,
until i saw only a mirror.

i did laundry today.
no.  i really washed it.
i washed and washed and washed,
until i forgot about small, medium, large,
no longer saw muffin tops or sausage-legs,
just cute, comfy, colorful.
i washed and washed and washed,
until clothes, once again, were just clothes.

i did dishes today.
no. i really washed them.
i scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,
until they were no longer the home of the enemy,
intimidating fortresses,
dark caves full of strange creatures.
i scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,
until they were simply pieces,
of porcelain, metal, and glass.

the one thing i didn't do.
was eat.
i suppose i forgot.
oh well.
maybe tomorrow.