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Lindsay Apr 2017
"What a waste of a face."
A waste
because of my waist.

My waist has been wasted
because of the space my waist
takes up.

The beauty of my features penetrate
but the reality of my body disfigurates
what that man thought I should be.

But,

I am not a waist.

I am not a waste.
By Lindsay Johnson
Lindsay Feb 2017
Standing solid and still
just like the red oak it once was.
I trust it will hold me.
It’s sturdy and reliable.
Like the man who once sat in it.
The man who once held me.

It’s a coffee and cream color with
highlights of gold
and low lights of auburn
and each crack and stain tells  
a story

The Maleficent purple stain
on the back right leg.
a toddler that would grow to be me
running with a PB&J in hand
unaware of my brother's Hot Wheels Derby
taking place beside the table.
All it took was one untied shoelace
and all I remember is a symphony of tiny cars
clinging and clanging
and four year old me
falling face first into the tile
As the PB&J propelled forward
smearing brownish, purple goop.

The crack where your left shoulder
might touch if you leaned back.
I honestly don't even know what it's from.
Maybe an argument that got too heated?
Or simple ware and tear over the years?
I never asked. 
I’ll never know.

This chair brings me both
comfort and pain.
Comfort when I sit after a long day on my feet.
Pain when I walk by and stub my toe unexpectedly.
Comfort when I remember all the times he held me in it.
And pain when I remember he will never hold me again.
By Lindsay Johnson
Lindsay Nov 2014
I'll never forget the moment
I truly felt alive
the day I stood paralyzed
by your Clark Kent eyes.
Lindsay Nov 2014
Hello perfection

My antibiotic and my infection
My poison and my medication
My difference and my correlation

Hello perfection

My sting and my sensation
My peace and my temptation
My dread and my anticipation


Hello.

How will it be done today?

Will you smile a promising smile
followed by a casual “hey”?
Will your eyes sing “give me your body”
while you turn and walk away?
Will I follow where you lead just so you
can lose me along the way?
Not today?

Then how today?

Will your hand subtlety reach for me
and make my heart cry “come to me”?
Just for you to drop it effortlessly
while my spirit dies simultaneously
Pretend you want me…

But not really?

You destroy me.

You don't agree?

You know exactly what you do
You do it because you have to

Because you need that internal power
Every day laying bricks to build your tower

Your ego must be fed
At the expense of my head

At the expense of my unconditional love for you
My un-explainable need for you
My psychological desire for you
My undeniable adoration for you
Everything I have done for you

Everything

I have given you everything

It’s not enough...
You are too ignorantly tough
I fight to chase down your bluff
And now my air is gone; I huff and puff

Don’t you see I’m dying inside?
All the while you’re lying inside

*******- you are worthless of my constant admiration
You play with my emotions like you’re a crooked politician
But I refuse to let you triumph this obscene and sly election
How could I have ever once called you my perfection...

A kiss?

You want a kiss…






Mmmmmm...








Hello perfection.
By Lindsay Johnson
Lindsay Nov 2014
I've never heard a voice speak so weak
yet still puncture my ear.
I've never heard a single word spoken
that enchanted my darkest fear.
hell-fire struck me deep like a dart
as if anacondas were suffocating my heart.
My body turned cold.
as I tried to fathom what I've been told  
horror and regret eat my living flesh whole.
Question after question contradict in my soul.
Acid tears scold my eyes;
reactant to a mind
that is overwhelmed and flooding with doubt.
My anguished internal spirit cries out
  Why…
Why?
Why would he abandon his family like that?
How could he leave us so soon?
What were the thoughts damning his mind
when the gun to his own head, he drew.
By Lindsay Johnson

— The End —