You were the only thing in the Universe shining brighter than any star above us in the sky; the night I realized I loved you.

Silence.
Emptiness.
Often an unusual thing here, that of silence.
Where as its welcoming, it's also consuming.
Your face, like a neon advertisement on a billboard, flashing messages.
Adornment.
Chastised between the whipping willow tree.
Then and now, through all of time and all of space.
In a very seldom looked upon way, we are all time travelers.
Destined forth between black holes and brilliant supernovas.
Sprinkled dose of fairie dust upon the imagination of a child.
Shame as we grow older we lose sight of that which imagination thrives.
A collective innocence of a generation.
A first kiss, a scraped knee.
How you felt one summer night long ago, while a storm rolled in and your favorite person in the whole universe pulled you close and kissed you as the sky broke.
Unleashing a powerful rainstorm, but you stood there.
Braced against the elements within love.
Maybe the answer to life isn't who your forever love will be, but how many little moments can you remember that are entirely worth remembering?

There is something so beautiful about a rain shower.
Water falling from the sky , light at first then turning heavy.
I never quite understood why people were so concerned about covering up from the water.
Feeling the rain fall on your skin is just part of the magic.
Fresh and wonderful.
Never seeming to last quite long enough to satisfy the wonder.
Rain is the strongest point of relaxation for me.
A powerful force released by nature in attempts to wash away all sorrows and anxieties.
The cool water on your skin reminding you that you're alive and breathing.
Everything is going to be okay.

She stands for solidity
A force to be reckoned with
Her name comprised of two syllables
Ebbing and flowing effortlessly like ships on a calm sea
Unmistakable beauty radiates
While people are drawn to her presence like a moth to a flame
This girl has a spark which is derived from her selfless soul
The way her eyes smile when she speaks
A true taste of simplicity.
Radiance, compassion
A true friend to have
Kelsey, my cousin
The girl who came from the sea.

Forget your appearance
Erase your name.
Relish in the anonymity
The freedom of new beginnings.
Who was I?
More importantly, who have I become?  -----
That can only be told by the future.
Matters not does the past
Be who you are without the confines of pressure.
For you are brilliant
In your own peculiar way.

- Natasha Whitley

The itch of a sunburn on my skin, being home is slightly bittersweet.
A reminder that problems which trouble your mind follow you everywhere.
I'm constantly caught up in the everyday battle of deciphering what's really there and what isn't
In the sense of real ailments and anxiety.
A trouble of the mind and body, plaguing me
Making me feel like some reject, unable to live a normal life.

But it started because of something I did to myself. Underlying feelings my entire life let loose by some rampant act of idiocy. (All to impress a dumb boy. )
Irrevocable and for years now it's been an ongoing struggle.
Trying to feel normal, when I can barely remember what normal is.
Constantly feeling like I have to explain every ******* symptom to someone so I don't feel like I'm dying.
It's exhausting.
It doesn't happen every day and I thank whoever for that, because if it was....
I don't know what I would do.

Sick and tired of feeling sick and tired with all these unexplained questions. Always searching for an answer. Hypochondriac tendencies, introverted so deeply without a reason.
And the entire time I've just wanted to feel like I'm not coming undone at my seams.
That I have more of a ******* purpose than over analyzing every single feeling I have in my body on a day-to-day basis. Somehow in all of the disarray, I found someone who loves me, my gigantic flaws and all, and despite all the trouble I have, sometimes I feel like if I don't keep it to myself that he's going to leave me.
Because who wants to be with someone who doesn't work at all?

A child of a mother who was severely schizophrenic. A father who was gone for too **** long, but not by his own fault.
Resentment towards a woman who despite her problems did everything in her power to keep her two children alive, when she probably wasn't feeling so alive inside. Raised by myself, with her guidance and having to come to terms with the fact that you spent your entire young-life knowing you didn't have a dad. To having him save you in the midst of a war you didn't want to have, and that was a miracle. Realizing all you knew in your life to that point was a struggle and not the way things were supposed to be. You were freed.
Spending the next few years trying to live up to my fathers seemingly unrealistic expectations, never quite understanding that was all that he was given. Trying to make the most of what he felt was slipping through his hands, and *******. To know then what I know now.
I wasted so much time just wanting to feel loved, because I was lacking what vital fundamentals I didn't have. Thinking that's what made life worthwhile.
Years passed, and I always told myself, diminishing my life struggles because someone has had it worse. But my struggles were real, and they mattered.

