Bones-Let’s let them be dry and ******
As if that be the way they were found
Let them crack and fracture and bruise, amongst the concrete ground
Let them have their space to break and wither away-
Let’s turn the other cheek-while behind us they quickly decay
And then let’s use their fossils for fuel, weapons or laddels in every size
As simply as to stir the ***, and smug at their great demise
If not ashes to dust, then what'll be of our bones we fast to give away-
Sewn better than not, twist an arm for play-

But simple pleasures wither too, bones we toddle but dare not fix
Let them wonder how we toyed our hearts- like a feverish game of pick-up-sticks.

-Bre Womble

Once I had an undesirable roommate
I was in college at the time
I was assigned to a girl not so great
She did things I considered crimes

I thought if I don’t get some relief
I will lose what is left of my mind
My stay at this college will be brief
How can I leave my troubles behind

I walked down the hall of my dorm
Feeling very sad and forlorn
Then suddenly I had a brainstorm
That would heal all the hurt I had born

Quickly I slipped into another room
I met a girl I had long admired
Holding my breath, did I dare presume
She was working quietly and seemed inspired

I didn’t know if she knew who I was
If she would even listen to my request
I told her the problem that had caused
My world to be so greatly upset

She seemed not a bit surprised at all
For in a dorm rumors fly like the wind
She smiled at me and my southern drawl
Would you like to join me and move right in

Her words were like a balm to my soul
I quickly moved my possessions in before
My old roommate could return and stroll
In to make a drama scene that I abhor
That was my college freshman year
I remember many friends and good times
But the best decision I made was clear
Moving in with Jean Shuey was prime

She was smart and always a lady so fine
Five years older with some gray in her hair
I was an extrovert and spoke my mind
Together we made the ideal pair

All that year she gave me much pleasure
Studying and talking late into the night
I always thought of her as my treasure
Without her I would have been in a plight

Time has its way of rushing on
After college we lost contact
I saw her a few times over days gone
But I failed to call or keep track

Today I decided to contact her again
Soon I found her address and phone
I wondered if her would still be my friend
Or would rather just be left alone

We talked for hours of good times and bad
So much to catch up on after thirty years
We both had lost our dear mom and dad
But we said good-bye without any tears

We planned to email each other often
And meet at a restaurant for a meal
I hope we never again let years soften
Our love and admiration, time will not steal

there is nothing quite like being with you ...

sitting cross-legged on your warm crumpled comforter in dim amber light
with hunched backs against the white stone wall,
silently working to piece each other together,
merging thoughts and shoulders,
falling into each other's gravity and orbiting like stars–
we couldn't figure out
how to get any closer ...

we lived in shoeboxes then,
in ***** laundry and ramen-flavored freedom,
the soundtrack in our background
shuffled steps and muffled laughter through thin walls,
pencil scratches and elevator dings,
wooden doors and heavy coats,
cars in the snow rushing by our open windows,
hot cocoa, creaking bedsprings, and
singing–

I have been listening for the music in the things here–
I have searched in comforters, in stone walls,
in laundry and ramen,
in slippers and open mouths and pencils and elevators and doors and coats and cars and snow and windows and chocolate and bedsprings and everyday I try to remember something else I can dissect:
some texture, some melody, some pattern, some rhythm
where you might exist too,
but your music
is nowhere else.

we live in big empty houses now,
in hardwood floors and toothpaste-flavored loneliness.
I can still hear our shoeboxes
and feel the pull of our gravity
somewhere
fading ...

Baseboards lined with spiderwebs
That shimmer in the slanted sun
Next to worn, wooden chairs
Feeling sturdier than ever
Shelves and shelves of
Outdated textbooks and encyclopedias
Crinkly and brown and yellowed
How many trees went into these pages
This forest rearranged
And defaced by movable type

I sit in my school's dusty library
Like a picture taken on film
Full of grain and texture
Frozen beams of light
Through slanted venetian blinds
Capture and hold dust
Suspended like dew in a spider web

Rigid, impasto clouds
Stick out of the sky
Like Van Gogh
Put them there himself
Sky peaking between
Buildings and towers
Pushed and pulled
Twisted and ripped apart
Like fabric tearing slowly
Moved by the breeze
Invisible currents slicing
A silent cacophony of air
I reach up and feel
Solid, dried paint crackles
Under my finger tips
I pull my hand away
Digits stained white and blue and gray

Shifting streets and their buildings
Pulsing and moving and shaking
Jagged and prickly corners
Edges of windows glint
Like drops of blood
On the edge of a sword
Walls and sidewalks
Rough like a giant cat's tongue
The skyscrapers carve the landscape
Into a distorted forest
An amalgamation of today
And yesterday and the day before that
I reach forward and feel
I pull back in shock
Fingers pricked and knees scraped

Happy
Sad
Confused
Depressed
Lonely
Social
These are all the things I am and always feel
I try and reach out
To get out of my comfort zone
But I can only do so much
When all I feel is unwanted
I see all my 'friends' hang out with one another
but never ask me to do something
why is that?
My anxiety makes me think it's cause they don't want me
They don't like me
My therapist says no it's just that everyone does things with different people
Then how come until I reach out
I will sit alone in my room waiting for that text
inviting me to do stuff with other people