Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
martha May 2019
I’ve always been good at navigating. I can find my way in a crowd or a city unknown to me. I no longer get shaky when I think about getting lost. Asking strangers for directions has never been a problem. My legs take me as far as I need to go, and my feet share secrets with the road to bargain with back in the bazaar of my head. We know how to get there. We usually do.  I tried going to my happy place today. Turns out it’s hard to pinpoint on the myriad of maps I’ve been making since I was 4 years old. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what counts anymore. Places I once knew to glow yellow from the inside out have dimmed, and most old memories have the scrap of a taint too sharp to touch still attached to them. I have problems with letting go. I find it hard to forget the same way an elephant keeps count of every word anyone’s ever said. You would think this would be an advantage. Sometimes it isn’t. It is hard to try and write new on a slate that was never wiped clean. I have changed. I am envious of everyone able to close the boxes they’ve packed away. Because the lid on mine never seems to fit properly. It is tiring to be responsible for your own hurt every time you have to hold the door shut to stop the past from lingering. Nails ready to dig into the New you’re doing your best to treasure. I think about the temporary nature of all things. How no one is invincible. No one is ever as perfect as we project.  I am not without my flaws or faults. In fact, they have grown bouquets on my sleeves and have built their own corsages on my wrists for when my heart is too heavy to smile for the camera. I think of the “who” rather than the where. The bubbles I have collected with my breath and held with full air in the hopes they don’t burst. Their rainbow undersides and defiance to my gravity while never floating too far away outside my hazy atmosphere. The happy they have given me to make my own. The happy they radiate during visiting hours. The happy that soaks into the knowledge that I sometimes do the same. I am grateful. Always grateful. I may not have bought my house yet but I can always keep renting the flat where the couch is always cosying up to a comfy I am lucky to accommodate. It still smells like warmth and conversations  yet to come once they leave. Until next time. Let yourself in.
martha May 2019
It's easy to let glass stain from holding it up to the sun
to look through and see how pretty it looks in the light
you don't really register the change in colour
before the ink starts to taste different
and your tongue can't be held responsible

I took care of all the promises our younger selves crafted so carefully
blew them through straws into the waiting room for belonging
somewhere further down the line
speckled with all the possibilities the older us would follow through
bring to fruition with all the worldly knowledge we intended to collect along the way
scribbled down in patchwork scrapbooks
feathered with sketches of our pink penthouse apartment
outlined in crayon
cemented with glitter glue and grins

"best friends forever" can hold the same weight
as your last "I love you" to the wrong person

we don't talk about those ages anymore

when in each others company
we now engage in polite conversation
dances with small talk
punctuated with weak smiles and a pause

until the years catch up
bubble at the surface of old videos and photographs
bathed in laughter and "remember when"s aplenty

and we sit comfortable in knowing
we will never make new memories
as the us we have grown into

but the locks to the old one will never change
they'll always fit the keys we cut

together
for the friends I have lost along the way x
Jan May 2019
I crave a heart
that can feel.

I crave eyes
that will look at me.

I crave arms
that might hold me.

I crave your heart,
which makes me feel.
I crave your eyes,
which will never meet mine.
I crave your arms,
which only hold me
when it’s time to say goodbye.
Atta May 2019
i always thought something bad happened
in a midway of our journey
that sometimes i found myself with trembling hands

i have lover
i have friends
wealth
health
and everything
you might be dreamt of

but it never changed how timid i am
in every path, every direction
and i always found myself lost in blue
It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, even longer since I’ve seen you,
And although I miss you I’m glad you’re not around,

I’m relieved my phones not ringing at three am, cause every time I thought it’d be someone telling me your body has been found,

My heart breaks every time I see a recent photo of you, the sunken cheeks, the dark circles under your eyes,
Every time I think of how you’ve hurt your body, with every pill that touched your mouth came another string of lies,

I can’t stand the person you’ve become,
I wonder how something so tiny could bring along so much pain,
What Id give to wash away all your sins with a little bit of rain,

The last time you were at my house you promised you were clean,
But your words were slurred, and I could tell reality was less serene,

You fell asleep on my bed within minutes of arriving, I desperately wanted to believe that you were just tired, that this was a result of a year long battle finally won,

I told you I was proud of you,that I loved you, sent you on your way, but in my heart I knew, this war wasn’t done,

Two days later your aunt flushed a bag of pills down the toilet while you cried in the garage,
She gave you your life savings and told you to get lost,
Not because she doesn’t love you, but because she’s tired of the lies,
She doesn’t want to see the child she raised, slowly die in front of her eyes,

That day I knew I’d truly lost my best friend,
You’re living on borrowed time,
I pray every day that you overcome this,
All while knowing it’s close to the end,
If only the judge had ordered you into rehab when you got that DUI,
Maybe then we’d be celebrating your 90 days,
Instead of drying our eyes,

Opioids stole our friendship,
Please don’t let it steal your life,
I don’t have room in my closet for another black dress,
I don’t have room in my heart to fit the grief of another overdosed friend,
Please if there is a god, send her a helping hand,
Because I’ve tried everything I can think of to keep her from ending up in your land,
And honestly I think you have enough angels right now,
don’t take her from us yet,
I promise we will make it up some how,
And lord if you can lend us strength while you’re at it I’d appreciate the gesture,
I don’t know if I can take another broken promise or another “ I don’t need to go to rehab lecture”,

If only getting clean was as easy popping pills,
If only loving someone with an addiction didn’t leave me with constant chills,
If you’d have told me that by my mid 20’s half my friends would be dead or dying,
I’d have rolled my eyes and told you to stop lying,
But I guess we are all dying- you’re just dying faster than I am.
loving people with addiction is hard.
Next page