Never allowing myself to say "yes, you've been through hell" and it's ****** that I have to pay for it now. A few wrong choices can ******* up real nicely. How long do I keep resenting myself instead of accepting and moving on? My life has been filled with good intentions and wrong choices. Looking back at all the things that I've seen and all the people who have come and gone, I'm absolutely joyed I have who I have now.  The few who stuck around.

The hardest part of it all is telling yourself that you're okay, that you're going to be okay. Watching the city come alive on the balcony cause you're afraid to fall back asleep. Anxiety comes with a price. You lose pieces of your sanity.

Ultimately in life's big write your own song- you learn a few things. Feeling the cold air making my hair stand on end, causing a shiver reminding me that I am alive. Without my struggles and problems I've experienced there is no way I could've shaped into the individual I am. Something to say thanks to.

A deep breath, a longer than usual exhale.  Acknowledge these feelings for what they are. I hope they won't be here forever.


-spoken word.

Take the plunge with me
Answer to the irrevocable calling that is this moment
Maybe in comparison the fear you might have if you were to jump off a cliff bungee jumping.
For this we won't have harnesses
Only flesh embodied, skin caressed with the warmth of the blankets and each other.
Swim with me in this forbidden pool
The night is young and the taste of white wine heavy on your tongue

Over the many years which have passed, my mind constantly brings me back to one place
Where the strong waves crash against the heavy rocks
So powerful, whitecaps form on the waters surface
Could easily knock a grown man off his feet.
But I am secure on shore, dry and content
Blindly in love
For you are beside me where I've always envisioned you
Hand firmly wrapped, untwined with my fingers
You told me I have no reason to fear.

We sit here for a long time, in silence
Connected by our hands, our bodies lost in an unspoken moment with Mother Nature
The wind confirms it's affair with the trees, deep gusts of air blow through rustling up a wonderful sound
I become cold, involuntarily shiver.
Your arm wraps around me, and I shiver again
Just not because of the wind this time
Drawing me closer, I am with you
The birds, the lake
This is all for us
I never want to leave
Transfixed in a dimension furthest from our own

My eyes grow heavy, and I am afraid if we leave here now that things might change
I'm always weary and afraid of the unknown
You pull me to my feet and kiss me so strongly
Breaking apart you say the first spoken words in hours
"I don't know where you came from, but I am so glad you're mine".
The wind carried those words away from us
High above, under the winds of sea birds.
Across the lake, whispering
Across time.

As I sit here, in my
Cobweb covered rocking chair, miles and miles from that spot
I could've sworn I heard your voice carried with that last gust of wind
As it blew through my hair
"I don't know where you came from, but I am so glad you're mine"
Sleep overcame me,
                             And I dreamed.

My mind is an ocean
It's harsh waves drowning the things I cannot say for fear of harsh judgements
Toying with the things I want to
Like a small boat on the open water
The darkening skies harboring no nice weather
For your boat is out too far to return safely
You are alone tonight
With your bottle you plan on drinking dry
Your solitude can be your savior but it can also be your demise
And all that's left is me sitting here in silence, wondering why.

Communication

My renunciation
Susceptibility, damage
Feedback induced through operation,
Controlling
Is that how you present gratitude?
I exemplify what’s been demonstrated to me.
Reverence hands over convictions,
Trust.
Reciprocating through leaving.
I propel,
Direct forward,
Jurisdiction.
The flight into atmospheric impression,
Infatuation.
Provoking anxious attachment styles,
Complex childhood trauma.
Lack of interaction.
I purge my wrongdoings,
Request resolve.
I reprise intention for consistent trust,
Enchantment.
You aren’t alone anymore.
Genuine appreciation requires discipline.
Truthful emotion holds no possession.
Flicker of what authentic sentiment,
Entailing.
Including a merge
Unaccounted for in detachment.
©rhetoricalcuriosity

