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Jellyfish Jan 17
I'm not here to judge your perspective
We were in the same place but our childhoods were different
We saw and felt different things
It's not a bad word, it's the way we perceived and lived through everything

We may have been in the same places,
but couldn't see through each other's faces.
We both had our bad experiences
and found ways to get through them

It's been so hard for me to let go
but after we spoke I think I finally know,
I can't do the work for you,
You have to want to evolve for you.

I can't tell you every story I have
and believe you'll understand where I stand or where I've stood,
You have your own desk where you'll write your book
Although it hurt, because I had so much hope.

You preached so much to me about how we should be close-
You told me how you wished for a relationship to grow,
You said I never shared, never asked and never cared.
I feel like I tried so much but your words make me feel unaware.

It hurt when you told me I hide,
Probably because there's some truth to it,
that hurt me deeply inside.
I have masked around our family for as long as I can remember.

I learned so early that I wasn't what was wanted
I was only loved when I went along and nodded
I always agreed, except for when I couldn't
I'd say no to things to avoid the acting

I hated that I had to be a certain way
To stay free of your judgement
I couldn't wear the shoes I wanted,
or play the songs I liked in the car without hearing your homophobic comments

Having to become every expectation
It is how I have lived for so long
I'm so burnt out now
and I finally don't have to be strong.

I went along with it to avoid the uncomfortable feelings I had,
Every time I would have to be around you
I put up with things I should've never had to.
I'm talking about your husband putting your cat on my face when I was asleep and he knew I was allergic.

The more I reflect, the more I see it
Everything you've projected on me
To avoid your own feelings
The clothes, the music, the comments, the expectation of who you wanted me to be-

I'm sorry you feel like you can't keep growing
Now that you're older and have your own family
It must be so painful to be stagnant
When you want to fly with sunflowers

I hate that I make you feel negatively
and there's nothing I can say to help you
I tried the hardest I could to be honest
and because I did my best, I am now free of my mask of burdens
Every time I'm asked to play guitar or wear a certain outfit, eat different foods, be any kind of different I immediately feel drained because of these experiences that come to my mind.
Heather Horner Dec 2023
He captains the ship
with a grin
You’re all in
Hoist the sail
Climb the rigging
Settle down in the cabin
Close that door in behind,
You want to go live in
His life, your life, his wife
You say

He scoffs at the crew
But not you
You’re the maiden
He’ll find treasure to hide
In you he’ll confide
And provide
The answers you desired
He knows best
You say

When seas are rough
And he’s had enough
Surrounding ships wreck
All are affected
Once important neglected
It can’t go undetected, surely,
As he undresses you
with his insults
Addresses all your faults
He’s just stressed
You say.

Your attempts to rekindle
Throw you overboard
His words
undercurrents,
that drag you beneath.
Used to swim
Now amongst the weeds
Can’t help but concede
He needs me
You say

You struggle
You had learnt to blow bubbles
But now you’re in trouble
A muddle
Confuddled
That’s typical for you
He says

You plead to be rescued
Lock eyes with the crew
But they’re through
So washed ashore
Bedraggled and torn
He picks you up
Keeps you safe,
Loved
And warm
You say
Feedback welcome! Been playing around with this one and know it needs a little work. Thanks 😊
Jellyfish Oct 2023
You ask me for a favor,
I said I have to decline.
When you ask why,
I feel full with pressure

Deep down I think
So I can live my life.
You push for more;
Vague details aren't enough

I feel so anxious,
Why isnt no enough?
You push harder
and I tell you I got a job.

You try to ask me what
and I say it's a secret..
It's mine to keep private
You ignore me.

Days pass until they stop,
You decided to lash out.
You accused me of things,
I feel pushed around.  

I'm tempted to tell you
Just how abrasive you are.
But I take time to process
And respond with charm.

You ignore me again,
I feel a bit burdened..
But you're so passive aggressive,
With your uncomfortable expressions

I didn't make you have kids,
I didn't tell you to run away,
I never made your choices
It's me who I obey.
Jellyfish Oct 2023
Part of me wants to scream these words from a high place and hear then echo back; "I'm sorry!"

I'd pretend every person from my past was shouting it back to me and maybe then I'd actually be able to let it all go.

I could stand up straight and look others in the eye without having to wonder about their every lie.

