I don’t know why I miss you
It’s truly a mystery to me
But seeing your face,
Hearing your laugh,
Brought back some feelings anew.

When you told me you thought I was fine
That eventually I had no tears to shed
You didn’t know the pain I felt
In my heart and in my head.

And how could you know?
It’s not like you were there.
But every time I saw your face,
I was filled with despair.

You said, you thought I was happy,
That I was over you,
Done.
But that day you saw me smiling
At night all my feeling were piling
Up in my heart and it felt like I couldn’t...
Like I couldn’t even breath,
Laugh,
Sing.

And now I’m here,
Years later.
A new person,
A proud person.
And you...
More poised
Happy
Content.
But what’s funny is all the ways we stay the same.

I’m thankful for the time we spent
A chapter that finally feels closed.
You were once my moon
My stars.
And you still shine brightly
You’ll never completely fade,
But now our lives can see brighter days.

I’ll never forget the love we shared.
You were my first.
You taught me lessons,
And somehow you still do,
That I can use in my new adventures.
And though you may be gone,
Though we may not speak as much again
You will always
Forever
Perpetually
Be my friend.

I stand on the shore, my feet sinking in the sands
My hair tousled wild in winds hustling hands
Covering my face, veiling my eyes
Distantly, I hear the seagulls, their yearning cries.
I grip firmer and hold myself tight
In dusk's diminishing, dwindling twilight.

I watch the waves lunge at me -
Overwhelming, menacingly.
But as they race to the shore, reaching my feet
They drench me, turn back and then recede.

I see another wave, I yearn to move a step behind
Fear and uncertainty fill my troubled mind.
But I still stand, stand my ground,
Unmindful of the sounds
Of the winds and the waves
In a trance, lost, nature's slave.

I nearly fall, my balance lost
Taken by surprise, by waves tossed
But I still stand, stand with unsteady feet
Where the land and waters meet.

I, on the seashore, a speck, besides a sea so vast -
I know that each wave will rest and it too shall pass.

Don't call Trump a chimpanzee.
Chimpanzees can't talk.
Don't call him a pile of ****.
A pile of **** can't walk.
Don’t call Trump an Orange
That would be indiscreet.
You see, different from an orange
Trump is in no way sweet.

Don’t call Trump a swindler
Take his fat *** to court
Because when he needs proof
He will always come up short.
Don’t accuse him of bribery
Unless you have the proof.
He’ll just change his residence
To another unlisted roof.

Don’t call him a squanderer.
He’s not if it’s his money.
Trump likes stealing from other people
He finds that hilariously funny.
Don’t accuse him of gross lechery
He feels that is his right.
Don’t appeal to Trump’s conscious.
He doesn’t have one quite.

Don’t expect Trump to speak the truth.
He doesn’t know what that is.
When they were passing out ethics
He was off taking a wizz.
Don’t whine to us about that ****
And how he disappoints.
He’ll claim you heard him wrong
And that is his only point.

Don’t hope everything will work out
In any way in your favor.
Doing what’s right for regular folk
Is not Donald Trump’s flavor.
Don’t look for anyone in authority
To rescue you from the dump.
And, of course, most of all
Don’t call Trump.

Remember when your father left you?
Well, I sure do
Because it follows me around every day,
Especially times like these.
And no one understands how that can make you feel
When someone else leaves too.

You think to yourself,
“This is the person, this is who will stay,”
And even when things are going wrong,
Affecting you,
You still say,
“But this is a constant, and it is safe,
I want to stay.”

But some people aren’t ready,
And maybe some people don’t care.
Either way, they can go easily,
And eventually find some new pair.
But that desperation stays with you,
To feel safe and in a constant,
And so you go through a panic,
A frenzy,
That no one understands.

People will judge,
And say what they think,
But they will never understand,
The true feeling of being the daughter of an alcoholic.

Because if they did,
They would not pass judgment,
And, perhaps, would not even be pompous,
About how people “should” act,
Because there is no true way,
To get over being left.

And so today on this Father’s Day,
And week where many things have come to end,
Just remember to
Live and let live,
Listen and learn,
Let go and let God,
And most importantly,
Take things one day at a time.

Sleepless words in droves to fly,
As weeks or months or years go by,
I think, and over think,
As all my dripping thoughts go, "plink",
Into the deepest memory vaults,
For more over thinking in my endless waltz,
Of two steps forward and four steps back,
I'm surely not regressing. though its progress that I lack,
Cause though years and months and weeks have gone by,
For some of my actions I still wonder why

A New Year comes with regret for the old
And in many ways,
I can see why.
Because most years call for the weather of tumultuous storms
Of fights, and heart ache,
Crying, and yelling.
And I'd be lying if I said
This horrendous omen didn't come true.
But I don't really focus on that much,
Because of you.

Though with pills and shrinks,
Managing was brought,
With you I found
That happiness could be caught
In each moment of shared glances
And short slow dances
Soft and slow connections of lips,
And skin being caressed with finger tips.

And though we've had our fair share,
Of letting the rough weather forecast in,
When the storm has past
There is no anxiety left behind,
Just relief and contentment left within.

And although the year calls for similar storms,
With you I'll stay inside,
Safe and warm.
And no hail can pierce through our skin that easily,
For catastrophes fear open doors,
And open hearts.

How do you know when you're in love?
Sometimes I cannot tell if it is just a phase,
Or the real thing.
And then I wonder,
Does love exist.

So let's look at the facts, shall we?
Right,
There really isn't any.
Love is supposed to be that fuzzy feeling inside,
The taste of a warm cookie,
The perfect last chord in a song,
But what is it really?

No one ever talks about the hard parts of love,
The little arguments,
The hard conversations.
No one talks about disagreements,
Or hurt feelings,
Is that how it can be?
Can there be a little bad,
With a lot of good?
Can all that make,
Love?

Maybe love is working through those things,
All the hard times,
But how do you know?
Maybe love is being afraid,
Not in the I'm scared for my life kind of way,
But in the afraid because maybe love hurts.
It hurts to be vulnerable,
And it hurts to let someone in.

And maybe the reason it is really terrifying,
Is because maybe you won't know what love is,
Until the end.
You have to live love,
And let love live,
In order to know what is.
And maybe that's why it's scary,
Because know one living has a clue.