Clouds and colors painted across the sky,
Evening is upon us in all of it's wondrous glory.
The golden hour; an artist's canvas.
Sunlight glows over the treetops,
Saying goodnight to the daytime; welcoming dusk.
A sliver of the moon; peaking out making it's presence known.
For in a few short hours the sky will harbor a new scene,
One where the moon becomes dominant over all.
Deep blue darkness with perfectly plotted stars burning millions of miles away.
I wonder to myself of all the star crossed lovers,
Who have looked upon the same night sky.
I feel lucky to have you by my side in this moment of beauty,
For true love shall never die.

Brown eyes which mirror mine
Could you sing to pass the time?

My entire adult life spent through selfies adorned with false smiles, vanity portraying the "best version" of myself.
My own body delusions still presented without filter, although masked.
Raw, vulnerable photographs through my weakest moments, tear strings, pink cheeks and red eyes aren't something I've felt comfortable posting.
However posed my photos are, they still aren't altered.
Playing up my own dysmorphic disorder from youth yet grasping my own beauty seen as overly vain.
Early youth Ex boyfriends told me selfies were extremely narcissistic, and made me seem rampant for attention.
But does a girl who has such little following still seek approval of others when they don't like photos?
I'm not sure.
My instagram feed is dull.
It's not uniform or beautifully choreographed.
I often hide photos, as I too enjoy hiding myself from time to time.
I intended on leaving an imprint of all these useless photos I've taken over the last decade. Physically I no longer share similar traits to younger versions of myself, though mentally I've changed overall time and time again. People have called me iron-clad, the strongest person they know.
But am I?
My body embellished with secrets of a personality I used to be too afraid of showing men until this fall.
How many basic accommodations I've missed out on, how my body soaks up the granules of this love.
My being is a season, wise in my own way and mystic in terms of value.  
Windows beaming with warm midday sunlight, and crispy fall mornings.
Evolving rituals, moonglow and warmth. Certain darkness like still plotted night skies. Teetering vulnerability, and overstuffed closet.
Days less spent pining over lost dysfunction, and moreover trying to figure out who I have become.
Perceived destruction of oneself versus proverbial Phoenix reconditioning.  
Warrior ignite.
This winter's met with welcomed warmth though grazed heartache and sadness.

You tell me you love me
(No one loves me)
You tell me people care
(I am alone)
You say I am beautiful
(I am ugly)
You tell me it gets better
(It won’t)

I never believe you that it gets better
But it always does

Mother is broken
Her heart pumps blood through her veins like everyone else
Lungs breathe air to keep her alive, yet deep down I know she is different.
Her eyes are a brilliant shade of green
I adore her yet she terrifies me.

You walk up to the porch, muddy boots disturbing settled dust
Looking down, you proceed to wipe boots off
I cringe slightly as muck settles into my crevices
You finish your task and step onward toward warmth, leaving your wake behind
***** and dripping wet
“Let me get the door for you”, I say happily  as I brush the dirt off my clothes following you inside.

“I wanted to be happy,”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home.
Disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room.
Intrusive thoughts-
Dismaying salvation of apathologized compliance.

Masking behaviour for acceptance.
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable,
dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding.
Belted and crying,
“Please stop, it hurts.”
Fearful avoidance-
Nothing feels safe.

Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat.
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain.
Complex post traumatic stress disorder.

Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic.
Chronic pain with desolation-
Desperately craving the touch of another human.

Covid times; worsening depression, combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping.
Powerlifting self regulation,
though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you,
they would make effort.

Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance.
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.
©rhetoricalcuriosity

“I wanted to be happy”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room
Intrusive thoughts
Dismaying salvation of pathologized compliance
Masking behaviour for acceptance
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable
Dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding
Belted and crying
Please stop, it hurts
Fearful avoidance
Nothing feels safe
Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain
Complex post traumatic stress disorder
Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic
Chronic pain with desolation
Desperately craving the touch of another human
Covid times; worsening depression combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping
Powerlifting self regulation though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you
They would make effort
Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.

