I had a dream last night
that I couldn't remember
until three little words
brought it all back
In an instant
like a whiff of a smell
or the chorus to your favorite song
three little words brought
me something back
I had no idea that I'd lost
What do I do now?
I've been left a present
on the doorstep of my consciousness
nothing to do now
but acknowledge it
There is nothing to be done
nothing to say
other than a sigh
and that
I wish life was that way
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
Dear Loyal Customers,
I regret to inform you that My Heart will be closing effective immediately.
I have enjoyed having y’all as customers and we will miss you dearly.
Unfortunately, due to the recession, I must close our doors.
I cannot afford to stay open during this terrible economic climate.
So there will be no more bad choices, good choices or poor decisions.
I understand this maybe a shock to some of our most loyal customers; however, we know your wives, fiancées and girlfriends will be happy to have you home.
There is the possibility of starting up again, when I get enough credit to afford the costs.
Maybe in a different town, in a city far away, My Heart will open again, but until then, it has been a pleasure serving y’all for the past three years.
Sincerely
Cornelia
Owner of My Heart
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
The years before the drugs
before the smiles
the bright times
the easy nights
were dark
But I only knew darkness so
to me it was brighter than the sun
There were nights of red bull and vodkas
of googling obsessions
and losing my personality for a weekend
There were days and days of misery
my sobs
my screams
my nightmares
my tears
your tears
I would scream until the air in my lungs were gone
I would get down
I would run for hours
and I would feel my skin crawl
The years before the drugs I was cruel
a 13 year old girl with a razor sharp tounge
hell bent on expressing pain
any way possible
This experience isnt unique
but just because it isnt unique
doesn't mean I dont need to apologize
for the years before the drugs
I'm sorry.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
An old man once said, "Being in love is like the color TV, once you have it you never want to go back to Black and White"
This sounds too beautiful to be wrong
But too foreign to me to be right
So here I sit,
Remote in hand
Studying each channel I see
Looking for a hint of color
Does it happen all at once?
Or seep in through the corners?
Or a scene at a time?
Sometimes I think I see some color
Coming into the frame
But as soon as I think it
It’s gone before my eyes
Just a trick of the light
Back to that old black and white
Is that a new costar?
To colorize my life?
As soon as I see him
He’s gone
And I’m back to black and white
It’s too beautiful to be wrong
To unknown to be right
But when
Oh when
Will I have color in my life?
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
Whenever I pass
something
That shows a reflection
I can’t help but look
and see if I can see
the reason people
say things like:
Beautiful
Gorgeous
Lovely
Pretty
Every time I pass my
reflection
I’m on the lookout
I haven’t seen it yet.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
They say that smell
Is your strongest sense
When tied to memory.
That just a whiff of a smell
Or even thought of a
Smell can bring you back
To a place and a time that
You had previously
Thought were left behind.
For me the smell of
Bleach is comfort, as my
Nanny used it as a
Standard, household
Cleaner. I love that smell
As well as of my favorite
Dinner, mildew (reminds me of summers spent
At camp, living out of a trunk) and
My favorite flowers
Each of these smells I
Love to revisit time and
Time again. One smell
Though has embedded
Itself in my memory and if
I have my way, I’ll never
Smell it again.
Mom had Colon cancer most
Of my time in
High school.
No clue on the stage
But it was best not
To
Ask
Surgeries, chemo, radiation, the
Whole
Nine
Things seemed to be fine,
Well, even great
Until it took a turn
My mom has never been
Skinny; she is petite, but
Normal
Suddenly she looked like
A holocaust victim
She would get quiet
Draw into herself
For periods of time
Another surgery. Fine
She returned home
And then something crept in
That something was death
And I’ll never know how I knew
You just know.
The smell of something
Dying
Isn’t pleasant
It puts you on edge
And turns your stomach
Mom was confident
That she was getting better
The smell, that can’t
Be described (dying tissue, pain
Suffering) was glaring
To me
I never asked Mom or Dad
If they could smell it
Because the smell of Death
Isn’t a sense that should
Be shared
I would just maintain that
I didn’t think
Something was right
A day or so later
Surgery. Fine. Home.
Smell.
Surgery. Fine. Home.
Smell.
Surgery. Fine. Home.
After that last
Surgery. The smell
Left. But even now
When I think back
To that time
That complicated time of
Soccer games
Chemotherapy
Apply to college
Surgeries
The one thing in the
Foreground
Is
That
Smell
Just a whiff of death
Of human decay
Of dying
Of suffering
And I’ve had my fill
For a lifetime
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
I said our joke yesterday
And almost laughed
myself back
Your father's company
was at the exchange
And every broker had
your face
Your name
Appears in my phone
I try not to remember
your alcohol laced breath or
your beliefs on Taylor Swift
I read about the team
And think of you
You. All of you. Are now
apart of me while you are
apart of them
Where does that leave me?
Alone, incomplete,
thinking about you
who never thinks about me.
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
There is an unsuspecting spot
on campus
A lone bench at
the intersection of several
paths, that holds
unforgiving memories.
As I sit here
now
I am self-conscious
of the bench
I move.
I realize that this bench
only has the meaning
of sadness and tears
for
me.
I move back.
This bench, in the dead of night,
was the place
where I realized
I couldn't save you
You had more
pain
anger
and
fear
in you than I thought possible
I cried.
Your words, covered in
shame
regret
and
grudges
angered me
saddened me
moved me to tears
I held your hands
as they shook
and we cried
and I knew
I felt
as if
I lost you
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 1:51 AM UTC
I've never known anything
as dark as that November
When blinding brightness
vanished
replaced by a creeping darkness
which infected
wherever I laid my
thoughts.
Except for maybe
that December
When as others were fighting for their
GPA
I was fighting to
Keep my head above
water
Christmas break came
and I went
home relieved to
have made it
As my friends went to
places of worship
parties
malls
I went to
doctor's offices
pharmacies
my bed.
The office with its leather
couch, friendly dog
and a sweater-loving doctor
who listened
and listened
and listened
but never spoke
as I talked
and cried
and yelled of
my fears
obsessions
doubts.
He never said much
But finally wrote for me
some numbers
and one complex name.
I was saved.
I've never known anything as
dark as that
November
and
December
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
I can't speak for
all of us who wander
during the night.
The adventurer who explores hidden cities
The Thoreau who finds peace in the unconfined parts of nature
The worm, who buries himself deep into the worlds and lives of books
The ones searching for something
grasping out into the dark
I cannot speak for all of
us who wander but for
some the act of
getting lost
is the act
of getting found
and only under the veil of night
can we explore
cities
worlds
and
ourselves
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC