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Chrissy R Jul 2014
Tossing and turning
In my bed –
A pebble.
Slowly I am rocked by
Waves of dreams
Until I am no more than sand
On the shore of my pillow,
Gritty between the sheets.

With the dawn
Tide rolls out.
All manner of sea creatures,
Each more complex than the last,
Rest on my chest as I breathe
Deeply and try to recall
What it was to be a stone.

Abandoned shells,
Beautiful but
Empty
Lay between my fingers.
Shards of glass fall into the depths and
Wash up
On my toes
Sharp edges gone.

I cannot decide if I like
These things
Or if I would rather return
To being a pebble
Chrissy R Jul 2014
Are you a breeze that ruffles the hem
On my dress as I pass?
Are you the hurricane I cannot escape?
Is silence the rain you leave
In puddles at the steps when you walk in?

Would you come back to me if
I ran through the night
And became covered in the inky black sky?

I am less than the butterflies in my stomach
But I think I could be more for you –
If you promise to be the sunshine.

Already you are a perfect chord
While I am just the harmonies.
Where ever you go I follow.

I am only the seconds falling off
The watch hanging on your wrist
Somehow you still manage to tell the time
And wake me from a dream.

All this because you are the gun
And I – the bullet heading through the glass.
Chrissy R Jul 2014
A man once asked me to tell him three things I knew to be true
I said:
“Lightning always comes before thunder

The sun will always rise in the East

And I love someone with all my heart”

His response was:
“When the storm is overhead, lightning and thunder come at once

When the Earth is no more, the sun will not rise

And one day time will bring the storm and the end of the Earth and all you knew of love will die.”

I told him “Sir I may be naïve,
But when the storm is overhead, I will have someone I love to shelter me.

When the sun no longer rises, I will still have the warmth of that love in my heart

And when time brings the end of the Earth, I will die happy knowing time could never bring the end of love.”

He said, “Does the truth mean nothing to you?”

I replied, “I love someone with all my heart. This is the only truth that matters.”
Chrissy R Jul 2014
Dusty
Boxes
And worn out
Trunks.

Rusty
Locks
With missing
Keys.

Broken
Furniture
We used to
Love.

And so many
Clocks.

Those gears
Stopped
Long ago.
Somehow time
Kept turning.

Nothing was
Lost.
We kept it
All.

Put it
In the
Attic.
Let it
Gather
Dust.

Think of it on
Stormy
Nights
When the
Wood
Creaks
Above our heads.

In the morning
When the sun
Comes out
And the grass
Smells
Faintly
Of rain
We tell ourselves
We will go
Clear
It out.

But life moves
Quickly
With the
Spinning
Sun
And soon
Night
Returns.
We are

Too weak
To get the ladder.
Too weary
To climb the steps.
Too fearful
To find
The keys
And go into
The dark.
Chrissy R Jul 2014
I found a poem
Itching under my nails.

I tried to scrub it off
but it was a stain
with a pulse.

I kept it and
Named a feeling after it,
but it wasn’t enough

Or the name wasn’t right.
It knotted my tongue
And caught in my throat.

Then finally I had to scream
But the only word that came out
Was you.
Chrissy R Jul 2014
Did I crack? A fracture perhaps. When I was little I would watch the storms from my window and was told not to stand too close. There is a break. The X-ray missed it. Rain splattering onto concrete and bringing earthworms from the dirt. Did you know they drown if they don’t leave the ground? But above it for too long and they shrivel up and die. Will I leak now? Water and blood trickling from a fissure in my surface? There is a formula to see how far away the storm is. Seconds corresponding to miles between a flash and a bang – simple math. The pressure could build. Maybe I will explode from it. In the fourth grade I sat next to James Strow and learned that thunder was warm air rising up. An unstable cloud, turning on itself. And now I cannot find my pieces.

— The End —