Tag Archives: writer

Trauma

Wind waves pass,
Saying hello,
The house stays still,
Not wanting to play,
Ignoring the breath,
Staining the window.

Only the sound of time,
Remnants of moments,
That were once inviting,
Now covered in layers,
of distance and neglect.

A shell
Of a life once lived,
Etched with meaning,
Within its organs.

Trees are ever changing,
Waiting for a jolt,
From a storm or
An awaiting rainbow,
To bring a pulse,
Back into it’s walls,

And the wind,
Will come dancing through
As an old friend.

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Follow the Signs

The sliding glass door opens.
They stop a few steps in the door.
Their eyes adjusting to the busy atmosphere.
I try to guess who is who,
They look so small, so innocent.
So many people moving in all directions,
Voices loud and unnerving,
Everyone with a purpose, a destination,
Ordered Chaos, I call it.
They begin gesturing towards maps and signs,
Looking for clarity,
This is a place of questioning,
Clouds of whys travel behind smiles of frequent flyers.
For every sun that can break through,
it helps ignore the cold that hangs at our feet.
They won’t remember my face,
Theirs will be etched in my mind,
I know what they will eventually need,
No surprise when they end up at my desk with bashful eyes,
Oh, how I hope they are that bright when they return,
I want to gather them in my arms,
but I have to tell them,
as carefree as possible,
as if it won’t change their lives,
Elevator to floor 3,
Follow the signs,
For Cancer Research.

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Tuesday

Today, I was stupid,
I was a human,
I made a human mistake,
A simple miscommunication,
A word slipped past my ear,
too much going on,
it missed it’s exit,
So, I end up stumbling,
blind to the quick sand at my feet,
until its up to my neck,
I had a moment to decide,
to sink or swim,

My heart feels like its going to explode,
hours after the sand has seceded,
I feel as though I am sinking,
but
I swam,
I swam,
I swam.

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Too Good

I wait for you to finish your thought,
the next one and the next,
I sit, patiently,
until my spine can no longer support my back,
I wait for you to ask me a question,
anything, just something to acknowledge,
I still exist somewhere in the back of a dusty filing cabinet.

I’m tired of leaving bread crumbs,
hoping you pick up the trail of my desperate heart,
I feel stupid needing some validation.

I am quiet, I know,
but my head is always busy, see,
I need you to help me let some of the voices escape,
One bounces off another,
I forget which one is the original,
Ask me how I am,
or how work is going, or how I like my tea,
or if i’m sleeping, if my mom is doing okay,
if I need anything, if I need a break,
if I am eating, if I am here,
something to pull me out of my own head,
maybe the voice that responds will be mine.

Ask me if I know what I am doing,
I have been doing a great bit of pretending,
fake confidence till you make it, they say,
I have been faking a lot of everything lately,
but I never guessed that I could have fooled you,

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Light

The fan turns,
and turns
and turns,
until it’s swirls of greys and whites
A transporter in time,
My eyes close,
I can see your sleepy smile,
Hear your shallow breathing,
Feel the weight of your arm on my hip,
Aftershave drifts across the pillows,
I’m slipping,
For a moment, I forget the trick,
Until I wake to a room too bright,
With all of the covers,
You used to turn off the light.

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Here But Not There

There is something
in the way you linger
through every room
in my heart
but the key
is how you are missing
with reaching fingers
and empty air.

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Broken- A Rewrite

Every poem that begins,
Sounds like a eulogy
That I will have to give.

Forgive me.

I can’t paint you
Into a thousand words
Watercolors always bleed
One thought into another.

The mind doesn’t allow
The ignoring of obvious possibilities.

Imagination, a child’s play thing,
The child being my anxiety,
My mind the playground,
The ground is lava.

My hands are always slipping
Across the monkey bars.

Is this insanity?

Maybe if I will it hard enough,
Lily pads will appear beneath my toes,
Will I be strong enough to let go
And trust that everything won’t burn?

I’m pink with the rising heat
Someone has a basketball
Thump,
Thump,
Thump,
It vibrates though my body.

It is not me.
It is not me.
It can not be me.

Hanging above a deathlike pit,
Allows your mind to wander.

Imagine the tips of my fingers
As mini concrete cinder blocks,
Holding me in the air,
Like a circus trick.

I hold all my strength in my hands,
Out in the open for people to see,
If they wish to acknowledge it,
Strength can be intimidating.

Better to be left unsaid.

Better to fly across the monkey bars,
Show your flair and speed,
Those are qualities they want to see,
It is weakness to struggle.

Even if that struggle,
Means hanging everyday,
Over lava,
Thump, thump, thump,

Heart is always racing in your ears,
A reminder you are alive,
Keeping on the pressure,
With the rising heat,

That you must not let go.

Isn’t that strength?
Never letting go.
Even though it would be easier,
To get some long deserved relief.

So, my words can keep sounding,
Like a eulogy that I will have to give,
But I’ll use them as gloves,
To keep my self up in the air.

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