Tag Archives: writers life

Do You Know Where You Live?

I know where you live.
Over between confident and insecure.
Your house takes up the entire block.
Monday to Thursday,
You live in the right wing,
Relishing time to yourself,
Until alone becomes lonely,

But on Friday,
You do a cartwheel to the left wing,
Where you are a superhero,
An angel by day, fighting crime by night,
You could conquer the world.

You say hello to a stranger,
Allow someone to invade your personal space
by sipping coffee at a table next to yours,
You make a joke with the barista,
Watch the sunset through your iphone lens,
Have drinks at a crowded bar with your friends,
Lead your group to the corner booth, you on the inside.

By Sunday night, You are crawling back to your hollow abode,
energy depleted, proud of your accomplishments in the world,
You went all out, had real experiences.

By the next morning,
you are back being unassured,
wondering if the barista laughs at everyones jokes,
Was the sun really those bright colors, or was it just a filter?
Would that guy you had been eyeing,
the one with the blue eyes and smile so wide,
have approached if your heart hadn’t gone silent?

You have pride in being a strong, independent woman,
but are you strong
if you can’t control your thoughts,
if your actions are based on the weather?
Are you independent, or just alone?

I have to tell you,
it is strong to know what you can handle,
to work with where you are,
it is an accomplishment to understand recovery,
You…I am a strong, independent woman,
who knows where I live.

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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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Underneath

At ten years old
she should tuck her braids
behind her ears so the
sun can reach her face.

Her worries should be
keeping her balance
to keep her record
of perfect hop scotch.

She should feel the grass
inbetween her toes as
she collects dandelions
along the stream.

She should be asking
how she can reach
the sweetest berries
on the highest tree.

But quietly in her room
she is burdened with
asking the questions
beginning with why.

Every morning she wakes
reminded quickly of
the weight she feels
on her shoulders.

She has a perfect
record of balancing
conversations with
her younger sister.

At ten years old
she tucks the strap
of her mother’s bra
underneath her sleeve.

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Gladiator

I don’t have any fight

left in me.

I find myself saying Yes,

my soul saying No.

 

I keep forcing the battle

into a MMA cage,

My heart still comes bruised,

rusty and wasted.

 

The only sign outside

are the half moon

dents implanted

in the palm of my hand.

 

I’m so tired,

Wanting to stay

in my bed tired,

my face in a pillow.

 

I need a release.

Something more than

shattering a wall

of disappointment.

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I am a beginning

I am no longer new and shiny,

The gloss has worn off from wear and tear,

I sink to the bottom of the deck,

To sit among the others who are not worthy.

 

Betrayal, Jealousy, Anger

A few emotions that are cancer to the heart,

A dark cloud that encompasses your soul,

Leading you to feel discarded in a hole.

 

It’s hard to shake a feeling so strong,

A loss of one’s worth is destructive,

Although, it can take a single good thought,

A prick of a needle to deflate the balloon.

 

It takes some remembering,

A jolt of electricity to kick start the mind,

To rescue the heart that is badly beaten,

Pull it up from beyond and nurse it slowly.

 

The end is as important as the beginning,

A person’s life sets off in directions by catalysts,

Beginnings of journeys can change a person’s life,

Webs interconnect from heart to heart.

 

I am a catalyst.

The first domino to fall,

I started a person’s major life journey,

My part is just now over.

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Missed Exit

On the highway,
I’m in the fast lane,
But cars still pass by.
So many parts of me,
That I’m happy to be,
But I’m missing scraps.
You have to smile,
When your life is blessed,
Just out of respect.
Life is so fulfilling
Yet undeserving
If my heart is silent.

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How I see it

To divulge in the truth

these days, is truly a sinful

treat, a white lie has become

the creme de la creme, shame

in a world that is often praised

by man, what do we have to

stand on, the foundation is

crumbling with every child who

asks, “What do I say?” Clouded

judgment of the superiors, what

is best is not always right, or am I

getting it wrong again, I’m sure

I’ll be corrected, wait till the world

finally sees how it ends.

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