Where is that girl?
The girl that took a T and two buses to surprise me with flowers?
Where is that girl that brought me to life?
Where is that girl go that held her head high and loved so hard?
Where is that girl that drew me pictures, sang, and played the guitar for me?
Where is that girl...?
Who took her away?
Who Changed the way the wind was Blowing?
Who gave her all of this hurt?
Where did the girl that played board games at the dinner table with me?
Where did that girl who called me her medicine, her home, her love...go?
I miss that girl
I miss that girl who wanted me to sit next to her and hold her close always
I miss the girl who was quiet when she was upset
I miss the girl that never wanted me to worry about a thing...
I don't miss the girl who wanted to have long drawn out arguments about the smallest things
I don't miss the girl who said hurtful things when she got mad
I don't miss the girl who pretended
Pretended that she knew what she wanted out of life
The girl that painted such a beautiful picture of our life together
The girl that took me around a favorite neighborhood of hers to look at houses...
The girl that talked about having kids
This girl painted pictures that I didn't even see
This girl now played guitar and sang when no one was around
That's not the girl I miss
This new angry, hurt, and hurtful person is not the girl I miss...
Where is that girl...?
Lost behind walls of uncertainty; latching onto anything...
Just to feel less alone
To not feel anything at all
I don't know that girl
The beautiful, soulful, strong woman I fell head over heals in love with
Is
Gone...
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
The back of the couch stays up
There's only one dish
One glass
One placemat
One piece of silverware in the sink
One set of work shoes
One set of keys
One side of the bed gets rested on
No one to press up against at night
The wine doesn't last
Trying to
Hoping I can
Wishing one day
One day you'll figure out what you lost
Hoping you
Allow yourself to feeeeel something at some point
Drops of water seem to have been temporarily tattooed on my face for the past month
My heart hurts
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
Today the leaves change
The roots of a tree die
Today the sky opens up and buckets of rain fall healing the world of thirst
My mouth is dry
Today there is an echo
The house is nearly empty
Today there is no home
The house is nearly empty
Today there is no silence
The sound of a heart aches
Today there are no nightmares
There are only crushed dreams
Today the trees fall
Obstacles and challenges await
Today there is an echo
The house is nearly empty
Today there is no home
The house is nearly empty
Today there is no silence
The sound of a heart aches
Today it is time to plant new trees, drink the water, strengthen the heart, and fight obstacles, fill the house with joy, find some comfort, chase dreams, and create a new home
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
The way your hands fit so well across the small of my back
The way you glance at me from the bottom of the bed
The way that sometimes it felt like we were the only two people that existed in the world
I miss the way we were
Dance with me
Play music with me
Talk to me
Laugh with me always
Let that never stop...
Our friendship is forever
Our love is pure
I miss the going to bed laughing with you at night
And waking up with you in the morning
The confidence you have in me
Our attachment to one another
I miss the way we were
I love the way we are
Always
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 2:18 AM UTC
A snifter of brandy leads to another
Soon I'll be tipsy, melancholy and discover
that two brandies do not an alcoholic make,
but a bottle? Now there's the shake.
This brandy brews the blues.
It's Amber caramel softness soothes your soul,
but screams the blues.
Your muse is lost in this bruise of blues
Like a long note on a saxophone disappearing.
Let's take a ride on down to the crossroads,
I'll bring the bottle, you bring the bottleneck slide.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
You reminded me of the pain I cause
You reminded me that you loved me
That you will always love me
You're leaving me
You're leaving me because I raise my voice to get my point across
That hurts you
I hate hurting you
Hurting you pains me
I raise my voice because I think if I get louder you'll be able to understand me better
I raise my voice because I was silent for too long
I raise my voice because I never let anyone hear me
I had this problem where people would talk
And I would listen
People would fight
And I would listen
People would belittle me
And I would
Listen...
I would just constantly listen to how
Useless I was
How amazing I was
How smart I was
How I never was...
Enough
How I constantly needed reassured that I was loved
Or right
Or wrong
I was always wrong
My thoughts were wrong
My actions were wrong
I had no mind
I walked on eggshells so often that my feet became numb
I was no longer walking on this earth
I was sitting...
But not for too long because then I was useless again
I was constantly working to be better
To love more
To make everything that was unhealthy for me...
Work
I worked so hard to mend something so frail
Together
I raise my voice because I feel like you're hearing me
But you're not listening
I cry because I'm breaking down that rope that was so strong between us
It could hold the whole universe
I'm sorry we argue
I'm sorry this is work
Relationships are work
I'm willing to be better
I'm wanting to be better
Without being too silent
Without being too loud
Without hurting you
The idea that you find leaving me equally as painful as staying with me
Oh
My heart is shattered
For my intentions were to only love you
That's all I do is fall in love with you
More and more
Every day
Even when I'm frustrated or mad and I raise my voice
To a level
That I don't even feel that I'm yelling
I love you
You are my world
You are my heart
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
I inhale
The scent of sweet flowers mixed with sunshine after heavy rainfall
I touch
The softness of a flower petal
silk
I see a prism
Shaped like an hour glass
I stare at something so beautiful
Something so hard to look at
I stare
I lay my body down into the grass
I hear the sound of nature singing to me
I touch the silk flower petals surrounding me
I stare
At the hour glass prism
I stick out my toungue
To taste...
The water off of the silk flower petals
The touch
So soft
The taste
So pure
I inhale
YOU
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
He said
Maybe
He said
I don't know what the future holds
He said
This might be able to work
He said
He cares...
She said...
What if?
She said
Let's get married
She said
Let's have babies
She said
I love you
She said
I care too much...
He said...
Maybe
He said
Never
He said
I can let my walls down...
She...
Smiled
She...
Shed a tear
She said
I love you
To
Someone else
But...
He said
Maybe.
And she melted into
another's arms...
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
Write everyday.
Write everyday no matter what.
Write even at a loss for words.
Write down the sounds.
I make notes of the plane crashes
I've never heard, the brook trout
that never shook pond water
onto the brittle grass when I didn't
catch it, or the thunder cup coil
I keep kneeing trying to give the overcast
over the mountain something to compete
with.
And I'm not sorry.
I'm not. I'm not sorry that my
reborn Christian best friend has seen the light,
and I still scoff when people pray over potatoes.
And I only believe in plastic Polaroid postcards
from last decade timestamped in the white space
with Bic black ink.
I'm not sorry for that.
And truth is, I've never washed this black shirt;
just hung it hoping that moths' would ****
the sweat spots and leave
the fabric.
I clenched the gold cap beneath
my ring finger from the glass green
bottle occupying my lips driving
down the Marsh Creek bridge.
I wanted to relate / to be relatable /
relative to the sedans, and seatbelts
too tight to breathe, passing me.
At the end of the bridge, where there was no chance
of drowning and the road color changed, I parked
in the driveway of a wooden house. Its blinds
were up, shades pulled apart with two hands
like gas station freezer doors, leaving them
vulnerable to the hiss of semi truck tractor
trailer high beams slicing through fifty +
raindrops per second going a few miles shy
of sixty-five, yet the people inside moved so freely.
I sat Indian-style—a term I learned at four
then learned it to be racist at fourteen—
in their driveway, and ate the gravel
they walked on trying to taste security
because all I'd had in the last few hours
were plates of refried fear.
Fear of audit, of my teeth breaking off,
and of ending up like Eric Garner
when I heard that wailing
Voice of Justice
coming for me in the distance.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC