Prowler scowler
cat of night
huntress
tiny feline fright
dress me up with scalloped edges
silent stalking
city ledges

Lightening strikes quick
to find its ground

that's how I knew.

and with 
a touch 
of your hand

a world began.

come to me

dear

more near

and in the winter

you may smell roses

where there are

none

little queen

she's lost her gown

this tiny flower

is all she owns

little doll

grew underground

her eyes to see

what there was found

the dark

the seeds

the roots

grew leaves

and tiny trees

graced both her cheeks

Palest queen
of ice and snow
just lack of warmth
and H2O
In her camouflage of white
she nearly fades just out of sight.
A fortress of twigs will keep out most
except for those who can see
this ghost.

Cross my heart
and hope to die
Stick a needle in my eye
All my promises are breaking.
I know the cost
But who promised those things?
She no longer exists.

My hands make little hands.

http://murphydesign1.blogspot.com/2010/04/survey-select-press-release.html

I am the good baby.

I never make a fuss.
Such a quiet child. No demands. I can be whatever you like.
But watch out:
for all my sweetness demands a devouring.
One day I may swallow this house, but right before I do I will speak all of the things that I never said.

ferocious dark monster,
I dwell below.
A secret I'll share
and now you know:

I am only a small child.

Not seeing my mother, I believe myself abandoned.
I grasp at everything I can - and my cry is always for "MORE!"

You know who I am.
I am the part of you that is the ocean.

You didn't know we are the same?
Why do you think your tears are full of salt?
Your sweat?
And blood?

How long will I cry?
How long will you keep doing this to yourself?

Once we loved. 
Then, we parted. 
My wings became arms again. 
I speak now and seldom sing. 
But some things can never be as before. I pay attention now to different things 
 I hear the tiniest insect move beneath the ground.
Small hopes keep me alive 
like the way leaves 
still sometimes 
grow 
from the stumps of trees.

Mystery of mysteries: what is given returns.

Because I could not 

speak they thought 

I could not hear. 

Because my mind 

was new they thought 

I could not notice. 

But I saw 

everything even the 

invisible and I heard 

everything including 

the silences. 

I never spoke of it 

but much later when 

I was alone 

again all my tears 

turned 

to red.