I'm scared of the morning because of it's honesty,
the way it can strip the night of it's pointe shoes
and reveal the wounds of a bare foundation.

bones shiver as the sun rises,
the ******* of the night revealed;
skin under covers in the early hours more adorned
than the bare flesh of the evening waltzing to anothers movement.

I'm scared of the morning because of it's urgency
the way the sun is already racing down towards the horizon,
just to stare the skyline in the face with it's eventual blushing.

the worst part of falling asleep next to you
is knowing that morning will come
and it will promise to come over and over again
but you will not.

nr 2023.

I thought if I let my heart bleed into my hands I would be able to mold it like clay into a form that wouldn’t be too heavy for you to carry

I thought that someday all these tears would wash away the pain I was feeling and leave me floating in your arms.

when I felt scared and alone I’d leave the television on, hoping the lights and sounds would keep away the monster that kept trying to lurk in my head.

I wish I knew that monster was only trying to save me - he wanted to whisper the things in my ears that I refused to believe you never said to me, to drag me kicking and screaming off the bed that comforted me with the scent of you from last night. he wanted to touch me and send shivers down my spine in the same way you did - he wanted to show me that sometimes evil is a boy with dark eyes and brown hair. that the monster isn’t hiding under your bed, but laying next to you in the sheets.

njr

I’m not crazy, I’m scared.

how can I apologize for the marks I’m leaving on your skin?
the way my fingertips are digging trenches into the same arms
that wrap around and comfort me?

how can I explain that though I’m planted on solid ground
I feel as if my ankles are being grabbed by unforgiving hands
and trying to pull me far far away.

as I’m dragged away I’m desperately trying to hold on,
but the tighter I grab your hand
the harder my nails dig into your palms
and pieces of you become pixelations
that disappear into the nothingness
leaving me with less and less to hold.

why do I push away all that I wish to hold close
why do I hurt everything that I want to keep safe
and why does love scare me so much that it makes me crazy
and turn me into everything I never wanted to be.

how can I explain that I’m trying not to be this way,
how can I apologize to myself when I feel defenseless.

I’m not crazy, I’m scared,
of getting everything I’ve ever wanted,
just to watch it slip right through my fingers.

{Nicole Joanne - 2022}

how will I know it's the right time
when even the moon and the sun change the hour they rise?
day switches to night,
and still the answer is cloudy in my mind.

sometimes the rain drowns,
other times it nourishes -
where lies the accuracy between too much and too little?
what if I wilt? but what if I flourish?

the roots of evil and good are alike,
sprouting from the same place of wanting change
though, change is only a quarter of the process
leaving a great deal into the arms of gamble.

even if the clock inevitably strikes nine,
and clouds are grey with storm-like signs,
and my thoughts are repeating the same **** line,

how will I know when it's the right time?
and is there even such a thing?

{Nicole Joanne - 2022}

taking shots of whiskey instead of bullets,
i’ll wake up in the morning with a hole in my heart, but not through my chest.

bleeding out in the form of words I’ll soon forget, words I’ll come to regret. my dress stained only with spilled liquor and the hands of people I’ve never met.

my world is spinning so I’ll make my head match. I’ll dance until the lights go on, and my vision goes black. what kind of life is that? what kind of life is that.

ill make the first move, *** and coke - actually, make that two.  lead me to the dance floor, sway back and forth - no longer in my hands, my fate is in the glass.

one day I’ll find the life I’ve been chasing. kitchen dancing and movie nights, children laughing, alone time. the bottom of this bottle won’t bring me home, but I keep chasing. I keep chasing.

nicole joanne 2021

I wish I had known that the ring on your finger disappeared when you were with her, that I was just a placeholder
in case you never got the chance to hold her again.

I wish I had known the last time we kissed. I would’ve paid more attention to how your closed eyes were painting me into her image. Your hands interweaved through black strands, moving slowly unto pale skin. How you morphed the mountains of my bones into the soft hills of her baby face.  How your tongue danced around the fact that I was not her.

I wish I had known the dull in your rainbow eyes were because brown looking glass could never take you to the valleys of her green irises. That I was lightning, a quick spark, something that reminded you of a brighter day when all felt cloudy.

Had I known you never loved me,
I wish I could’ve said I’d have walked away,
but even the moon shows it’s face sometimes
in the light of day: and I’m sure I would’ve loved you that way.


N.R

love is more than just a language between two people.
it's several phrases, actions, and words
foreign endeavors and behaviors,
thoughts,
all together as one.

as those speaking acts of love,
we expect those we speak to
to understand.

but we all speak different forms of love;
compatibility of such revelations are misunderstood.

love is an adventure
a search for whose language of love,
though different from one's own,
can be interpreted and understood;
and wished to be learned.

though to learn a love is easy,
to comprehend anothers love cannot be forced.

love is tragic
an algebraic expression with several substitutions
and a million different answers;
but only one is correct in the mind of the beholder.

love can be the worst or the greatest thing;
unrequited can ****,
but when it works out;
it can live forever.

N.R 2017