Sticky sweet memories
cling to the side
of my mason jar mind
Like blackberry jam.
Berries plucked
and kisses stolen
beneath a sultry summer sky.
Nothing but sweat and
white teeth and
purple stained finger tips.
But now it's cold--
too cold
for blackberries.
I spread what's left
of the jam
on some dry toast
And savor the taste.
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
I’ve reached a roadblock
in this punch-drunk--
The exhilarated semblance
of warm-color happiness
is peeled back
like the layers of an onion
to reveal raw, pungent inexperience
sincere in frankness,
yet clumsy in approach
The blurred lines of
tender affection
and pious adulation--
The muddy waters of
passionate attachment
and fiery dominion--
A foolish game
for a foolish girl.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
I am flesh
weak and bruised.
I am blood
dark and damning.
I am bone
rigid and cold.
I am flesh
soft and smooth.
I am blood
warm and teeming.
I am bone
strong and resilient.
I am flesh
and blood
and bone.
It is all I can be.
And it has to be enough.
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
Bated breath;
dry lips parted
attached
to tense limbs
and
cold feet stamped
on wet pavement.
waiting on words
to flow
from a swollen tongue
thick
with empty promises.
red eyes watch
with a façade of
jaded apathy
given away only
by dry lips,
tense limbs,
and cold feet.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
I grow up
but you don't
Etched in a memory
Laughing
Bereft of ego
and adult responsibilities
I grow old
but you don't
Stuck in the amber
of a yesteryear
Forever fourteen
White teeth and sweaty palms
I grow hard
but you don't
Frozen by a lens
Smiling
Nothing but sunshine
Behind bright, brown eyes
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
I remember vividly,
Thanksgiving, 1999.
I asked my mother
for a sip of her wine
(Pinot Grigio).
She hesitated, then laughed,
and let me press my small lips
against the rim
of the long stem glass.
The cool liquid
stung the back
of my throat
as it went down,
and I furrowed my brows
in disgust.
"Why would anyone drink this?"
Adult laughter erupted
around the table.
I didn't smile.
I wondered what they knew
That I did not.
Flash forward.
Present day wino
with a strong preference
for red
but a known policy
of indifference.
I enjoy it now.
But every once in a while,
I take a sip
that stings the back
of my throat.
And as I furrow my brows
in disgust,
I remember
That I still don't know
anything.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
We've been expecting rain
for three days.
The weathermen get it wrong sometimes too,
I suppose.
Besides, rain always seems to come
when you least expect it.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
If loving you is stepping off a cliff
I would gladly take that step
Over and over again.
Falling
down
down.
Tangled limbs and broken bones.
Smiling all the while.
Eyes
closed.
Nostrils
flared.
Lips
just
barely
parted.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC
I used to think that the penalty
for devastating loss
was a metaphorical
hole
in your
heart.
And though that
hole
made you
broken,
something would come along
to fill that
hole.
All things broken
could be made new again.
I know now,
that is not true.
A
hole
in your
heart,
cannot be filled.
When you lose a piece
of yourself,
that piece is gone.
Forever.
And no amount of love,
or support,
can restore you
to shiny, new condition.
But
that is not to say
that the broken
cannot be healed.
For though a heart
can never be made
whole
again,
It can be made larger.
You can never replace
the missing pieces,
But you can always
collect more.
And though more surface area
leaves more opportunity for
holes,
It also changes the size
of the existing ones
relative to what's left.
You will never not miss
what you have
lost.
You will never not feel
burdened by your
brokenness.
But it will get easier.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
The sunshine filters in
dancing starlight across your cheeks
crisp white teeth gleam
behind sun-kissed lips
And I smile
because you
are all
mine.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC