I feel you walking in the crowd
I see your face among the clouds
I smell your cologne on my old sweater
I know it was easy for you to forget her

The one who helped you through disaster
Now wears a smile made of plaster
The woman who called the rescue team
Is now the girl who only sees you in a dream

Just promise me you're happy now
And please forgive my furrowed brow
I'm still jealous of how you moved on
And left me in that place to fawn

It is named after what it is
filled with water
looking for a life
just like the rest of us

It is durable
it has a way with air
in terms of breathing
unlike many I have known

It is reborn from fragments
rooting itself and adapting
until new soil becomes familiar
which seems impossible

but if a succulent can do it
why not?

Thank you, dear poets, for your words of wisdom
Thank you for sharing your thoughts
thank you for all of the comments and views
thank you for sharing your plots

thank you for writing your feelings in lyric
thank you for all the epiphanies
thank you for supporting others, always
thank you for sharing your memories

As the rest of us know writing isn't easy
neither is sharing your work
so thanks, again, for letting us read
and giving us all a good smirk

If they do something to hurt you
And they look you in the eye
With tears in the place of a smile
And all they can think to speak
Is “This is the best I can do, right now.”
Then you forgive them.
Because that’s the best thing you can do
For them

People talking to one another without speaking
walking by without stepping forward
ignoring without looking the other way
screaming without moving their mouths

yet here I'm sitting without touching the ground
without being grounded to anything or anyone
and I seem to be the only one breaking the silence
I seem to be the one who moves the feet below me

I'm feeling my  legs stiffening as I step
I'm not breaking the silence as loudly as I once had
I'm touching the ground and it's weighing me down
Yet everyone wants to be a "grounded person"

So I'm leaping off the landing with all I've got
Trying to be suspended as I was before
It's harder now knowing all that I do
But I have to get back to where I was before

I'm afraid, if I don't, I too will be stuck
falling into the same patterns as the others
never moving, never making noise, never knowing
what it means to be grounded
is being without doing

My elbow is throbbing.

My elbow is throbbing because I was getting out of bed, and I bonked my elbow on my headboard.

I bonked my elbow on my headboard because, while I was getting out of bed, I stepped on a pile of clothes I had left at the foot of my bed the night before, stumbled, fallen, bonked, and now my elbow is throbbing.

I left the pile of clothes at the foot of my bed because I was too tired and lazy to fold them and put them away, but my grandmother always told me that if I forgot to put my clothes away at the end of the day there would be bad karma, and now I guess the only thing to say is that I got what I deserved after I had stumbled, fallen, and bonked, and now my elbow is throbbing.

I was too tired and lazy to put my clothes away because I had just gotten out of the shower and I was already carrying a towel, my work clothes, and I was shutting the door with foot, so in a way it makes sense that I dropped my clothes at the foot of my bed because I had to change into comfortable sleeping clothes before I could crawl into bed, but in order to so I had to drop the work clothes that were already in my hands so I could grab my comfortable sleeping clothes before letting my towel slip, and once I did that I realized it made me forget about the work clothes I had recently dropped because I was only thinking about sleeping, which eventually lead to my stumble, fall, bonk, and throbbing elbow.

Watching my life from an outside window
Wondering where I went wrong
Make my way to the chair in the corner
Across an empty room
How many times have I emphasized
The happiness over the strife
It’s the human condition
To be in this position
You’ll lie to yourself
Before you admit you were wrong

"X marks the spot to your treasure,
The treasure that holds your lost pride.
X marks the spot to your pleasure,
go have a look inside."

So I followed the careful instructions,
took one step left then two right,
I was detoured by flower's seductions,
then went back to the map's X growing bright.

At first I felt confusion,
Once I reached this so called prize.
This must be some sort of delusion,
Made by a child to fantasize.

But I looked at the map a bit closer.
The X was no location.
It was the map to my closure,
The way back to my past damnation.

"This is not my pride," I said,
Feeling as though the map lied.
Old pains flooded all through my head.
Because facing my past felt like suicide.

I saw your face, and I whimpered.
How I longed to hear you voice again.
My arms grew numb and limper,
Nostalgia multiplied by ten.

But then I stepped back and took in a breath.
I thought of the troubles that had passed.
Once I'd thought I'd love you until death,
Yet I knew that wouldn't last.

Because while you were once my love,
you were also my strife.
"I fly alone now, turtle dove,
I'll live a fruitful life."

I examined the map and I pondered.
these words were no mistake.
In fact they've made my memories fonder,
Shaped a jagged edge into a clean break.

I do not miss you any longer,
My heart no longer cold.
So if you're ever missing me, just look yonder,
To the map that helped me be bold.

Last Christmas an ornament fell off the tree
The glass orb slipped from the highest bow
transparent shards replaced its pretty ivory
to this day I'm still confused as to how

I still remember when it was new and clean
It brought a great warmth to our collection
I think about all the Christmases it had seen
How many had seen its delicate complexion

it was given to my parents on their wedding day
and they hung it together, every year
but last year it fell and broke on Christmas day
and the only shimmers are found from tears

The lights went out
I let out a shout
I'm a bit scared
and unprepared
But I'm completely fine
It's just the power line  
So I talk to you
but it seems you're through
you're not enjoying our little conversations
which leaves me to ponder while looking at constellations
As if I'm not worth a call
As if I'm not there at all
So I sit in the dark with no electricity
Waiting on life to grant me some simplicity
Why can't my mind be serene, like yours?
Being the first to talk is always a chore

Grind all the little things between your teeth
And wash it down with something sweet

Let it digest and let it resonate in your gut
Before you make a strike against yourself