The suddenness of her lips on his left him momentarily stunned as he fought to steady himself once again
Swiftly recovering  his senses, returning her kiss feveroisly.
Tongues intertwined softly, breathing heavy and labored.
A powerful electricity buzzed between them
The energy from the vastly starry night sky radiating down upon them, casting everything within a ravishing glow.
His dimpled, beautiful smile; powerful enough to render any woman incapacitated.
Her eyes shone brightly as the stars above.
Below them, the lake water called out, beconing.
An inviting sonnet, lapping against the rocky coastline with a steady rhythm like their two hearts beating.
Enveloping them completely, becoming lost within each other and falling victim to the impossibly beautiful mid-July night.

Erase your name from my fingertips, never again quench these thirsty lips.
Fright said right an ending was left.
Head against pillowcase she wept of mourning.

I live secret from the divine

I live like some feel in dream when time is forever gentle

Gentle forever is time when I can dream
©rhetoricalcuriosity

His eyes,
Burned into the deep backwoods of my mind,
Calling out to me even more with the passing of time.

Secretly glancing over at you,
Desperate to know if your eyes want mine too.

There is a moment between the cusp of darkness, and the rise of the morning sun
Magic
As the colors of a new day creep forth
The fire crackles as the hot embers burn
Emitting enough heat that I am not cold as I sit here
Soon you return to me
The bench shifts under our weight
You don't say anything for a moment
Allowing the silence take us forward into a new day
We watch the sun slowly creeping
Turning to me, the orange-red of the fire catching the whites of your eyes, bathing them with the soft glow.
I catch you smile and I can't help but laugh
A strange thing us sharing this moment
I am sure you think it's strange too
"Quite beautiful", you say with absolute precision
I tell myself not to read into it
Looking at you, it's hard to not see the attraction
Your features are very warm, your eyes scrunch up like mine when you smile
I think you must know that you're handsome
How could you not?
The sky is a brilliant red now
Glowing off the backdrop of darkness.
The fire seems pointless now, since the sky has burst into flames
Maybe it too looks up in awe and wonder
Welcoming the light of a new day

Your hand finds it's way to rest a top mine,
The instant contact startles me
I feel myself blushing
Your eyes are filled with fire now
A deep burning that I couldn't see before
We sit there silently in the moment
As the morning comes alive.

Unleashed
She is finally freed from her cage
Her flight feathers grew back
Her wingspan impressive like the dawn of a new day
Flighted, and ready
She takes to the sky
An eruption of beauty
Never to be seen again.

You were a poison
An exoskeleton of the lies you built around you
Your sole purpose; hate the world for the wrong done to you even if some of your pain was by your own hand.
A deadly plague infecting and wiping out the surrounding villages
You knew not of pure air
Just layered muck filled with pollutants, black tar and Crystal.
Oh how you loved Crystal
A true serpent with ice cold eyes
Luring in your victim and ******* the corpse dry
An endless circle of distraction, but you could never escape your mind.
Take a look back through history
Paints a clear image
All tyrants are brought down by a lesser Evil.
You too shall fall.

Rising, like a Phoenix out of the ashes.
Burning  the skies strike a match to the tarmac.
Holy water, sprinkle a dose on your sins;
Remember not to let the poison win.

Your eyes were my own private river, bathing in the ring of blue around your iris. Enamored with the greenery protected by your eyelashes.
November to February not long enough to drown beneath them

I am plagued by the ghost of your reassuring caress
Your breath during nighttime a missing comfort
For alone I am surrounded by darkness.
Moments spent cradling cobwebs of each-others limbs
Intricate designs casting from our bodies as we felt like one in the same.
Our allure as a couple outshone the mundanes of just a ****** attraction
My soul felt yours
                                          







         ­                                     but I am alone,
                                                    
     ­                                          with the overbearing grief of love lost.




                                                       ­                                  March 16th, 2020



          Darling,
                                      please find your way back home.

