Shianne Michelle

Shianne Michelle May 2017

I got your message, Though it was never sent.
I heard it loud and clear.
Your silence cut through me, Sleep Evaded me and I could not tell you.
Tell you the roses that drape across the bed still have thorns.
that possessive wears the mask of a protector.
Teaching yourself to hold onto your protest so that he will still want you.
Confusing Love and Abuse, volunteering for the draft of his war.
Begging to become a causality of the love he claims to feel.
I've seen this, I've written these words once before.

#best #friend #bestfriend #slam #free #verse #slampoem #freeverse #possesion #abuse

Shianne Michelle Jan 2017

Untitled

And Yet Still, I Am The Common Denominator

Shianne Michelle Jan 2017

To You

I found love in watching clouds move across the sky.
And fear in the smell of Wintergreen Grizzly Tobacco.

#love #poem #short #fear #hate #dad #family #tobacco

Shianne Michelle Jan 2017

Apology

"To apologize is to admit failure"
My father told me as he left the front door open on his way out.
I never learned make the first move
"Let them come to you"
So you must see my hesitation when it comes to apologizing
Isn't out of ill intent.

Shianne Michelle Jan 2017

Alice

Run far away alice
You're dying in wonderland
The hatter isnt coming.

Shianne Michelle Jan 2017

If my Mental Illnesses were neighbors Pt. I

There is a man who lives above me

They call him "Depression"
He is said to lurk in the darkest corners of your mind
feeding off your inhibition and self confidence
You find him in familiar eyes and unwelcoming smiles
Words that cut like blades into skin
He lives for misery.

There is a woman who lives below me

They call her "Anxiety'
She finds you in sweat and short breaths
climbing into your body like putting on a sweater
she pulls every muscle and fiber of your being stiff
She lives for your shaking hands and wet palms.
She lives for fear.

#depression #illness #anxiety #mental #guilt #venom

Shianne Michelle Jan 2017

Monday (Draft)

The woman with the suitcase walks past bowlegged, She bounces as her violet scarf shuffles around the base of her neck
A mother, I know, Just by the way she holds her coffee with such elegance making sure not a single drop falls onto her non-manicured fingers worn from washing crayon off walls. She walks forward with no worries of whats behind her, a mask to the world but its all too real for her.
We call her Monday.