day 266

Mama
I do not want to be an architect anymore
I no longer see myself wanting to design
homes for people searching for a roof top sanctuary.
I would much rather
build a home for broken souls

***
You see,
the thing about broken people is...
they feel whole with jars of hope
half full.
hour glasses
of bottle lipped women
half empty.
Some times
the times fly quicker
spread wings like eager virgin church girls


We all just want to fly some times
We all just want to soar
to roar
cheer
shout, hear rustling leaves on the bottom of our
backs slipping into angel dimples
hear soft moans on newborn skin
I forget how it feels to be virgin some times.
To be completely whole
and pure
and natural
organic
I am one of those labeled food cans
donate me to a hunger shelter
I will hold you
and make you feel whole
but I do nott think you understand how far my wings can take me
on my own
I can walk on them
Stand on them, convince you that it is Autumn
in the middle of a tornado Summer
blow away house top roofs but
Mama doesn't know that I no longer wish to design roof tops
No
Rather spread my wings and let you hold me
let you
soar with me
til all the dead Autumn leaves turn red
and golden

"Stay golden my beautiful girl
stay golden
Stay golden my beautiful girl"
That is what my parents want
A trophy wife for a rich man
A smart man
That I will design kitchen counters smooth enough for our elbows to bump
and create crackling sounds of flexible backs
on
Making home made jars of love in a house made kitchen
I no longer wish to be an architect
I wish to fly and spread my wings to empty churches
Fill them like first time virgins
Lose my mind and dance mindlessly
into the arms of a broken soldier
**
where is your soul, you beautiful boy
where is your soul
I do not wish to build homes for lonely soldiers

Maybe temples


Bring your old virgin bodies
lay them to rest here
"Stay  golden my beautiful girl
stay golden
Stay golden my beautiful girl"
build temples with your broken souls
There is a reason why churches build around stained glass windows
They are made from the glass they prevent you from bleeding Autumn red with
on tornado Summer nights
while making love to soldiers looking for their dead souls
We all fight battles some times
We all build walls around our temples
wishing to stay golden
even if we're only half full
I've lost the other half of me trying to design safe havens
for the church girl dignities who love their mothers but hold lovers that dance mindlessly