In the cold, dark
        of January,
         I remembered
              you
        the most.
  As the chill
      snapped bones
              like branches,
     as the afternoons
   bathed themselves
in gray,
     as the birds
and the backs
      shook,
so did my lips
   around your name.
I'm so happy
     January is almost
over now.

Where have you gone, little child
—my little child
You told me all your secrets
but never told me your plans
and was it nothing to you?
—all those golden weeds we plucked
and laughs that bloomed
I should’ve built you a castle out of it all—

I should’ve covered the windows with dry leaves
and letters
I know well of the temptation, but
what was ever so promising in that hazy night?
My little bird,
didn’t I teach you how to fly
didn’t I adorn your feathers with petals
—and poems
I wrote tales for your wings and
Will this be your repay?

What of the endless hills we sailed over
All the gleaming waters we kissed
I should’ve built you a kingdom out of it all—
We could’ve been queens of a starry land yet
here we are

I sit with the weeds, they chew away our lilies
you have long run away
with the dark
and the world is dry—
the world is dry without you.

Head smacked
With an abrupt thwack.
Nose aggressively shoved in the corner;
Followed by the crazed rant
Of an old school rhymer;
Unaware their current act....chant....
in the Future be court docket tabled....
Labled...
And designated a "child abuse" crime:
Breaking news at prime time

"How dare you speak to me?
Didn't your mother...
Or father teach you proper manners?
Look here, look listen! Directly into my eyes see!
So... I may know you understand clearly.
Little girls (and boys) are to be 'seen and not heard.'
You disrespectful ****."

" thwackity thwack"
A hard double hit reverberates  
(Emotionally terminates)
As a forceful chalked blue
Cue
Smacks...
Cracks...
The backside of the child's red
Pigtailed Head
(Thrusting it forward in an eight ball call shot
Designated for the left corner wall slot).

Nose banking the wall with a hard ******.
Dripping blood
(In full crimson flood),
Invading her mouth with copper waste
(Mixed in with the salty taste
Of tears falling in silent haste).
Destined to dry with a tinge of rust
and crust.

Followed by a loss of parental guidance trust.

Daring not a single peep--
In weep.
The child covers her bloodied mouth
(With trembling hands)--
Muffling emotional cries at an alarming rate--
(In a fearful state),
Dreading a forced follow foul stroke:
That a single sound could provoke.

Contemplating her prelection:
In extreme sudation.

She wondered why her mother....
Father..
Encouraged her ranting chatter
And told her that all questions matter?

Didn't they know that bubbly banter...
Chatter...
Would cause her
Disciplinary stature
(Possible nose fracture)
And a guaranteed position in the corner
(Under the care of an old timing
Rhyming....
Bitter....
Head splitting
Sitter)?
Marie Moldovan ©️ 2021

To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
apart.

your hands grab my wrist
maybe youre falling
its a crowded train
we can all barely breathe
everyone is touching everyone
backs leaning on backs
its normal
its fine
but something about your hold is different
it lingers
hands on my hips
pushing yourself onto me
not once
not an accident
again and again
up and down
up and down
my heart races
i cant move
i try to get off the train
you hold me back
i cant breathe
i cant move
maybe at the next station
you continue
we arrive at the next station
i wait until the last possible minute
i run out
i run out of your grasp
i dont look back
i should have looked back
i cant breathe
is it my fault?
am i a magnet?
to the men who dont know me
but who choose to know my body.

I watch you everyday,
go through the same routine.
I am a puppet master,
pulling on your strings,
watching you move in the same way everyday,
as if you’re a robot,
programmed to experience life, but not to live it

press X to wake up,
X to take medications,
X to skip breakfast.
I play this game everyday,
and as much as i want to choose dance in the rain or go see friends.
i cant bring myself to do it.

you deserve this life,
this life of solitude,
this life of mundane tasks and emotional pain,
you deserve to cry when you look in the mirror
you deserve to be messed with,
you ******* deserve it, and you know it.
I know it.

but life is hard,
when you’re the puppet.

it takes a tiny moment
an ephemeral blink
for such a bizarre comet
change time with novel ink.

it takes a sparkling feeling
a minor flash of chance
for such a little healing
turn life into a dance.

Some people die every second
A day.
Others
still live  even after their death.
Their life has no end.
I feel out of breath.