My self-conscious body has never felt more beautiful than it did in your arms
Your voice was the quench to my thirst
And when I read my poem to you, you could hear all the emotion in my throat
And your reaction was this
"Ask me to be your girlfriend again"
And let me tell you that was the perfect response
The weeks I spent without you are ones I never want to relive
You've left your mark on me
Literally, on my neck is a love bruise or a bruise from your kiss or whatever sappy phrase you prefer
Some people say they wear their hearts on their sleeves, well my heart is hid deep inside this girl named Kylie
I've never liked that name until it made me fall in love
She is why I write poems and she's the topic of every sentence I write and every conversation I have with a stranger
Baby I need a cigarette and a handful of Xanax to calm these nerves
Actually, I'd choose you over cigarettes and pills anyday because somehow you give me the same effect except the high I get from you never fades

In the 2nd grade
a puppy love
crush on the
teacher steeped
deep in me

to my delight
her clear eyes
recognized the
promise of a
chubby boy
in all of his
quaint simplicity

her gentle
voice, friendly
and firm, filled
with caring instruction

the giddy class
attuned to her fresh
brunette bouffant, bunned
and perfectly coiffed,
speaking style and
youthful whimsy,
not a strand of hair
out of place

her svelte figure
flowed through
classroom isles
filling the space
with scented graces
of prescient carnations

that afternoon she
was abruptly called
from the class

when she returned
our beautiful princess
was sobbing

she concealed her face
then turned her back
on the class, crying
in a corner to dismayed
blushing blackboards

regaining composure
she turned
exposing her tear
stained cheeks
and dissheveled hair
to an unsettled class

“the President
hurt his back” she
announced.  “He’s
in the hospital.”

Whoa… I thought,
the President hurt
his back.  That's
terrible I surmised.

our beloved teacher
dismissed us
and resumed her
tearful grief

when I arrived home
my mother was
sitting on the bed
weeping.  “President
Kennedy is dead”
she blared.

my mother’s rumpled
housecoat and
tousled hair flattered
her flowing tears and
anguished sobs.

the tears of women
marked the end
of many puppy loves that day


Bob Marley & The Wailers
No Woman No Cry

Oakland
10/15/13
jbm

Tick tock, tick tock.
One more minute til I can clock in.
On goes the apron,
and my name badge pin.
Up goes my hair,
pony tail style,
perk up the cheeks,
for the fake prosthetic smile.
I clock in and walk,
small little talk.
Five more minutes til opening,
tick tock, tick tock.
I wipe off the tables,
open the blinds,
look outside,
and there's a small line.
Oh great,
here we go.
It's now twelve,
so let's start the show.
I say my little speech,
and give my little greet,
take down there orders,
and repeat, repeat, repeat.
Not even close,
to being done,
I have one table,
with a Mom and son.
Another with a man,
old,
newspaper in hand.
Both are polite,
funny and nice,
only request,
is a refill with ice.
The old man waves me down,
probably wants the check,
I have it in my grasp,
and make sure it's correct.
I hand it over,
he leans in closer,
and asks me about the lady
at table 480.
He says,
"has she paid for her bill"
I reply, "no not yet,"
"well then put it on my tab,
as a part of my check."
I stood there shocked,
mostly surprised,
cuz in my town,
no one does things of that kind.
His next request,
was to stay unknown,
as he said to me,
in a soft sincere tone.
I changed his total,
a smile cracked,
never met someone so nice,
he replied,
I'm just giving back
The lady with the son,
is now ready to go,
and when I tell her it's taken care of,
she moves really slow.
No longer in a hurry,
her eyes become blurry,
and in her purse,
she begins to scurry.
Looking for cash,
in disbelief,
and with a soft touch,
her arm I reach.
I say it's okay,
you don't have to pay,
someone took care of it,
for you today.
She begs me to tell,
and let her know who,
but I explain,
that's just something I couldn't do.
She understood,
with joy in her eyes,
and then the tears fell,
as she began to cry.
With her sons fingers,
tangled in hers,
they left me with a feeling,
I can't put in words.
I clean off the mans table,
grabbing an empty ranch dip.
I glance at the check,
and he left me thirty dollars tip.
This person,
giving generosity,
with the gratuity of their hand.
Doing it out of sincerity,
this gentle hearted man.
My day of repeat,
comes to a pause,
by the thoughts,
of this individuals cause.
My boss barks
"we just sat you two in the back,"
but this time,
my repeats,
don't seem as bad.

