Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Saw another counselor today.
Heard her say my homicidal urges weren’t serious.
Tasted annoyance on the tip of my tongue.
Smelled the new white paint on the walls.
Felt nothing but hatred.
the school counselor
what a cliche
but your nonchalant attitude
is irresistible
you're young too
it's quite uncommon
how'd you get this job, if i may ask?
ignorance is bliss
as they say.
nonetheless, i haven't seen you much
except in the halls sometimes
but you called me downstairs the other day
and i noticed how you're not so perfect
as i imagined
you've got a beard to hide your acne scars
slightly overgrown eyebrows
but, very broad shoulders
dressed to the nines in a suit every day
blue or gray, to be precise
when you spoke to me
asking if i was skipping class
you were awfully close
not that i minded
i'm also not sure where you were looking
i hope at my lips
rather than my eyes
eyes are the window to the soul
and we both don't want to know
what my true intentions are
wrote this on the metro coming home.
A Harris Mar 2018
Stale air takes the stage in this office,
With the dust of many conversations held.
Many come in  broken down and disheveled.
These exchanges primarily hold premise about getting away from
the void that they have carried for far too long.
It has left pieces of them scattered, for others to collect.
In time these souls learn to put themselves back together in hopes
That they might not break again and in the process heal inside.
An lifelong battle but a worthy one.
Just a reflection in the profession that I am in and the desire to help individuals.
Naomi Hurley Jul 2017
When I was
seven years old
I crept down our stairs
in the dark
it was just about midnight
on Christmas Eve
and I
wanted to catch Santa Claus
as he put presents
under our tree

When I was
fifteen years old
I laid on his bed
in the dark
it was in the evening
during the summer
and I
nervously waited for him
to shove his *****
inside of me

I hid
near the fireplace
anxiously awaiting an arrival
hands clenched into tight fists
giddy with anticipation
waiting in the dark

I spread
open my legs
feeling pressured and defeated
the TV blared so that
his mom wouldn't hear
my hands clenched into tight fists
I didn't want to touch him
but I
waited in the dark

I didn't see Santa Claus
it was my parents
shoveling presents under
our tree
my verbal exclamation of shock
and betrayal
led to them disciplining me
for sneaking around
in the dark

I didn't look at him
my eyes wandered around
his room
gazing at the guitars and
posters and
the closet and
even the TV
he ******* and
left me there, cold
in the dark

At school,
I told all of my friends
that Santa Claus wasn't real
I wanted everyone to know
the counselor pulled me aside
and said that it wasn't fair
for me to take this
from the other kids
it wasn't right
it wasn't my place
"Let them stay innocent
a little while longer."

I didn't want anyone to know
when I lost
my virginity
tears bubbling at my waterline,
I looked at myself
in disgust
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't right.
It wasn't his place.
Except there was no counselor
for me to speak to
only the sound
of water droplets
as I cried in the shower

I thought that
I lost my innocence
when I found out
that Santa Claus wasn't

this IS real
and hurts
Why be a Counselor?

“Why be a counselor?” People often ask of me.
“The pay isn’t high, and the paperwork is beyond belief.
The stress you must have, dealing with people’s problems all day”.
So, I look at them, and I try, my best to explain.
“The pay won’t make me rich, you are right about that.
The paperwork's insane, and we always need more staff.
Yes, people come to me with a lot to explain.
From broken homes, trauma, and unimaginable pain.
But you asked, “Why be a Counselor?” so let me share with you.
Why I continue, to do what I do.
It’s the light in people’s eyes, when they first find that hope.
When they empower themselves, and finally learn to cope.
It’s watching them find a new life, one they actually want to live.
It’s the joy of the families, as they reunite and forgive.
It’s that one day you wonder, “am I really making a difference in what I do?”
Then your email reads; “I am happy and well, and I want to thank you.”
“That’s when you know…” I say with a tear…
“There could not be, a more rewarding career”.

-Monique Renee Smith
Erin Jan 2016
"And how does that make you feel" she asks, pen poised over clipboard.
I want to scream at her, tell her that mere words could never hold the weight of what I feel
But instead I stare fiercely into her eyes and say...
"how does it make you feel, to know you can't save me?"
Annie McLaughlin Dec 2015
See a therapist five days a week
Cry seven
Declare "I'm fine" twice
Don't mean it once

See the therapist 2 days a week
show seventeen scars
Smile "I'm fine" next
Don't mean it, though

See my therapist six hours a month
I've been happy
"more than usual"
Does she think I mean it?

Saw her therapist two days ago
Go again next week
"Yeah, I'm fine. I know. Yeah
She was in a lot of pain
and it was the only way out
and I understand that now."
Does she not know I mean it ?
Michael Ryan Dec 2015
It's not really a window
but a picture of a boy--
that somewhere in my counselor's past
allows the kid to peer into his future,
into a time that is no longer here.

Maybe it reminds my counselor of better times
or the opportunity he is lucky to have now--
the boy must represent something
but I would not know for sure, as I am not him.

Although I did ask my counselor one day
about this window that watches him work--
this young boy, nothing but a child
normal as most youth always looks
the photo only granting an image
not the whole picture.

"He was a spitfire"
must have been only four foot five,
if that probably shorter
he was rough and tough
not even the Seniors were willing to bother him
those same seniors became
the boy's friends took care of him
they had lots of fun when they could.

The boy.  The Window.
Was not the usual ghostly clouds
or the average bleached pale Caucasian
as their defects were in their circulation
the wind cannot move through mountains
and neither can blood pump through chambers
without the right gust.

Sometimes children
lay down to never wake up again--
maybe it's in the hospital
for another heart surgery
that just happened
not to catch the wind quite right.

The boy was a student--
his counselor was there for him
at a different school in a different time
that even as it flows
the counselor has a window
for this boy
to watch the world from.
My Counselor has a picture of a boy that was one of his favorite students.  The boy was sick and did not outlive that one year of high school that he tried his best to attend.  He died during heart surgery never making it off that table.  My counselor said he still thinks about that boy everyday.  And it has been many years since he passed away.
Hannah Lace Dec 2015
My counselor asked me
if I’ve ever been in a committed relationship.
I began to tell him all about you
and how you won me over with a guitar
and a love song on my 16th birthday.
I informed him about how lovely your family was,
and the Sunday dinners at your grandmas house.
The more and more that I told him about you
I realized that I loved you so much,
and that love for you never went away.
Memories of you are so many,
but I know you’re happy without me.
I just wish that I wasn’t so crazy when you let me go.
I wish I would have fought a little harder and cried a little less.
I wonder if this love for you will ever leave me alone.
I am in love with you still
Next page