Another week is done and little has been accomplished
It seems lately I only exist to eat, I’ve barely left the house
Sleepless nights filled with scrambled egg thoughts of a time which doesn’t exist any longer, served up on a plate come breakfast time
My new home although filled with animals, holds no resemblance to what we had built together
The home I finally deserved left desiccated come springtime’s-battle with mental health
The cats although great company do not replace the steady hum of your computer fans
The rhythm of your breathing knowing you were somewhere close in proximity
Weekends brought a time when we felt whole
6 am memories releasing silent fountains of tears do not bring us back together
Hours passing can’t erase the 4 months it’s been since you left me
Or the wintertime when everything had been perfectly comfortable
No, our love left me with a void of blankness impossible to just shake away
Entirely unforgiving feelings, grieving for every kind word you ever said
Id be lying if I didn’t miss you.

Underneath the window to the galaxy we sat,
Basking in the warm red glow of the fire that burned brightly before us.
Swarms of Mosquitos nipping at whatever piece of skin they could sink their spouts into.
The wind roared, causing hot flare ups of the firewood sending us swinging backward batting away embers which had taken flight.
Sipping our drinks, smiling too widely, laughing with our friends.
Sharing unforgettable moments and making priceless memories;
All while the sky unfolded it's beauty above,
Holding each of us in our little places in the universe, so completely.
Pondering the vastness of it all.
Sitting under the Milky Way,
Making new friends and growing closer to the ones you've always known.
This is the magic of Hecla;
Hecla is part of us, forever.

We sit around my aunts brown kitchen table
A scene we’ve done a thousand times before where I slinked unnoticed behind my hair until it was turn to recite my yearly accomplishments.
Back into the shadows.
This time is different.
This time my father is dead.
Suicide.
He went missing 24 hours before.
“Your fathers illness took him”
He was diagnosed with a neurological disease months prior.
We never spoke.
No it didn’t, my brain screamed.
Suicide.
I run to the kitchen in panic trying to find clonizapam which I almost never take cause I’m afraid of pills.
“What are you taking, doing drugs won’t numb your pain”.
He’s a cop, of course anxiety meds would be seen as “drug addiction”.
“I’m having a panic attack” I muster, angrily from the displaced shame.
I don’t take the pill out of spite and we don’t say anything on the 30 minute drive to his house.
I’m probably sheet white, I feel anxious.
I feel nothing.
I haven’t cried.
We had a terrible relationship, dad and I.
Terrible.
Suicide.
Hours pass.
Minutes?
I dunno, I’m dissociating into everyone’s grief.
Stop talking to me.
I don’t want to be here.  
So many unanswered questions, ones I still don’t know nearly a year later.
Silence and awkwardness.
I sit at the head of their table and avoid everyone’s eyes except my little brothers.
They’re all staring at me, finally paying attention to me after so long.
I hate it.
I want to disappear, their eyes like pathetic little daggers of sadness.
Why the **** am I here?
Someone mentions my tattoos.
Yeah.
I have tattoos.
Tattooed hands, and a dead father.
I only cry when my brother does.
Telling him it’s a suicide, a face I’ll never forget and my soul left behind at the death of his innocence.
Nothing left to protect.
Our father is dead.
6 days till the year death anniversary.
I don’t cry as much as I had after the veil finally shattered.
I’ve never known depression like that; though I was able to find myself after severe heartache.
A traumatized youth.
C-ptsd.
Pass me the join, I need to sleep.

One month and eleven days
Each daybreak reminding me of star crossed lovers personified
Broken hearts and plumes of choreographed chemistry
Satan’s integrity
Blinking down souls of the ******
My studio album titled: Damaged Goods Handle with care, she’s a little fragile.
Pick up right where we left off
Bookmark that moment for later
Somethings amiss
Return to sender
Circle the drain with your epinephrine
Pop a pill and play make believe
Time is running out
Advanced circuitry
Choke me harder
Oh sweet nicotine
You’re a scoundrel
I’m your lovesick Queen

The raindrops are falling, masking your tears as you walk out into the rainstorm.
Your clothing is soaked through.
His words ringing out over and over again inside your head.

