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 Oct 2018 Cheryl
Kyle Dal Santo
“To be 21 and wild again
To be hopeful, and feral
And bright and wild eyed again…
To feel the passion of youth, the spring of energy,
To feel untouchable, to feel in front of the line
With the whole world in front of you again
Oh, to be 21 and alive again, to be free again…”
Except, we weren’t
Remember those days, and the games we’d play?
Life was so simple, we felt so brave
How quickly it passed us by, how cute when we tried to hold on tight
Then you proposed the crime of the ages
“Let’s just not grow up?”
Her bold rebellious attitude was just the tip of the iceberg that sunk me
Her curly brown hair made her look much younger, like me
It bounced around her face, made her look innocent
She had a button nose, with a dimple on either side
Her blue eyes radiant with life
Her girlish charm held back a monster worse than mine
She’s pretty ****** up, and there’s a lot of reasons why
Of course I saw that as a bonus, to find someone as dangerous as me
The fact that you liked my music steadily turned me on
But it quickly got dangerous
Soon I was in over my head
Oh you evil taunting cupid and your poisonous arrows…
If a full moon and an Indian Summer had a baby,
They would name it YOU
And I fell hard, head first and almost broke my arms
Just a drop of happiness, and I’d fight the world for you
We wanted it, not for them, but for us, for the rest of our lives
Every time we got back together, we thought it was forever, so we never asked why
We were both lonely, I took refuge inside of you
We were both very broken
It wasn’t that we mended each other,
It was more like our broken pieces fit really well together
But we never got better, we loved the broken versions too much
We cherished our tragedies, relished in our dramedies
I just wasn’t ready to handle such a fight
You just weren’t mature enough to understand the message

She’s already a distant memory, already too far gone
Only trophies and bruises remain
Her lipstick still stains the glass
I keep it as a trophy in the back of the cupboard
Less as a memory, more like a hunting trophy
Lesson learned, now I know better
I write that line to make you think I’m not into you
But really I couldn’t stop thinking about every bit of you
And how I know it’s not fate or misguided
I wanted to run away with you, pleaded with you
“All I know is somewhere beyond those tracks is where you and I live on,
The music is our train ride the hell out of here…”
I’m clear headed now
And the next time you feel the need to call me after 3, don’t
And don’t you call me “honey”, “dear”, or “darling” again
They’ve all been retired and overplayed
They leave me with a sour after break deep inside
Tell me again how this is best for both of us
How you did this for my sake, not just yours
And that I’m better off without you
Now the darkness has become my friend,
And you want me to keep you safe?
Fear not, for I would never let them hurt you
But we will never share the moonlight again
Now, you’re too weak for me, and I got plans to be
I’ve got a world to meet, now it’s you’re turn to watch
You did a bang up job making me feel welcome
Now I’ve got dibs on the good bye
I’ll wear the scars for you, they look better on me any way
We may have outgrown the lyrics, but not the meaning
The songs still haunt me, still mean so much to me
I fear they’ll follow me to my grave
Bury me beneath the tree where we first met,
At least my bones will rest young and happy
Love can really ******* up, you know
Here’s to hoping your arms are open, when I finally fall
Kyle D.
 Oct 2018 Cheryl
maddy lynda
i wasn't sure if it was love
i was so wrong last time
i couldn't trust my heart
it wasn't until
i realised
that she's just as broken as me
and i held her shaky hand
and i kissed her shaky face
then i knew
 Oct 2018 Cheryl
Jay
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over stupid, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
 Oct 2018 Cheryl
Stu Harley
i
grabbed
both of
your
humble hands
to
pull you closer
to
my heart
 Oct 2018 Cheryl
Alexis karpouzos
He says: ''I'm lost. I'm alone. I'm so alone''.
And a Voice whispered:
WHY?
There are dreams you haven't dreamt
and loves you haven't loved
and light you haven't felt
and sunrises yet to dawn
and flowers yet to grow
and there is more to you
the wonders that you carry into your heart
will guide you farther than you can imagine.
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