I'd never have to hear my sister tell me I need to forgive again. I could say to her face
"I already have"

That would make me feel so happy and full, to know she can no longer say to herself "my sister is a fool."
Ira Desmond Sep 2023
Our trajectory is unknowable, you tell me: the planet
corkscrews around the Sun, sure,

but the Sun corkscrews around a black hole at
the heart of the Milky Way,

and our whole galaxy travels on some mysterious,
incalculable vector. But sister, I saw a photograph

in which two whale sharks were brought to
heel by men in simple reed boats just

off the coast of the Philippines. All that they had
to do was often feed

the sharks many gallons of grocery-store frozen
shrimp, poured from plastic garbage bags into

their yawning six-foot maws to portside.
Gargantuan, sure, but still

as obedient and eager for food as backyard
squirrels. I remembered a grainy

internet video—I saw it probably seven or
eight years back—in which

a captured whale shark was winched
ashore in Madagascar, or

maybe it was the Philippines again—no matter—
the thing still had life left

in it and struggled to breathe while a crowd of
people gathered around—there were

women carrying babies, girls holding baskets atop
their heads—and then the

men came with a long slender blade and sliced clean
through the whale’s spine, vivisected it

right there on the dock, and the onlookers stood there quite
unfazed—I remember

being shocked at the effortlessness of the cut,
the pinkness of the whale’s blood,

and the boredom in the onlookers’ eyes. Our father
took us down to San Antonio

on one of his business trips there when we were five
or six—I think

you were probably too young to
remember it—

it was when you and I saw the ocean for the first
time. We drove down to the Gulf

of Mexico, and we saw waves breaking
out near the horizon in pale

sunlight. I kept scanning for a dorsal
fin off beyond

the breakers, thinking that I might spot one—
sandy brown, mottled with

cream spots and glistening—so that I might be able to
say to you, pointing, “look,

sister, there is a whale shark!” Years
later we would learn

that he traveled down to San Antonio so
frequently because he was a philanderer. As

a child I believed that whale sharks
crisscrossed the ocean following

paths that we couldn’t fathom, that
their concerns were somehow

beyond our comprehension, but then
Keppler pinned down

the shape of the Earth’s orbit over four
hundred years ago,

and the lives of ancient sea
titans are sundered

effortlessly
by men with indifferent faces.
m lang Aug 2023
i’ve been shielding myself endlessly
for an inevitable end— that,
while i knew it was always coming,
eventually,
it doesn’t stop the reality of tomorrow
impaling me, breathless.

on one desperate hand,
i’m begging and wishing
for just one more day.
one more moment before you go.
the other hand holds gratitude.
five years with you was more than i could have ever dreamt.
life went up and down-
and sideways
in every which direction,
but you stood in the middle with me
and we held on to each other.

as the last five years dwindle
through a reel of memories
into our final moments,
i am filled with tears—
pouring from my eyes and from my heart.
love is pouring from my heart.
love for you,
for this lifetime we lived together.

you are my greatest love.
and our love story continues,
even as this chapter is closed.
i wrote this in the early hours of 8/26 and initially wrote tomorrow, and by the time i finished the poem, tomorrow became today- hence the title.
Anais Vionet Jun 2023
Holidays go by quickly, as if they don’t want to hang around. My life seems to be happening at warp speed.

Lisa and I start our two-month summer fellowships tomorrow. It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening. Like most things in my life, this fellowship started as an obligation to my mom - shrouded in vague, emotional shadows - to perform the impossible.

I’d like to become a doctor but it’s no milk run. And while ambition is powerful, it isn’t magic. Yale has advisors to guide us but my mom, who has one Dr. daughter already and a son in med school  believes her every suggestion is sacrosanct. She’s usually right, but still (shrug), I’m here.

My mom did have one good idea - going to France over vacation. Peter got to meet my Grandmère and I got to visit with some of my cousins - those spoiled-rotten, monied members of “the fancy” - who have no ambitions, no goals and no self-worth other than their momentary possessions. By the time Peter and I left, I was itching to get back to work.

You only get one chance at life and if you’re lucky you’re good at something. Think of all the people who were born in the desert - who would have been the greatest swimmers or skiers ever - but never had the chance to try. I’m chanell.