Too much. Too emotional.
You didn’t know how Gaslighting sounded yet.
You contemplate with thoughts he’s unfaithful as you walk directionless into the storm.
You try to ignore that gut feeling.
He buys you stuff and says he loves you.
He doesn’t have *** with you or touch you.

He won’t notice you’ve left and when you return you’ll pretend your wet face is only because the rain.

“I went for a walk”- you think though you know it won’t even escape your lips.
He never noticed anymore when you’re upset, he focuses his energy elsewhere.
Living inside his cellphone, withholding affection like all your boyfriends had.
Once he caressed your face and told you that he thought you were the most beautiful.

How many times did that line escape his lips with his past partners?
He called you beautiful twice in two years.
“I’ve never loved anyone before, not like this”.
How could you trust again after manipulation so suavely damaging?
Being a sudden caregiver to his child was complicating traumatizing.
You began to shut down and he offered no help.

“What do you expect me to do?”
He can’t ring back motherhood- though you’re just his “live in babysitter” you began to preform parental duties consisting of two parents.
Obliterating your role from caregiver to best friend.
Even though you often abandoned her with me while you were preoccupied with more important stuff than her.
What could have been more important than her?
Oh, right.

I washed everything.
I cleaned every mess.
I patented two children.
One thirty five one the same age of a child I placed for adoption-
You took everything from me.
And then you took the only thing that made me feel whole those years I played housewife.
I mourn the loss of the child I was caregiver to- my ex boyfriends daughter.

And even still- after everything horrible you told people about me.
How insane I was.
How I watched you sleep.
How many times did I wash your clothes.
Trim your fingernails.
Massage your feet.
You ******* coward- a happiness thief (wolf) in sheep’s clothing to blend in with the fragility.

A parcel of conviction.
Sleepless nights wondering if you were out dead- though your **** was messaging the inside of someone else’s ******.
And even still.
You lost everything and I did too.
But I ended up stronger than you.

Welcome Back
My dear friend
I've missed you
You've been gone so long
Lost amongst the passage of time
Yet someone you returned
Made your way
Safely back
Back to me

Daylight emanating coils of uncertainty from within myself
Trajectory for unwavering retribution
I am lost among the crevices thy mind creates, etching fabrications with regression
U n w o r t h y
U n l o v e a b l e
F a t


Grievances I whisper from blanketed sheath depression
Thoughtless lies birthed onto soft flesh and bone
I am worth......
                                         less.

Damage inflicted, heartbroken thoughts coveted blissful time spent among your breath.

Unkind to myself during depressive episodes, clockwork fabrications intertwined rationality.
Those become a new truth forging insecurities of panhandle insecurities



You are more than the darkness surrounding you.

Thunder rolls in, booming out of nowhere
Disturbing the otherwise clear blue July sky
Just as suddenly as those clouds rolled in
Overhead the heavens broke
Sending rain plummeting to Earth with fruition
An aero plane flies overhead, loud engine roar trying to compete with the ominous thunder clashes
Wind dancing with the trees
Nothing pauses for the rain
The city doesn't come to a halt
Only me, sitting alone on my front stoop
Inhaling the scent of nature
Feeling the cold against my skin, ruffling up my hair
I was born for days like this
I live to become part of the storm

