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Sep 2021 · 919
Rebecca Sep 2021
I hate her.
And her.
And her too.

Any of them.
All of them.

Because they hurt you.
Because they left you.
Because they didn't have any idea
what they had
when they had you.

But mostly because
you felt for them
what you don't for me.
Jul 2021 · 36
Rebecca Jul 2021
you say it's ok for me to stay
but when I awaken
in the middle of the night
and feel your stillness
hear your deep, even breaths
i hold my body paralyzed
hold my lungs steady
for fear of disturbing
this elusive rest
this rare recharge
this calm.

but also in fear you will awaken,
remember I'm here,
and be disappointed.
sorry. it's only me.
Jun 2021 · 385
Rebecca Jun 2021
i've learned well
what it feels like
to be both happy and unhappy
in the very same moment
in the very same breath.

in this transience
in these heartbeats
comfort, joy
and despair
all become one in the same.
i'm never more happy
and more sad all at once
as when I'm near you.
my dear sweet friend,
hug me again. let me feel it all.
Apr 2021 · 769
Rebecca Apr 2021
keeping quiet
seems to be what I'm best at.
while my thoughts are screaming
and my pen is moving furiously to let them escape.
my mouth does not betray my secrets
but my eyes are another story.
if you pay attention,
you may see everything.
the quiet can become the noise
to someone who might take a closer look
Mar 2021 · 680
Rebecca Mar 2021
I’ve settled for the scraps for so long,
snapping up what gets tossed my way
like a feral dog
desperate for sustenance.

So frantic am I to consume
these crumbs of nourishment,
ever-focused on the next bite,
that savoring each taste isn’t possible.

Instead I willfully ignore the lack of real nutrition,
and anxiously await the next throw.
I can only imagine what a full meal from you would taste like.
Mar 2021 · 56
Rebecca Mar 2021
I’ve left the door open for years
Despite the change of seasons
Despite the lack of entry

A few attempts to close it
Have gone with limited success
More often your foot has gotten in the way

Occasionally you’ll disappear long enough
For the latch to click
But the lock has always refused to engage

Still I lean against the wood
Head back
Eyes closed
Long exhale
Maybe I’ve done it this time

Before long though
I swear I can feel you on the other side
Heart beating
Energy penetrating the barrier

And before I know it
It’s open again
Waiting, watching
To see if the threshold will be crossed this time
Feb 2021 · 55
Rebecca Feb 2021
what violent eyes you have
ripping open my half-healed wounds
every time you look at me

bruised heart and tender scars
aching again
pulsing as though the fracture was new

every time
if only i could avert my gaze.
Feb 2021 · 84
Rebecca Feb 2021
I heard a phrase in a song today
“…tragedies of chemistry…”
and it struck me
I don’t believe there’s anything
that better describes you and I.
Exciting interactions
but disappointing results,
hopeful experiments gone wrong.
Failed combination
of two elements
that I had thought sure
could create something beautiful.
A tragedy of chemistry.
Science never was my strong suit.
Feb 2021 · 52
Rebecca Feb 2021
Floating in and out,
this disembodied spirit appears and disappears
without rhyme or reason.
You show me just enough to know you exist,
but I can't ever truly experience you,
can't understand or explain you,
and certainly...can't keep you.
How long will you stay this time?
Why do you leave?
And why do you return?
These fleeting moments,
this uncertainty.
I try once again
to make contact,
reach my hand out
wanting to touch the mist, feel the energy
confirm authenticity
attempt to make the illusion real;
to make sense of the haunt.
But as quickly as you arrived,
as quickly as I even make eye contact,
you're gone again.
My attempts to grasp always go unconnected.

I never know when,
but you always reappear.
And I don't know why.
Feb 2021 · 216
Rebecca Feb 2021
you set fire to my soul
in both the most exhilarating
and infuriating of ways

and all I can do
is fan the flames
and continue to burn.
loving you will most certainly be the eventual death of my sanity.
Jan 2021 · 42
Rebecca Jan 2021
drifting in and out like the tide
inevitably your ocean always returns
kisses my toes, flows over my skin
cold and exhilarating
i remember this feeling
sparkles in my brain, electricity
chills up my spine
tingles through my fingertips
apprehension melts into intrigue
cold begins to feel warm
and I’m captivated once again

waves swell and crash into me
stepping forward to meet the surge
wanting to be enveloped, consumed
accepted by the depths
but then
another familiar sensation
the pull of the current retreating
as quickly as it came
and never with explanation

i always attempt to fight it
to hold on somehow
bargain for more time
but the effort remains futile
and I release my desperate grip
relinquish and surrender
watch you fade away
accept the cyclic fate
and wait
for the indefinite and unexplainable
but always eventual
perhaps someday I'll leave the shore
Dec 2020 · 40
Rebecca Dec 2020
their frustration comes from pressing the gas and spinning, spinning their
wheels, not gaining any traction or momentum.
my frustration comes from when I gain motivation to press that pedal down,
my wheels just don't seem to spin much anymore.
deep in the muddy rut I've dug myself into,
deeper and deeper over the years.
feels like no chance for propulsion now,
no way to drive myself out on my own.
less frustration as time goes on,
more like acceptance creeping in.
foot off the pedal, what's the point in wasting the fuel.
sit still, listen to the music, feel the feelings,
and stay put.
wait for a tow truck,
or for a reason to get out and walk.
Aug 2020 · 78
Getaway Driver
Rebecca Aug 2020
Weaving in and out of traffic
Reckless with your own life
Reckless with others'
No blinker, no warning
Mash the pedal
Crank the wheel
You hold steady and drive beside me
But only for a moment
Before passing me by
And moving into another lane
Slowing down is not an option for you
As though there are no brakes
I tried to keep up
Unable, unwilling to continue the chase
I'm left behind
To watch your tail-lights fade away
Aug 2020 · 234
Rebecca Aug 2020
Water always finds a way in.
The rain comes down,
the snow melts,
and the water finds the path
of least resistance.

Seeps into the cracks,
creeps under the shingles,
winds its way
through the areas left vulnerable
from years of slow erosion,
weakened integrity,
neglect of upkeep.
It begins to leak inside,
to create havoc,
to damage what should be kept
safe and dry.

Drops become trickles,
trickles become streams,
streams become rivers,
pools begin to form,
until the weight of itself forces advancement.
Pushing to find another route,
another way in.

Water persists.
Water permeates.

Water, like feelings of inadequacy,
always finds a way inside.
Aug 2020 · 323
Rebecca Aug 2020
You were broken when I met you.
I didn't realize the extent.
When I pulled back from our embrace,
I was covered in blood...both yours and mine.
Yours from previous violence,
and mine from your jagged edges.
You could provide no treatment,
no care or sutures for either of our wounds,
and I was unable to stop the bleeding,
untrained in that kind of repair.
I bled for a long time.
Still bleeding, if I'm honest.
I've kept it undercover,
masked with bandages and gauze.
I've applied pressure, but it remains.
The blood still trickles. The pain persists.
I don't know if your injuries have healed,
as our damages carried us apart.
Too weak to reach out, I can only wonder.
Can only ask myself the questions,
lament the answers I've realized are true,
and carry on with the regret.
These wounds are overdue to be closed.
I think it's time I learned to sew.
To finally stop the bleeding.
Mar 2020 · 80
Rebecca Mar 2020
The same canvas
The same colors
The same landscape
every day.

Adept at the process
Fairly skilled in execution
There was joy once
But with repetition and no inspiration
the same outcome is achieved,
and the end result isn't what it used to be.

The canvas is showing signs of wear now
A roughness here, a crinkle there
Marks from a life of continued use,
from continued expression.
More paint to mask the imperfections
Some days it conceals,
but others it only highlights,
intensifies the flaws.

The same portrait,
over and over again.
Just something to present,
day in and day out.
With no real pride in the work or product,
the joy has waned.
A reflection of what's behind the scene.

Soft strokes, muted shades.
Every color twice-over to choose from,
but the same three or four used.
Just a small handful of the wealth that surrounds
Tucked away in boxes
Collecting dust
But kept, perhaps for someday
When the muse might awaken
From her long sleep.

To revive me.
Dec 2019 · 101
Rebecca Dec 2019
I'll never know why
Why it's not me that you want
Why I'm not enough
Why I'm not worth taking the chance

Why it's not that it's someone else...
it's just not me.

I'll never know why
Why you exist only in the periphery of my life
Why you will not step inside
Why you drift out but never truly leave

Why the way you 'love' me isn't real...
isn't how I wish you would.

I'll never know why
Why I still care so much
Why it consumes me
Why I can't let go

Why my heart still hopes for you,
despite the pain.

I'll never know.
Nov 2019 · 159
Rebecca Nov 2019
hidden under the ash
but still retaining warmth

every once in awhile
you come around
and stoke the remains of the fire
allowing oxygen in
providing fuel
and the coals begin to breathe again

the orange glow becomes brighter
gaining strength
illuminating some of the dark

i'm conscious enough
to recognize the familiar surge
and not become consumed
but seemingly powerless
to ever extinguish it

what will it take
for the glow to fade
for the embers to cool
for the fire to go out
Nov 2019 · 119
Rebecca Nov 2019
Will think that you
Are worth the trouble.
Nov 2019 · 121
Rebecca Nov 2019
Consistently inconsistent
Reliably unreliable
Amiably aloof
Unmistakably ambiguous
Predictably erratic
Revealingly vague
Openly shut tight

Distinctly indistinct
Lucidly incoherent
Affectionately cold.
Unremittingly intermittent
Accessibly inaccessible
Penetratingly impenetrable

Relentingly relentless.

