There was a small fire
low, hardly burning.
It wasn't warm
but it was something to look at
something that changed
in a house that stayed so still.

Little words, simple words
on a white screen
They speak louder then I could

The air was cold
was freezing.
The air was like ice
But the cigarette warmed everything
Your lungs
Your finger
Your conversations.

Eventually it kills you
like everything else does
But it's cheaper then a woman.

I resolve to achieve health
Physically.
I resolve to not lose weight,
to celebrate my strong woman-ness,
to go to bed earlier,
and never forget sunscreen.

I resolve to achieve health
Psychologically.
To have courage against the stigma
of needing someone to talk to,
to cry when appropriate
and to take every opportunity to laugh.

I resolve to love you
Deeply.
To honour you with my
thoughts and movements,
to compromise and support,
to adore you with all my heart.

I resolve to find my resolution
Not at the end, but rather in the turning of things,
I resolve to move.
I resolve to give.
Within every struggle
I resolve to live.

If I were a poet
I would know the
perfect
word
to describe
how it feels
the moment I open my eyes
and realize
it was but a fleeting dream
I don't even remember what you look like
in this physical world
only a blurred image
residing in REM

If I were a poet
I could print the whispers
and wonders
and describe with diction
The raging burning battle
with my conscience
that created such
bruising and anger and irritation

the scars those thoughts have left me
They rise
with each moment of intimacy
even after forgiveness
has been mouthed over      and over       and over again

If I were a poet I'd
have the most beautiful acceptable
apology

But alas
I am no poet
or pious princess

Nothing ceases
It's always there reminding me
a personal private world
of pain

Shame
I beg you
Die with all of
last years deciet
do not                                         follow me.