© Copyright 2013 Desiree Sheppard

Time Machine

  Sweet sunshine spreads across your bed as you breath, breathe scented with Playdoh and black raspberries from the front yard. I watch your chest rise, fall, rise, fall.
“There’s my boy. Time to get up. Rise and Shine.”
That grin, before you even open your big blue eyes, those windows to your soul, those orbs that reflect my own face back to me.
the softness of your young skin, freckled from long summer days.
Here we are content in this solitary moment.
I have a desire to dive head first into a black hole to stop time.
Growing up means girlfriends, heartache, peer pressure...*** ( frankly I am not ready to have that conversation)
Growing up means getting closer to the time when you won’t really need me anymore. It means understanding that the world  out there has teeth...
Then you will get your driver’s license, freewill.
I want to dive head first into that black hole to stop time so maybe we can hold onto this moment forever.

At bedtime last night you confessed you are scared of the those dark pockets in your room.
“What are YOU afraid of, Mom?”
I think I said fire, spiders. it was a lie.
I couldn’t bare to tell you about the funeral today.  You would ask the question that doesn’t have an answer:  Why was he driving so fast, Mom? And I would have to admit that I don’t have the answers this time.
Telling you would be like telling the moth about the flame, crushing your own dreams before you could even imagine them. I can’t tell you what it was like to watch his friends huddled in a circle, holding each other up to keep from throwing themselves into the grave beside him.
Past the circle, stood the body of his mother. Only her body. Her mind wasn’t there, It couldn’t have been. Because I am a mom. I have you, my boy and I know.I know that ****** created a vacuum for her hopelessness. Otherwise she would be ripping out her hair, screaming, clawing, jumping in the casket with the body, trying to forget that his lifeless image is now scorched into her brain for eternity.
That brain works like a time machine, gears turning, visiting the day at the ocean when he flew his first kite, seeing him in the photo next to his first bike, his first missing tooth, his first school dance, his first crush, his first basketball game,  his first car...   Memories upon memories turning brown like old photographs.  Her time machine now searches for the memory of his last dinner at home, his last words on the phone, his last basketball game, his last breath....
My boy, I hope I never need that time machine. But that black hole will not keep you here with me in this moment, young and innocent. That biggest fear you asked about last night.... is losing you forever, my boy.
Stay alive. Erase all other words of wisdom ever parted from my lips. I don’t really care if you use the word “ain’t”. I will cover my ears. Leave your jammies on the floor, forget to wash your face, leave your bike in the rain, play baseball instead of walking the dog, lie about finishing that essay, come home past curfew because it took awhile to gather the courage to kiss her. I won’t be mad. You will be in this world and I can look into your bright eyes again tomorrow...without that **** time machine.

it's simple, i cheated myself to absolute affection. To the direction of love and being the object of the lesson hurts the mutual party, he said, "i must think about things," and even then i was loosing to my silence with distaste, with shame. Shame the subject of friction rubbed me raw. Made a new fool out of an experience player; who built a house of cards. as if emptying every pore of sweating anticipation, i was ****** dry. lips crushed and chest burned up in a momentary lie. "you are faithful. You are loving, caring, and honest." But i wasn't. How could something so simple be a gamble worth loosing, worth choosing to beat happiness upon? Wrong, misguided, forlorn, and frightened of being alone, the man was making his reasoning. you are a liar, a cheat, and a thief. my heart was yours and here you have given it back to me? what pride what shade that corrupt the sunny day I adored you...wasn't i more to you than a stupid act of satisfaction? so i disperse in temporary madness to think about the sadness growing and folding the lines i tried to speak. with the words i could not reach for an analogy. And yet i am forthcoming. and still i don't know the warnings of a heartless bride.

No matter how long I stood under that hot water
It could not beat the defeated feeling from me
If anything it only bruised me more
I stared at white porcelain and products that
No matter how long I scrubbed
Left me feeling just as clean as that grimy shower curtain
I was coming to the conclusion that this wound was more than skin deep
And I had know that before, but I wore denial as a blindfold
Because in the darkness I couldn't see that all the makeup that I pretended wasn't very much
Was doing nothing to hide the puffy red and purple eyes
Evidence of tears, too many to allow for sleep
I'm too much of an open book for makeup and clothes to make any difference
I know, they know, you know
I'm tired of the look
The look of pity that has morphed into one of exhaustion, because they are all getting bored
With my mundane heartbreaks
I don't blame them
But this isn't sadness anymore
I'm lost
I feel defeated, by myself mainly, because I can't even pretend I'm mad
I'm just lonely, and I'm tired of not knowing what to do, or how to feel
I want to let it all go and have the "fun time" they're all living
But I don't like their fun, it's too much
I'm too fragile, always so fragile
I don't want to believe it's done and the all the best things break
I don't want to forget you, the way you looked at me, acted around me,
held me close in that same shower
I'm preventing my own healing
I'm fighting myself, still
And I'm just really
Really tired