Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2013 Samantha Heimroth
Julia
My trembling arms raise a hammer
above my head,
An "iron fist" of sorts.
With each weighted step
Towards my reflection,
My arms scream,
Threatening to buckle,
But I must push through the pain.
With a force I thought impossible
To muster up,
The hammer came down,
Shattering the mirror, and my reflection within.
A deep, warm breath filled
My belly and lungs;
It was the first real breath I'd had in weeks.
Fresh air had never tasted so sweet.

You see, all this time,
I held my shattered heart
In my own hands.
Only I, myself, was able to stand up
And start again.
Overwhelming guilt lost her jealous hold,
And control stepped to the plate.
Echoes from the past
tear through my soul
to expose me to the
cruel world I live in.
     It's that time of year again...

Abandoned by many
caught up in their everyday lives.
While I scream from within.
Hold it together.
     It's that time of year again...

My front is quite solid.
I've done this before.
No one knows...
I'm doing good.
     It's that time of year again...

But the loyal one's, they stay.
They endore my agaony with me.
It pains me to know that I am hurting them
by showing my true colors.
     It's that time of year again....

Some tell me I'm strong.
Don't they realize this only weakens me?
Leaving me quivering in the darkness
alone and scared.
     It's that time of year again...

But then I think of you,
"Broken Wing" is playing in the background
Embarrassing me in public....
Calling to pick you up while you hide behind the store...
What!  You're not allowed to skateboard through Target?
Come get me Mom...

I miss you.
You would anger me so much.
But I would laugh when you weren't looking.
I long for that laughter now...

Thank you for the joy that you have given to me.
I will love you Always and Forever.
     Especially at this time of year....
It's only 11:30 when I plug it in and go bed,
Screaming at myself, tears in my eyes
It had only been five days
and I didn't love her Monday,
I grew into it
and I thought she had too,
until those three words came from her tongue-


"I have someone"

my world shouldn't have shattered
I shouldn't have stayed up all night
screaming at myself and writhing in pain,
clutching my aching stomach.
I should have rolled over and gone to sleep
unsurprised.

I should be used to it
Used to spending nights like this
Used to being dissapointed
To having to turn the thermostat up to 75°
so I'm not cold at night.
To having to get on facebook and talk
so I don't fall asleep completely lonely.
To having to write so I can say
"I love you"
at the end of a poem
just to get those words out of my system.
I stop halfway up 12th street
and stand there, letting cars pass me
not moving an inch.
I want to stay there
standing in the freezing rain
staring at the last curve of the road
until I fall over
frozen and soaked to the bone
waiting for someone to stop,
to get out, wrap me in a hug
and pull me to their car.
but I know  nobody will
that I'll die here
forgotten on a busy road
so I continue on
back to my empty, useless, repetitive life.
 Mar 2013 Samantha Heimroth
Julia
Of all the pet names,
You used to call me Sunshine.
I'm not real sunny,
But you still called me Sunshine,
Up until the day it rained.
A tanka is a five line Japanese poem structure. The first and third lines have five syllables; the second, fourth, and fifth have seven. It's harder than it seems. :)
He throws the booster seat on the carseat
and I squeeze in among all the crap.
I close the door and he floors it.
squealing through the grocery store parking lot
blaring tech n9ne.
he almost speeds into the blackberry bushes
but jerks the wheel to the right at the last second
and makes it feel like we're gonna flip end over end at every speed bump.
he take another quick turn, a left, at the end of the lot.
we turn left again at the four way, without stopping.
he speeds up more when goin up 7th
and the car starts smoking around the trailer park.
we reach my house and he burns out in the short stub of driveway.
I get out smiling,thank him, and fall into the ditch.
The can of monster falls out of my inner pocket, so I put it back,
dig myself out, close the door, which I hadn't successfully done
and walk toward the door.
they back out, almost hitting the apartment fence
and speed off toward his house.

this is a rare moment in my life,
my dad being who he is,
stupid thrills like this are few and far between
so I treasure each and every one of em
 Mar 2013 Samantha Heimroth
Julia
Most love poems sound the same.
The ones by desperate, lonely teenage girls
Are the cream of the crop,
Filled with every cliche in the freakin' book
From sparkling eyes, and shimmering hair
All the way to rippling muscles and the
Sweetest of kisses that leave you wishing you could just
Live in that moment.
Ugh, they make me want to die.
I'd be interested to read a real love poem,
Written with true emotion
And passion.
But that would require a genuine love,
Not a week long fling,
Or even better?
A one night stand.
I may be cynical,
But there must be a way
To express affection without the use
Of overworked cliches that make me want
To stop writing altogether.
Next page