Curdled cream and three separate drafts of a memory I can't quite pen properly.
Disappointment inbound, pouring the first cup of freshly brewed coffee down the drain.
Had I checked the date this wouldn't have been a waste of $4; but a solemn reminder of analogies leaping from my brain.
Cycle of sleeping all day to lie awake during the nighttime, overthinking. Curtains of feeling bad about inability to wake normally, darkness of the evening encompassed I finally pull myself out of the bed.
Despite this current pattern, last winter undoubtedly worse with feelings of self destruction and loathing.
For currently I do not cry every waking hour, just wish I was different with no apparent response to change.
Cats continue to be stricken with yet another upper respiratory response to declined immune system of an exotic breed.
Lost debit card, jobless flounder.
No appetite or desire to binge eat for the first day of my existence.
Headlight reflections crawl across the ceiling and I'm suddenly five years old again, afraid of almost everything.
Summer evenings when the whipper-well called out haunting symphony of their nighttime songs.
I never quite believed they were birds, moreover monsters and I never heard those calls other than childhood.
My father outside, and I in the grass.
Childhood wonder as he climbed a ladder to retrieve me a piece of the moon.
Wide eyed awe at this miraculous feat, my father could reach the moon.
Unnoticed by young eyes, the moons sphere just out of reach by trillions of lightyears.
A rock plucked off the driveway.
He must've been proud of his farce, my bewilderment and excitement beaming.
I love you.
Twenty five years later, a memory I haven't connected to in decades.
Perhaps the next time I look to the man in the moon, I'll see your face etched softly on the surface.
That radiating glow reminding me things will be alright.
It's been an odd winter, my heart is cooled more than our weather as of late.
Somewhere through the forests of Sandilands Provincial forest a deer crunches across the snow.
Silence, except for its breath, a softness.
Trees encompass, nurture and protect.
You are home.

Kirsten; like any wicked step mother you’d read about in children’s story books.
Her presented facade dissolved quickly with days passing since we arrived to reside in her home.
Ample kindness mixed with my first real impression of what narcissistic personality looked like.
Classically she had no children of her own at the time she was exactly the age I am now as I pen this unpleasant memory.
Oddly enough our body types are nearly identical though she was taller with short curly hair often chemically relaxed and dyed a darkened shade of red.
She was the only example of a plus size woman I’d ever interacted with; with a large chest I wished to resemble  when I grew up.
I was eleven at the time and extremely flat chested though I’d developed rosebuds when I was five being the overweight child.
Kirsten loved us- or she pretended detrimentally.
We bonded over the two plump tabby cats she owned though I detested doing the litter- being guilted into it because she had multiple sclerosis although argumentatively she’d have done the litter herself long before I came along.
Adult excuses though whereas her illness was real she didn’t really do much of anything after we came along.
Normalcy was just that at first- family sit down dinners around this white table with cylindrical chairs specked grey and white cushions.
I’d always be yelled at for crossing my one leg under my rear as I’d sit.
“You’ll break the chair that way, stop it” they said on the regular as I’d never remember.
Truthfully that position was comfortable and the chairs never broke.
One resided in my fathers empty home till a week ago- as strong as back in 2001.
Dad and Kirsten were heavy smokers at that point, chain smoking regularly in the front room of Dudley street though the smell would seep through the crevasse and deposit itself remarkably amongst the house.
She’d buy me identical clothes to her- one pink and white fuzzy sweater in particular then berate me for copying her. After all, a very narcissistic thing to do with me being  ******* eleven.
I loved that woman more than I’d care to admit.
She was my first motherly figure after being removed from the home of my severely mentally ill birth mother- she was still a form of normalcy though our relationship deteriorated unrealistically quick.
Before the family split up; we had a sit down dinner though Kirsten wasn’t present.
Having an MS flare I asked how she was when she trapped past the kitchen table toward the washroom.
Innocently enough, I was not prepared for the extremely violent outburst directed toward me- 12 at the time.
For the life of me I don’t recall the words though something like how much she did for our ungrateful family and I ran off to my bedroom without dinner crying from this unwarranted attack.
Everything changed after that point.
That was one of the only times my father emotionally soothed me; their life deteriorated into nightly fights and our fairytale life traversed into a puff of dust.
Kirsten was a dangerous reoccurrence for years after though the veil of particular wonderment was long forgotten.
I needed a protective female presence though I received a covert narcissistic *******.
C’est la vie.

Manitoban Skies

Clouds are the mountains of the prairies
Towering cumulonimbus masses
Incredible backdrops across an otherwise plain blue sky
Warning call that rainstorms may approach
Vertical reminders of atmospheric instability
Jetted upwards into vast formations stretching miles and miles
Promises of unrelenting lighting and thunder
Cinematic sequences is country folk are lucky to view
Humidity in the summer, ah
What would we do without you?
Rolling clouds are a fair trade for the lack of rolling hills
Clouds are the mountains of the prairies.