I remember pressing my
innocent ears to the mouths
of discarded seashells, just to
hear their secrets; and I shared mine.
They told me secrets in the form of
ocean waves and whispers of wind
between the fingers of the palms.
On days that I feel the world
crumbling and combusting
around me, I press my wiser
ears to the same lips that kept
all my secrets safe. I remember
the advice seashells gave to a
young girl who'd felt discarded.
Be like the ocean, let it flow.
I stalked our horoscopes;
I deciphered the coffee grounds.
I even took the time piecing
the broken mirror back together
to read between the cracks,
in hopes I'd receive a sign.
The Universe told me to
stop searching the unknown
for answers I already know.
My coffee grounds suggested
that I needed to sleep, and
the shattered mirror crooned:
"Put yourself back together
before you try to mend another."
How do I silence the screeching
Of the monsters inside of me?
Scowling phantoms cast judgement,
Plaguing my body with a sickness;
Insignificance in a cyclical pattern.
Transfigure this wasteland into
An alluring garden; a sort of haven.
Lure the beasts away so I may sleep