The Door Opens Once MoreI am wandering, lost amidst my world. As I wander, I catch sight of you, standing through this open door. You lean against the doorpost, grinning as you gaze back into my eyes with renown passion. I cannot believe this! I thought I had lost you. I was certain of it. The door I walked through had shut behind me so long ago, I didn't even know there was the chance to open it again. Because, you were happy. I saw it. I wanted to fight it, to break down that door. But I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough.So, I walked away, defeated.I looked back once or twice, but I let it go. You were happy, after all. Why linger in what will never return?But now, you stand there again, gazing back at me as if I had never left. As if I had merely taken a step out. For air. Your hand reaching out, calling to me. Wanting me to return.But is it really that simple?I remember the past. I remember all my insecurities. All the voices of doubt the vibrated under my skin, telling me everything was wrong. I wasn
A Soft and Quiet LoveMy love,It is a soft, quiet love for you.It isn't full of passion or lust.It speaks volumes, but is nary ever heard.It is patient.And caring.Respecting you not of what you could be,But simply of what you are.What you have been.I love you,Just in my own quiet way.Watching from afar.To be as your Guardian.Your Protector.Your Kinship.I stay loyal as the hound by your feetStanding at your side at a moment's notice.Always loving you,In that soft, quiet way.
Never Good EnoughYour wordsCuts and gouges.The air licks my wounds and yetThere isn't a scratch on me.You remind me of it.The wounds you inflictThey are permanent.But the mirror you see yourself inExposes nothing.Not my broken heart,Not my exasperated soul.Only that I am just a little girl.Not good enough to be yours,Yet terrible enough to be considered beneath you.Time passes.I should be as an equal.And yet,I am never good enoughTo be what others claim I do rightly.Why?Because it is not what you asked.It was not in that fleeting mind you carry.Your thoughts do not reveal constant consistency.Instead, you blame me for your shortcomingsFor my lack of clairvoyance(Something that most people aren't gifted to begin with).And dance around the phrase:"You are a terrible person."But I hear it in the words you don't say,I feel the stings,The jabsThe cuts and gouges with every word you utterWith every action of defiance against me.Am I worthles
Tucked AwayRemember that hole we found ourselves in?The dark and empty space.We would share our secrets.Our hopes.Our darkest fantasies.We would laugh because it was safe here.In this spacious treasure chest,This genie lamp of dreams.We would crawl out and swipe off the dirt.And, it would be our secret,Just you and I.I've been looking to go back.I wonder if your there?If you've been waiting there long?I hear your whispers in my dreams to return.That you've been sitting there,etching out our secrets in the dirt,Our dreams against the walls.Your smile.It's warm and inviting.I want to come in.I want to feel safe.But this hole,It's getting darker.It's getting harder to make our your shapes.Make sense of the world around you there.It makes me want to turn back.To go back into the light,even if it means I must return to being hunted.BecauseI can't tell anymore.And, I'm not sure you can either.
Shell of AngerTeeth chatter in anger, trying to contain emotions.I want to scream, but eyes stare me down,holding me in place.Binded by society, I cannot escapeCannot find an outlet.I am struggling to breathe,anger consumes.I am the dutiful wife no longer.The comradeThe friendI am (apparently) the enemy.Made to forgive and give and give.Punished to take, take, take.How does it end?How will it end?
