There are no ghosts
no Christmas past
only flashes we can't
recognise
because they go to fast.

There is no present
underneath the tree
because
we sold the future
in order
to be free.

This conversation's for one,
a solo
operation,
an under occupied
occupation
it's always a vacant
situation
when the empty cab's
for hire.

And then there's dire warnings
about floods and global
warming,
'no harm in that',
says the cat with nine
lives.

I become the pessimist
in trying to be the artist
and
day by day I age away

time is very cruel to
the wise man and the fool
in equal measures.

The
Words
You
Speak
Become
The
House
You
Live
In

surrounded by
shell-glossed earthtones
teals on magenta
images of americana,
from native moccasins to
an embroidered 50 states
(of slices of mind)
engraved tobacco canister,
grandpa’s favorite pipe
crafted crochet blankets
spun out from grandma’s hands
like magic
one antique menorah
lit in holiday memories
books and photos in movie star
glamour mixed with
wild-haired natural
smooth polished woods and
painted cityscape, all
slick rugged cozy
colorful trinkets against
subtle plush
of beige, elegance of
textures in tandem
love’s timeless flame
wrapped around me,
like a flannel blanket
acceptance and welcome
ringing
in my pores like freedom
and I float upon this bed
in my mother’s home,
once mine
(still mine)
as in a river
flowing out tendrils
our bond unbroken
past and present bathing me
in deep-seated roots of caring
what more could a daughter,
now also a mother,
ask for

I feel the subtle changes in the air
  and alter so I might align with you.
We glide with one another, taking care
  to match and mirror each and every move.
Life dances. Sudden motions counteract
  the pause, bringing balance to where we're bound.
Everywhere, in the tracing of our tracks,
  we had left beautiful trails to be found.
The carrier of great things in the mind,
  our wings are lifted by the warmth of love.
We are two old souls that have been assigned
  to soar like eagles circling high above,
have come together with the rising sun.
  Home is a journey that has just begun.

the thing is i hate that i still love you
i hate that i still want your opinion and need to tell you everything and care about what you have to say because the truth is I deserve so much better than you.
you are terrible to me.

i hate that i miss you and i feel like ill die with you

i wish i didn’t care about your happiness because the truth is you’re a bad friend and an even worse person and you don’t deserve to be happy

you don’t deserve redemption or a chance at happiness

i hate you because you made me hate myself

all those sleepless nights and minutes spent picking myself apart in front of the mirror and moments i spent rocking myself in bed at night because i was too heartbroken and insecure is because of you

for one second of your narcissistic life i wish you took a good hard look in the mirror and realized the terrible person you’ve become.

you’ve destroyed all the good things in your life and you don’t even care

one day you’ll be drunk and alone surrounded by people who don’t love you as much as we did and realize that your life is meaningless  and the empty solo cups around you are held by people who really don’t give a **** about you, but by then we will have moved onto bigger and better things

i don’t know how you live with yourself knowing that your heart has turned to ice and no matter how many times I bang on it trying to get through to you it never thaws and I’m the one left wondering what I did to make you forget about me…

i don’t want to see you because of how much it hurts my heart and I don’t want to hear you because it reminds me of how much you took from me and I don’t want to think about you because you don’t deserve me.

i wish i could hate you but i can’t

i’m sorry you **** so much because i really wish you didn’t …

i love u so...

She felt my thirst.
Grabbing my legs lifting me in the air.
I had no idea what was about to happen.
The plastic removed from my face, the breath of life.
I felt comfort in her hands.
The places that were cold were no longer.
I've never felt a warmth like the one she provided.
The softness of her hands.
The way I sunk into her eyes.
For the first time I felt special.
Like my voice could finally be heard.
My thirst forever quenched.
Head driven first into a glass of milk.
I drunk until my head swelled.
Her hand never leaving my side.
Although I drunk my body remained slim.
No matter how self conscious I felt she reassured she would always smile.
I swirled in emotion, an eternal need that would forever be purpose