there's an angry voice inside of me
i need to write down
and let loose.
but it only comes out as a whisper.

i use the things i won't do,
like death,
to inspire me for things i try to do,
like being alive.

If you accidentally
             fall out of love,
Do you just dive
                back in head first?
           Feet first??
                     Eyes closed???
        Cannon ball????
             Or
Do you walk away
       Cause you can't swim
And you're scared to death
                   of *drowning?????

Unbeknown to her, she was the other daughter.
The clairvoyant said she was born of water.

“Your beauty is your saving grace,
for so admired is your cherub-face.”

“My dear child, hold my hand close to you,
& see here, a young girl; veiled in black.
Worshipping the moon, beside a wolf pack.”

“For you, are celebrating a Lunar New Year,
requesting the spirits, my dear
beholding the Universe in the palm
of your hands. In the shadows, a silhouette
is walking towards you; a woman of a quintet.”

"You hear the piercing tone of a shawm,
a choir of voices & women barefooted
whose anklets ****** as a ritual dance
begins. But you stay. A statuette in stance."

© Sia Jane

It’s always said that being a Third Party is the worst. The Third Wheel, the Fall Back Friend, the Tag Along Buddy. Labels for that person make one feel bad about having this spot.
But you never hear the good side, do you?
~
        She looked amazing in this glorious white dress of hers; one of my longest and most cherished best friends was standing in front of me ready to walk along the red carpets. There were no words between us, we just looked at each other and  smiled. The memories of our past trickled through our minds as tears slid down her face…
I remember the first time I met her.
        I remember the first time I met him.
        We became a trio, us three. An unstoppable group of friends that wouldn’t be broken up. Looking forward to seeing each other made even the worst days great. We were kids, youthful and energetic kids always finding a way to bother each other. The laughs we shared, the arguments we had. The memories, the headaches and heart flutters.
I remember when she first liked him.
I remembered when he first liked her.
But before I could begin sprinting after them to exclaim my affection as well, they were already ahead of me. Their silhouettes had strings connected to one anothers heart.  And I was left behind to find my own way to them. I became the third wheel.
There were stolen dances,  given kisses; forbidden love, and true love.
        We had created such a mess of strings, I ended up being trapped in the middle of it all. The Third Wheel pedestal. But it wasn’t a ***** pedestal, I made sure to keep it clean.
        I knew that the feelings I felt could not be acknowledged. My feeling were meant for another and I was to be their Third Wheel. However, I would not be a Third Wheel of wanting to belong. No. I became a Third Wheel of support, a pillar to keep them happy. Our trio couldn’t be broken so easily. Even when he went away to war, even when she started a career for herself. I reached to the ends of the earths for them, helping support them even if they didn’t notice me anymore.
        I made the title of Third Wheel into my armor; and they became my beloved family to protect
        And here I am now, still their support and still their best friend. She muttered words of thanks for our friendship. Her breath was shaky, but my hand on her shoulder helped calm her nerves. One final breath- and she turned to walk out the huge doors. She walked toward him; he smiled at her. They both looked so breathtaking in her dress and his tux. I stayed back and watched as they said their words of commitment and gave their kiss. The smile on my face was something I couldn’t fight, I was happy for them.
        The heavy pillar I carried to support them was ready to be put down. And once I let the weight off my shoulders, I took a breath of relief. One last look at them. One last look at the trio of what used to be kids, now grown adults ready to face the world.  The cheers and music in front of me was my closure, as I turned and walked  down the steps; ready to take on the world with the title of “Third Wheel” bravely.

Today is not my day.
I feel like.. like.. I've lost it,
I feel like I've lost my special talent..
What if I never had a talent what if I really am not a writer or a poet, what if everything my teacher and friends say is a lie.. What if I really do have a talent and **** it's gone just like that. Oh boy, I feel it in my chest.. I feel the lie and the lack of confidence in myself... No, no!  I will NOT tear myself down after I've worked hard to bring myself up. No! I am good I'm not perfect or amazingly great but I AM good. After all I'm just a beginner right.
My talent has just shown itself.. This may not be a poem but this is me. This is what they say is my talent.. They say I am a good writer. I must see this for myself.

i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.

- m.f.