Here I am
another Saturday
I've woken up
with a smokers cough
heaving
at my lungs
like a slow roasting
fire
I've been
smoking
more cigars
lately

Usually seven
would last me
about a week.
Now that many can
only hold it down for
three days
maybe four

I drag myself out of bed
fumble around searching
for my glasses and of course
the phone
I manage to
slug myself to
the bathroom
pop an
Adderall
make my way
out to the porch
I light up a smoke
the cold wind
strikes my
exposed body parts
giving me the chills
**** Texas weather
it's either too hot
or too cold
kind of like me

Still

it doesn't stop
my routine of
having a few hits
my will power
is a slave
to the
rituals.

As I sit there
mean mugging
the cloudy but
still bright sky
I feel the Adderall
kick in
I'm ready to
tackle
the list of chores


With a toothbrush
and some foam cleaner
I scrub
at the bathroom sink
each little blob of
tooth paste spit
gets focused on
and scrutinized
just as I do
with my insecurities

Tossing a foaming
cleanser bomb
in the toilet
it volcanoes up to the brim
kinda like my emotions
have been
these past
few weeks

I scrub at that for a while
living with two boys
can cause **** to go
and get
in
to
everything

I hand wash all of
my black stockings
in the tub
rinse and
wring them out
and hang them
one by one
on the shower pole

There
as they drip
getting ready
to be worn
through the
work week
I sit on the
edge of the tub
and write this poem
despite all the ****

it was still a good Saturday morning

H as in, How could you do this to me?!
H happens when you least expect it!
H for, How happy are you now?
H to, Hello all my unanswered text and calls!
H is to, Hell with promises
H is the first letter in the word Helpless
H isn't the letter f for **** all of this.
H for you're always at a party and never Home.
H for my name is Hope
because that's what I was full of
before I met you.

H is what does she have that I don't have?!
H for , our Holidays were fixing to be together
H for I feel like a stupid ***
H is for, Hoes have feelings too!
H is for, to Hell the fact your name begins
with an N and not giving a **** what
this is all doing to me.

H for humiliating your so called "nagging wife"
who wanted good morning texts,
"What are you doing?" responses
and letting me know when your making
plans without me.
I only wanted to feel a
part of your everyday life
because you're so far away!
Yeah
but to hell with that too right?
As long as you get out
of the cage that is me.
Yes, to hell to the 2 years of love
because **** taking accountability
             This final H is for
              Hope this poem finds you
               because I haven't been able to...

Carry me in the wind
from the funeral of my heart
a cathedral of loneliness dies
the moment
you spoke my name.

This heart aches every moment
your hands carve into my soul.
Reaching through my soil
up rooting the dirt
exposing the corpse that is me.
Love's violet hues consumed with you
I'd die again
        and again
                  to be buried in your love

An unmarked grave
drowns in shades.
Whiskey as dark as your gaze
cooled with whispers of water
to smooth the taste of your fire
an ember lost in snow-
housed within cemeteries gates.

Usher me in a casket
classic and romantic
silk pressed with satin pearl.
Dye these roses to match the
tattoo vines that cage your arms.
keep me in your embrace
held closer than death.
use my ribs
   fragile and thin
       to break into the woman
          that lies
            helplessly with you.
Casketed in me, casketed in you.

touch me gently
kiss me slowly
      escape in us
        chisel a path that
            death herself can't break free of
               let this moment outlive the grave.

your loose tobacco is
   still on my bed side dresser.
on a brown rectangle tray
  dried out leaves
    shriveled from lack of moisture
     along side a vase of dead roses.
       even the moon dims it's gaze
       it's silver light thinner without you.
         everything mourns your departure

   this house feels less than in your absence.
    i miss you, so i wear your clothes  
  no longer does lace grace these hips
    nor silk lay on this flesh
      for your palms are far
     from the peach orchard
    heavy showers
  cast dew on hand held mangos.
    it's been days
  since I've coated my pucker
   with red cherries
     for your lip stain is far from me.

       when the moon brings the cold
      the stars spill
      their ***** tonic waters.
     celestial bodies drink and weep
   pouring gallons of salted rose on
  the open wounds in the marsh.
    
         Lilies brush the scent
       of apple crisp,
       that refreshed the skin
        between my breast
        where you laid
         and I cradled your crown
         sweet scents of beautiful
            feathered doves
      
         all the night long
        I seek you in my bed
        where your ghost
       offers a bouquet of ripe
    grapes—their sweetness
    crushed by the weight of waiting  
    reminding me I've pressed your wine
      I tango with the shadow of amor
       keeping this heart beating
        tormented but clinging
          sugar coated covenant promise
             that I'll hide under my tongue
              until the day
               you're back home again.

I told him that I needed some space.
That I think if we had it
we'd be on better terms.

So he gave it to me..
the space between his shoulder
and elbow.
Some space on his chest
where I could rest my
oh
so
tired
head.

There
right there
where his heart beats
the fear right out of my skin.
There is where I slept,
longer than I normally
would have.
My manic mind
usually puts a
choke hold on sleep
much later in the night.
He slept too, even
though he hadn't been
awake for too long.
'Go ahead and rest my love '
is what he spoke to me.

Sometimes all we need is a little space.

There's a fire
in my chest.
It's burning in
water.
The steam
fogs my glasses.
As being on the verge
of breaking down
draws ever so closer.

Closer than a lover
closer than the
decaying yellow
from the vines of
a dead fern.
So much closer than
the smoke-stained paint
which coats the walls of my home
an off-white uselessness.

Carrying an anchor
so far
from the sea,
it bears a toll on me.
Half dead
hunched over
waiting for
a candle's light to
reach my
ever-growing darkness.

My body is half buried
in the dying Texas blue grass.
The worms
maggots
and circling birds
hungry to tear away
at the flesh of a dead poet.

There's nothing like
waking up at dawn.
The plants and the trees
are bare.
Each blade of grass
is either brown or green.
The quiet demands silence.
Even the cats
that follow
me outside
lower their heads
to show some respect
to the quiet.

I collapse, surrendering
to the rocking chair
My eyes still heavy
from only having a few hours of sleep.
The pills haven't worn off yet.

A half-smoked cigar is in my hand.
I take it to my lips
flick the Bic
and give it a long kiss.
Inhaling enough smoke
to fill my lungs.
Leaning back in the chair
I release a stream
of smoke.
Sitting there watching
nothing happen.
It feels good.

Until my mind starts up again.
Like a record on repeat.
The static
and flashes of
all the episodes
with every word
drowning my brain
with loads of cheap whiskey.
I question myself,
Will I be able to make it today?
Can I outrun
this hurricane
at least for
another day?

It's awkward being around so
much stillness and having a
tornado inside.
From a perspective of
someone people watching
I'd just look like a normal lady
sitting outside enjoying
their morning cigar.
They're partially right,

It was a **** good cigar.