There was a time when I had it all.
I felt big even when I was small.
In a home on sunset boulevard,
When I had it all.
Mornings on the terrace.
Lunches out on the bay.
Father standing tall.
Mother full of grace.
Never planned for me to live out of this suitcase.
I know in me they had faith.
But lacked it with each other.

   We moved further to the east side
They fell out of love.
Couldn't keep the fights to themselves,
Not even for my sake.
They couldn't rise above it all.
Didn't think of me at all.
Not even the holidays remained the same.
I miss our family Christmas cards.
Portrayed us in our best.
We loved each other genuinely.
Back in the day when I had it all.

We went to Texas and they said they missed us
Have to keep praying for a different pop song
I can't keep standing around your understanding,
that's a cue for our marriage to die
and you don't even have to ask why

I used to hear him crooning, which caused some swooning
I loved to be in love; having a heart beyond
eighties pictures and frat guys named Richard
******* to a new control
and I've never felt so whole

I never remember
my dreams
but three nights ago
I dreamt a
disturbing
dream
about a car accident.
In my dream
I watched a
bride and her groom
get plowed
over by a
runaway truck.
(I think it's odd
that I want a truck
so bad.
Don't you think
that's odd?)
The mother wailed
blood was on the asphalt
the sirens screamed in my ear
but they didn't arrive
in time.
I just watched
the gore.
Just stared while
their hearts
stopped beating
and air
stopped flowing
through the places
it should flow.

Then I woke up and
have been disturbed
by my dream
ever since.

I dreamt that dream
three night ago.

A new beginning,
A comparable ending
It is the same poem
I keep writing.

The message differs
The titles adjust
One more figure of speech
For picking up a broken piece.

Elusive alterations
Editing the outcome
A plethora of versions
For my book of poems.

Another round,
Back to square one
Are there any words left
This heart has not said.

Let's take a second
Recalibrate this conversation
You do know, right
That I am the hinge on this life
I don't want praise
Or a pat on the back
But even hinges need WD-40
From time to time.
**** it,
I need to be greased constantly
I'm needy in that way
(Therapy helps)
But look into my day-to-day:
On my left is the Wall,
My root and my reason
My family (my girls).
The Wall is permanent, important
(Those words don't do it justice)
On me it relies on necessities of life.
For that Wall, I hold the Door.
The Door on the right,
Replaceable, not solid,
It's a means (to an end)
That Door is temporary, minute
(Compared to the house)
And on me it rests, day in and day out.
On ME it rests
I  am the only hinge
The other?
We won't talk about him
But hinges only have two hands, you see
One on the wall, one on the door
I have no hands that are free
Hinges are fierce little *******
That are good at their jobs
But they age all the same

So *******.