Lisa and I are at my sister Annick’s 10th floor, 4-bedroom apartment, in Boston. I don't think she stays here anymore. She’s engaged, and my bet is that she’s living at his place. At first, she pretended that wasn’t true, that she was just thinking of staying there while Lisa and I are here.

Ok, I thought to myself, but why is everything in the fridge brand new?
“Where’s your cat?” I asked, like a detective reeling in a crook.
“Ok,” Annick admitted with a laugh, “you exposed my dishonesty."

Lisa and I’ll have this apartment to ourselves for two months. It’s a feeling that’s joyful, selfish and marvelous. We can see the hospital where Lisa and I will be working from Annick’s balcony - it’s that close. Annick bought this place because she’s a doctor in residence there.

I got in from Paris yesterday. I’m jet lagged and toey about tomorrow. I doubt I’ll get much sleep tonight. Even though I’m making a great display of calm, idle boredom, Annick knows better.
“Are you guys nervous?” She asked.
Lisa immediately declared “Hells, yes!”
I was thinking of holding strong, but after a second, I mumbled “Yeah.”

I’m really hoping I’ll be good at this fellowship business.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Sacrosanct: “sacred or holy”

slang…
the fancy = the very idle rich
chanell = lucky
toey = nervous, edgy
miki May 2023
my sister walked in the door
a grim face and no words
i’ve never seen her like this before
she sat beside me, dragging her feet on the cold linoleum the entire way,
three cushions down
and stared blankly at the tv
“i’m really tired”
she says she only got an hour of sleep
i didn’t know what to say
i had seen the news

i could feel the sadness
it poured out of her and sept into anything in its path
i can feel my heart slowly breaking
i don’t think she noticed
she lays down with a blanket
and closes her eyes
she’s not sleeping, but i didn’t know how to help
i had seen the news

i told her
go sleep in my room
go get a snack
go home for a while
but she never listens to me
i just wanted her to be okay
i didn’t really expect this time to be different, after all
i had seen the news

she didn’t sleep
she didn’t eat
she didn’t go home
she just lay there
in silence
for hours
i kept thinking about the news

i worried all day for her
and when she finally went home that night
i still worried for her
i cried for hours
all i wanted was to help her
i didn’t know how to help her
all i knew is that
i had seen the news
Andy Chunn Nov 2022
“She toddled in the mighty Duck
And almost never was”
Whether by design or luck
Or maybe just because

Summertime in Tennessee
So scorching hot and dry
The family thought a swim could be
Relief so we would try

While swimming came so easy
For most of us that day
But Mom was water queasy
So on the bank she lay

My friend and I, we swam like fish
In the deep Duck River
A day that would make you wish
This fun could last forever

My baby sister was so small
She could barely walk
She toddled and then down would fall
And jabbered with her talk

So Dad had moved into the deep
That’s when I saw it well
My sister ran without a peep
Into the Duck she fell

Momma screamed and I just froze
And out of sight she went
The muddy Duck would now propose
Another life be spent

My Dad had sprung to action
On hearing of the scream
He dived as a reaction
Into the muddy stream
.
.
.
And many years would pass us by
She studied hard and long
Nothing was too tough to try
She never got it wrong

A Ph.D and drug design
She makes the pills you need
If you were really in a bind
And needed meds indeed

She plays piano and reads the books
And knows so much inside
She sews and cleans and then she cooks
With logic as her guide

Accomplishments on every level
Complete and tried and true
But humble, never would she revel
In all that she could do
.
.
.

He came back up and looked around
His eyes began to beg
He dived again and there he found
And grabbed her by the leg

Upside down he pulled her up
And water did pour out
And soon we heard her cry startup
Relief without a doubt
.
.
.

Remembering that day and so
A blessing to repay
That was sixty years ago
But feels like yesterday

I sometimes think of all the luck
That happened just because
“She toddled in the mighty Duck
And almost never was”
Gem Palomar Jul 2022
You don't know how much
I am willing to surrender
just to give you even an ounce
of hope
and sunshine that I have

I can't wait to see you
genuinely happy,
in solitude,
in the company of others,
in the mundane

My tuahine, I love you.
I do not know how to tell you,
but your existence
makes my world
a little more bearable
Tuahine means sister in Māori
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