hop, hop
two pigeons
exited the terminal
hopping up the stairs
step by step
we watch
from the escalators
as they make their way
to the downtown
without ruffling a feather

My anxiety
Is my religion
I wear my nerves
Around my neck
Some days
I wish I wasn’t
So committed
To this god
I wish I hadn’t
Spent so much time
Learning the rules
I want to be excommunicated
Discard my racing heartbeat
Peel away my bouts of depression
I want to join a support group
And share my cult stories
Where my fears kidnapped me
From my family and friends
Write a book about my survival
Tour the world
reciting past doctrines of my anxiety
But instead, I stretch myself
Along my bed
Arms open
And sink beneath the weight
Of my religion, my anxiety

A beautiful keepsake

Are the words

I miss you




Hold them

Close

Softly dance

Along fingertips




I can see you

In the outline

Of each word




Lingers

For a second

You name

Upon my tongue




I miss you

Is a sweet moment




Tucked under my pillow

Blanketing my dreams

Your smile

Is always close to me




Fold your memory

Carefully

Hold it in my back pocket

Reading it over and over

In every spare second




A beautiful keepsake

Are the words

I miss you

Breath frozen in small puffs

Huddled close

Catching the first snow

Stand in the middle of the parking lot

As if this is something new

You are sleeping alone tonight

I know you will be hurt

Or just lonely

For we seem to fill each other’s time

An outline will be next to you

Maybe you will miss me for once

Looking up into the night sky

Watching snowflakes

Dance, dance

So graceful

Gradually coating my arms and head

Smiling I stand there

Each snowflake a new beginning

Erasing the patterns

I have been caught in for so long

It is time to say goodbye

To this safe lullaby

Wednesdays are solitary shadows

Stretching across my skin

Imprisoned in this week and you caught me off guard again

Where your smile is a hello and my face is your doormat

Lay you baggage down and welcome in problems

I listen, listen, listen

Until everything floods in with a kiss and I tell you

What you want to hear

Then you fade with Thursday

Leaving a photograph as your calling card

Black and white, we are

And I am left waiting to hear your laughter

Feel your touch

And changing the locks

I want to say more
Than your name
Or I think it is your name
It comes out a jumbled mess
A mouth full of scrabble tiles
I spit out words
You tell me I talk too much
Peel myself apart
Exposing my heart
Before appetizers arrive to the table
And you can’t enjoy your salad
With my heart beating
Upon your plate
I try to zip myself back up
It was too late though
All my stories flooded the table
Blabbering the details
Until I could make a nine course meal
From your ridicule

She wore the results of last night’s fight

On her face as badges of honor

Sitting on the curb, she is waiting

Waiting for a ride, an escape

Away from this life

Neatly tucked away in a small corner apartment

The sun beats down upon her back

Rays pounding until her body was sweating

And she wanted to cry

No one to call and nowhere to go

She sits outside a church

Hoping for charity

Thinking she should get some religion

Then at least she could confess her troubles

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt

Knowing she had nowhere to go

Except a curb outside a church

Discarded, like a five year old sofa

Permanently sunken in the middle

Or an old office chair missing a wheel

So always teetered to one side

She slumped forward

Watching the traffic speeding by

Hope lingering on her face

Tucked in the wrinkles around her eyes

Maybe, she needed a sign

With HELP scribbled in big bold black letters

Then maybe she could find something more than this curb

Maybe she could find her escape

Her way out of this cycle