I used to hate poetry
Writing it especially
My teachers would make us write
Sometimes about ourselves
Sometimes about family
But I always half-assed it
Not really putting much thought into it
Then I had Ms. Mosnik
She ignited a spark
A love for something
I never fully appreciated
She didn’t tell us what to write about
Just told us to write
And the words just started flowing
She had us write one poem
I wrote four
And I kept writing
I met my muse
And fell in love
Then I broke apart
And my poems weren’t as great
But I’m writing again
And maybe it’s not my best
But there are words on the page
And I’m proud of myself
So much can change in a year
So much can change
In just a few months
What a roller coaster this life as been

She gave me a chance after no one else would

She gave me a chance when I thought nobody could

It's in my grasp and I can almost taste it

A child of autumn lives next door,
her face glows with amber blush;
Her lovely voice floats through the air,
so soft and tender is her touch.

Just sweet sixteen with freckles,
and bright ribbons in her hair;
With a flouncy skirt of gingham,
as she prances across the square.

She gathers leaves in woven baskets,
then brings them back to me;
This gesture always warms my heart,,
as we share some cinnamon tea !

Her smile is quite infectious,
as she munches on a scone;
But soon she rushes off to see,
her mama and papa at home.

Endearing child of autumn,
forever close in my aging heart;
Your life holds years of happiness,
when from this earthly world I part.

You scratched
Me with your
Lesser love
And its stubborn
Painful scars
Continued to
Brutally remind me
For the longest
Period of time
About the presence
Of a fatal flaw
Within my system
That rendered me
As an
Ineligible seeker
For an unconditional
Infinite love

i hate myself
for needing closure
that you are not willing
to give me
i hate myself
for having to ask
i hate myself
for still caring about you
i hate myself
for still loving you
i hate myself
for not seeing
the way you treated me
was never what i deserved
i think part of the damage
is that when i was with you
i lost part of myself
i began to hate parts of me
that i used to love
and now
i don't know how
to love all of myself
to love the parts
you helped me hate

Soluble like salt in water,
Temperature of sun that gets hotter and hotter.

A dead man who never comes back,
A 20 year old train with its last journey on the track.

The rusted strings of guitar which can't possibly be used,
The old man's life when he was a kid and all the fun that got him amused.

Decisions are like these things and can never be taken again,
If so would happen then infants would never turn into men.

don't tell me that
all men with bouquets of flowers
also have knives in their pockets
not when you fed me poison every day
and called it medicine