Georgia"Life ain't meant for the slow..." Georgia shouted as she bolted off down the street.It was always hard to get a read on her. Named loosely after her grandfather - they had all wanted a "George" but the double X thing worked out - she wasn't quite what they expected. As a family, they had grow up pretty close to home, both in spirit and in behavior. But Georgia, somewhere in her teenage, growing up years, sprouted some curiosity. She began to question everything more than we thought she would. No harm in that, except when it got on the nerves.But, Georgia, well, she took the spirit of George, I guess. Tall and sturdy, she had just enough meat on her bones to call her fit. And if one ever thought she crossed the line, well, they just needed to see her in action. Always running in some tanned shorts, riding just about mid-thigh. Legs and calves taunt from the constant chase of an idea. Her mind moved as fast as her feet, hardly keeping up in those run-down tennis. But she loved the com
Mr. WhiskersMr. Whiskers was a tired old man. He sat inside his lonely apartment staring at the blank, slightly graying walls. Most of the pictures held smiles of family members long gone. No one loved him anymore. No one wanted his wisdom – which bounded like stumbling rocks and sounded just as clear. He hadn't truly talked to anyone since the funeral of his wife's passing. He had gargled thanks to the neighbors and their few remaining friends. He hadn't wanted his son to stop by. They hadn't spoken in over ten years. His mother only at Christmas, and then she'd be the one to call. Mr. Whiskers doubted his son's interest in them.Now, he was all alone. Left to discover a game of Mahjong installed on his computer. As he matched tablets on the game he thought of his life, whether he should continue it without her. After all, she was the reason to get out of bed in the morning. She sprung to life so easily. Did a million things in the house while he stumbled to get his coffee. And right as he
Leaden HeartDays go by as I wonder where this feeling comes from. I say it is like lead, but the feeling grows more complex than that. I feel these dark anchors latched to my heart - casual but stern. They have a solid hold over me and they want to pull me down. I feel every link of their chains tugging deeper into a void I may never find, disappearing into a darkness I may never understand.Sometimes, their grip is loose, or weak. My heart rises above the void, buoying up too high. It gets caught against the walls of my throat - too big to rise up; too desperate to sink back down. Sometimes my body amazes me in that I never seem to choke on the vital organ.And then there are times when I am blessed. My heart has slowed it's fight and grows patient. It beats and, although it fights to keep me alive, the struggle isn't so hard. It doesn't thump against my chest for the world to see. All this time, I thought my body was too small, my skin too thin and thus my heart overexposed. Now I understand. My
Growing UpIt's funny, growing up. One minute we're like these little people. Wanting to be heroes, or explorers. Wanting to be the first. The first female president or the youngest superstar. We draw out our dreams - first, in pencil, then in crayons. Then, we write out our hopes, our goals. Nothing could stop us. The road ahead is clear and bright. Maybe we'll cross a few pebbles, hit a pothole or two. Nothing big. Nothing earth-shattering.Before we know it, we've graduated. We made it. The hard, stupid part is over. Or, at least, we thought. But then, a snag. School. College. We must continue to learn our desired profession. How mixtures work. How rules are made and followed. What's implied. When to interpret. Our minds gather info and implode with knowledge. They never taught us that in High School! Some things we find great, others tedious. But, that's the price we pay to follow our dreams, right?Wrong! Because school costs money. And, mommy and daddy can't help anymore. So we go out to th
Growth water in a river bed alters its course, its depth reshapes its banks much as time, experience &
DuskStars melt and flood thenight sky, lighting the way tountold days ahead.
DawnFortune awaits youin silvers and golds; holdingbrighter tomorrows.
A Moth Among ButterfliesOnce the colors runAll that remains to be seenIs an ugly face
CCLXXXVIsaplingsbent with snow...getting old
A Sad HaikuWithin the calm lakeLain 3 connected itemsA rock, rope, and body
UntitledDried up dark gray rainThe sun punches deep wide holesIn the cotton candy balls
outside looking inAlone in a room full of peopleIntruding on societyMute though inner babble fills your headStanding awkwardlyEscaping to open groundWatching chattering souls and busy techiesFrom a vacated benchNow you stare at bare treesPondering the multi coloured autumnDo the trees miss the leaves they bore?Or simply accept the fact they must fallWatching animals forageConstantly looking about themselvesYou identifyWatching all life's different childrenSubtle interactions others missAll because you'reOn the outside looking in
LiarHe said he lovedme, that I was the onlyone for him - all lies.
Working HandsHis hands, so callusWeathered by the trials of lifeBecoming honest