Some things in life you can always count on to remain the same.
In that regard, you'll always be there for me. Unfailingly.
Oct 2019 · 203
Rebecca Oct 2019
Struggling under your net
Captured but not kept
You will not take me in and keep me
But release is not imminent either
Fascinated by my colors, the way I move
Attracted to my unique song
Amused and entertained
But not committed to my upkeep
Play with me when you need a lift
Draw me in and stroke my pretty feathers
Mesmerize me with another smile
Eyes shining, looking into mine
Feed my weakness for affection, connection
And then return to your life
And leave me here
Fighting, but losing strength
Yearning for actual love

Take me in and keep me
Or let me go

It would feel like release either way.
Oct 2019 · 849
The cycle
Rebecca Oct 2019
Inconsistency and ambivalence.
Constant push and pull.
You're here. Now you're not.
"I love you". We haven't spoken in months.
Indifference and apathy.
Mixed messages.
I'm who you want when you don't want to be alone.
Company. Just company.

Interest. Disappearance. Repeat.
Oct 2019 · 100
These walls
Rebecca Oct 2019
There it is
The knocking on the door again
Identify yourself
Before I can let you in
Friend? Foe? Fling? Forever?
What are your intentions
Strengthening the guard
Entry reserved
You need to identify yourself
Before access will be granted
Inside these walls
Aug 2019 · 543
On the nightstand
Rebecca Aug 2019
Pick me up. Read me.
Fan my pages. Break my spine.
Make notes. Place bookmarks.
Try to learn and understand what may not make sense to you.
Skip ahead and then go back.
Take me in.
Dog-ear the important pages.
Feel the weight of the whole volume.
Do you have questions?
What are your favorite parts?
What do you wish to rewrite?
Or do you only wish to add?
Pick me up. Read me.
Aug 2019 · 112
In too deep
Rebecca Aug 2019
I let myself wade in too deep,
got pulled in by the tumultuous current.
But the tide has never come back in.
There's no sanctuary out here. I need to get out now.
To save myself.
Aug 2019 · 94
Rebecca Aug 2019
Reaching up through the puddle,
but still sinking.
I'm here. You see? See my hand?
I'm here. Someone look.
Reaching up through the puddle,
but still sinking.
Waiting for the grasp of a steady hand to help pull me free.
The rain keeps falling.
But I'm still here, though. See?
Aug 2019 · 381
Looking up
Rebecca Aug 2019
The rain is beautiful.
I wish I could watch it from the window.
Instead of looking up at it from the pavement.
Aug 2019 · 107
Everything's fine
Rebecca Aug 2019
Hurt, angry, confused, lost, struggling
Put the mask on so they can't see and judge
"What do you have to be upset about?"
What I perceive as stressors don't matter to you
Under pressure
Feeling low
Weak under the weight
Swinging my arms, flailing, trying to grasp
But not making solid contact
No idea what to do
Except keep wearing the mask
Everything's fine.
Sep 2018 · 113
Rebecca Sep 2018
I opened up my heart for you.
Wanted to show you. Wanted to share.
You glanced, but you never came inside.
I wanted to take a look inside yours.
But you didn't open it for me.
Unwanted, I closed mine up again.
Sep 2018 · 181
The fall
Rebecca Sep 2018
Filled with nerves and fear
My crew behind me for support and a gentle push
I step out through the curtain and into the blinding light
Cheerful music, bright colors, and a boisterous crowd


I step toward the ring and look up
A warm smile with an outstretched hand
Beckoning toward the sky

I remove my cape.

I reach for the first rung on the shiny metal ladder in front of me
Each step becomes easier
Adrenaline and excitement driving me higher
Propelling me forward

I reach the platform and marvel at the view
New fluttering in my stomach gives me pause
But looking out across the open air
Is the friendliest face I’ve seen in quite some time
I’m mesmerized
Renewed and energized

Are you ready?

Reaching out for the bar in front of me
I tighten my grip, close my eyes, take a deep breath

The rush of air on my face is amazing
Feeling almost weightless
I open my eyes to see that friendly face again
Something in those eyes is both exhilarating and calming at once
I sense strength and safety immediately
My mind and body both relax
Swinging back and forth
My eyes locked on those friendly eyes
Lost in those eyes
In the depth of those eyes

Feeling more free than I’ve felt in years
A new set of arms outstretched
Feeling ready for another rush
Another high
Ready to release into these arms
And feel safe again

Another deep breath
And I let go
I reach out

Suddenly a shift
I feel gravity
The outstretched arms are moving away
Swinging away

I’m falling.

Looking up, wind rushing past my body
Watching my intended target shrink away
Losing sight of the friendly face
Losing sight of those eyes

Frightened and confused
Faster I fall
Until suddenly a jolt
Rope against my skin
I’m bouncing back upwards
And back I fall again

I’ve hit the net.

Body sore from the impact
Mind sore from the fall

I lie here
Bouncing slowly
Up and down
Body motionless
Eyes open
Wondering what happened
How I got here

Where is my cape?

— The End —