People say,
I should be over it.
"It was, like, a year ago. Stop being so afraid."
Don't you people see?
A year ago is all too close to me.
(and, for the record-- it's 11 months and 6 days)
How do you just 'get over' the loss of your peace of mind?
I sure as hell haven't figured it out.
I still see him
in my nightmares,
in the flashbacks.
Some people think I actually am over it.
But I know that I am not.
I flinch when others touch me without warning,
I cannot open the front door,
I'm unable to walk down the street.
I'm so hyper aware of what happened to me.
I swear, he is buried in my sheets.

So don't tell me to get over it.
Unless you can somehow tell me how.
  

                         (d.d.b)

When the words
do not come.
And you stare empty,
onto the pages that
tell tales far more colorful
than any songbird singing
its perfect tune.

Then speak out loud.
Words flow with such
fluidity and solidarity.
Pouring out of me with such
beauty that my fingers with
pen clenched could never muster.

Beautiful lyrics and words
and rhythms escape the confines
of this screen or the paper prisons
poets use to capture them.
The best works the truly inspiring
and jaw dropping, tear jerking
sentences and phrases will never
be seen to the world, when spoken
out loud.

Leave me high.
Leave me gasping for breath,
In your absence.
Leave me pacing the room
And falling to the floor.
Leave me in solitude
That I know so deeply
As to call it my friend
Leave me standing
Or sitting
In the dark,
Or filtering sun through my lashes.
Leave me to feel
My own heart
Beating through
A thin shift shirt.
Leave me in my mind