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Shelley Dec 2011
Bitterness**
"What an appropriate name," she thought
"for this foul feeling that tastes so akin to bile."

She ran her tongue along the ridges of her hard palate,
hoping that her saliva might creep into every crevice
and cleanse her being of this sharp vindictiveness -
Sour anger that left a trail of puncture-wound footprints across her shrinking heart

Equally corrosive and repulsive as it flowed through her bloodstream
She clenched her fists in an attempt to catch the feeling before it traveled another inch
As physical as it it felt - running through her, running over her -
she eventually came to understand that her ailment was far from physical

When she could no longer stand it, she fell to her knees
And prayed to a God in whom she'd never believed
The intellectual in her pushed Him away with embarrassment
The seven-year-old in her embraced Him like a dearly missed imaginary friend

An internal tug-of-war ensued, but was short lived
The vivacious strength of her young heart
Quickly lost to the tired feebleness of her old mind
She set aside her pride, calling out the suppressed longings of her soul

Much to her surprise, she felt an immediate loosening of ties
Weights lifted; beliefs shifted - everything seemed to fall into place
She let out the deep, deep breath she'd unknowingly held
And recognized a feeling of ease and serenity that had evaded her for months

She realized with a smile that she was grateful for the bile
For without its damage, she never would have met her healer
Shelley Dec 2011
The cover of the night.
My haven
Like the werewolves,
Like the vampires

Beams of sunlight
wrap me in chains
of daytime normalcy,
of the mundane

Sleepwalking
actually happens in waking hours
And darkness
clouds the day


The moon rises
to take the place of my other captor
and to release
the Lunatic in me

Free to roam,
with the North Star
guiding my footie-pajama-ed feet
down starlit paths of wonder
Shelley Dec 2011
feigning performance
pleasing the convinced, clapping crowd
of duped deafs
Shelley Dec 2011
Flying

is not some motion
caused by wings
or a propeller of sorts //
But rather a freedom
that comes with the absence of weight

And today
*I soar.
Shelley Nov 2011
There once was a boy who knew

her lines were drawn in the sand
he knew where she chose to stand
but he ebbed and flowed like the tide
and washed all her lines away

the tides tumultuously turned:
took off running and left her burned
when he whose first step seemed harmless
acted thoughtlessly against her *No
's

quickly the sand turned quick
her body began to stick
- to his, and she sank
unwillingly into his rhythms

forever changed *her
rhythms, her course
with the force of his own (inter)course
Ignored her Pleads
for the sake of his "needs"

recollections slightly blurred
but it's unfogged that he heard
he Knew.
*he knew.
Shelley Nov 2011
Another drop. I writhe.
My insides scream
*Stop your tears!
Shelley Nov 2011
Busied myself
and missed yesterday
     marking three years since you
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