I had a dream last night
that I couldn't remember
until three little words
brought it all back

In an instant
like a whiff of a smell
or the chorus to your favorite song
three little words brought
me something back
I had no idea that I'd lost

What do I do now?
I've been left a present
on the doorstep of my consciousness
nothing to do now
but acknowledge it
There is nothing to be done
nothing to say
other than a sigh
and that
I wish life was that way

Dear Loyal Customers,

I regret to inform you that My Heart will be closing effective immediately.

I have enjoyed having y’all as customers and we will miss you dearly.

Unfortunately, due to the recession, I must close our doors.

I cannot afford to stay open during this terrible economic climate.

So there will be no more bad choices, good choices or poor decisions.

I understand this maybe a shock to some of our most loyal customers; however, we know your wives, fiancées and girlfriends will be happy to have you home.

There is the possibility of starting up again, when I get enough credit to afford the costs.

Maybe in a different town, in a city far away, My Heart will open again, but until then, it has been a pleasure serving y’all for the past three years.


Sincerely


Cornelia
Owner of My Heart

The years before the drugs
before the smiles
the bright times
the easy nights
were dark

But I only knew darkness so
to me it was brighter than the sun

There were nights of red bull and vodkas
of googling obsessions
and losing my personality for a weekend
There were days and days of misery

my sobs
my screams
my nightmares
my tears
your tears


I would scream until the air in my lungs were gone
I would get down
I would run for hours
and I would feel my skin crawl

The years before the drugs I was cruel
a 13 year old girl with a razor sharp tounge
hell bent on expressing pain
any way possible

This experience isnt unique
but just because it isnt unique
doesn't mean I dont need to apologize
for the years before the drugs

I'm sorry.

An old man once said, "Being in love is like the color TV, once you have it you never want to go back to Black and White"
This sounds too beautiful to be wrong
But too foreign to me to be right
So here I sit,
Remote in hand
Studying each channel I see
Looking for a hint of color

Does it happen all at once?
Or seep in through the corners?
Or a scene at a time?

Sometimes I think I see some color
Coming into the frame
But as soon as I think it
It’s gone before my eyes
Just a trick of the light
Back to that old black and white

Is that a new costar?
To colorize my life?
As soon as I see him
He’s gone
And I’m back to black and white

It’s too beautiful to be wrong
To unknown to be right
But when
Oh when
Will I have color in my life?

Whenever I pass
something
That shows a reflection

I can’t help but look
and see if I can see
the reason people
say things like:
             Beautiful
                       Gorgeous
                                Lovely
                                          Pretty

                                                      Every time I pass my
                                                      reflection
                                                      I’m on the lookout

                                                                                                      I haven’t seen it yet.

They say that smell
Is your strongest sense
When tied to memory.

That just a whiff of a smell
Or even thought of a
Smell can bring you back
To a place and a time that
You had previously
Thought were left behind.


For me the smell of
Bleach is comfort, as my
Nanny used it as a
Standard, household
Cleaner. I love that smell
As well as of my favorite
Dinner, mildew (reminds me of summers spent
At camp, living out of a trunk) and
My favorite flowers

Each of these smells I
Love to revisit time and
Time again. One smell
Though has embedded
Itself in my memory and if
I have my way, I’ll never
Smell it again.

Mom had Colon cancer most
Of my time in
High school.
No clue on the stage
But it was best not
To
Ask

Surgeries, chemo, radiation, the
Whole
Nine

Things seemed to be fine,
Well, even great
Until it took a turn

My mom has never been
Skinny; she is petite, but
Normal

Suddenly she looked like
A holocaust victim
She would get quiet
Draw into herself
For periods of time

Another surgery. Fine
She returned home
And then something crept in

That something was death
And I’ll never know how I knew
You just know.

The smell of something
Dying
Isn’t pleasant
It puts you on edge
And turns your stomach

Mom was confident
That she was getting better

The smell, that can’t
Be described (dying tissue, pain
Suffering) was glaring
To me

I never asked Mom or Dad
If they could smell it
Because the smell of Death
Isn’t a sense that should
Be shared

I would just maintain that
I didn’t think
Something was right
A day or so later

Surgery. Fine. Home.
Smell.

Surgery. Fine. Home.
Smell.

Surgery. Fine. Home.
After that last
Surgery. The smell
Left. But even now
When I think back
To that time
That complicated time of
Soccer games
Chemotherapy
Apply to college
Surgeries
The one thing in the
Foreground
Is
That
Smell


Just a whiff of death
Of human decay
Of dying
Of suffering
And I’ve had my fill
For a lifetime

I said our joke yesterday
And almost laughed
myself back

Your father's company
was at the exchange
And every broker had
your face

Your name
Appears in my phone
I try not to remember
your alcohol laced breath or
your beliefs on Taylor Swift

I read about the team
And think of you

You. All of you. Are now
apart of me while you are
apart of them

Where does that leave me?
Alone, incomplete,
thinking about you
who never thinks about me.