A bridge can Collapse any day.
A Mountain can Collide any day.
A Bridge can be amended.
A mountain you Can reclimb.
A Bridge you can hide under Any day.
A mountain You can hide in any day.
You can choose to hide or you can face it head-on.

This goes to Grace Eagan.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Pictures are beautiful,
And so are you.

Orchids are white,
Ghost ones are rare,
Mirrors are shiny,
And so is your hair.

Magnolia grows,
With buds like eggs,
Skins are tanned,
And so are your legs.

Sunflowers reach,
Up to the skies,
Your sun is bright,
And so are your eyes.

Foxgloves in hedges,
Surround the farms,
My embrace is welcoming,
And so are your arms.

Daisies are pretty,
Lilys  have style,
Your feeling is strong,
And so is your smile.

The Rain is beautiful,
Just like you

You DON'T deserve a second chance
Your can't undo what's been done
You stole my things that are irreplaceable & were special to me
You have broken the trust
You cant undo it not this time
Even though your my daughter
I have to walk away
I am hurting
I can't figure out why
After all my pain in my life
You choose to hurt me
You broke my trust
I can't replace those
sadly you knew
and did it anyway
So with that
Your on your own
Broken trust
© Jennifer L DeLong 10/29/2020

You told me you loved me but I broke anyway
You told me you loved me but the middle fell out and I splintered on the rocks below
You told me you loved me but it's so hard to believe when you say nothing and I have nothing to trust but the voices in my head telling me that you're disappointed, that I annoy you, that you miss her, that I am not what you want.
How do I trust you when I am always ******* up. How do I trust you when I always push you away, or you push yourself off the cliff and don't look back as you fall fall, fall down and leave me behind, alone and cold and empty as always. Empty but full of empty thoughts, empty drawers of you and you and more and you, empty as you fall
How do I trust you when I can't trust myself to make you love me?
How do I trust you when I can't tell if you love me or my warmth, my voice or the comfort my words used to bring, my laugh or its validation, my body or the space it takes up next to you. Sometimes when the sky falls and your eyes turn from brown to black and I wish I could see your face and hear your rhythmic breathing, I miss your body and your scent and your voice, and I remember that you don't miss me.

if i see myself in you
do you have that same streak
that leads me astray
or is my paranoia only punishment
for my back door deeds

2/15/20

You’re everything that I need,
But are you all that I need?
I question if I even trust you anymore…
Oh Lord! I’ve been here before.

So I’m back where nothing’s new,
Reflecting on how much I believe You.
Last time I argued – put up resistance.
Yet You don’t punish my insolence.

I can be confused and frustrated with You,
So You have to be real and true.
You are not able to be defined,
So you must not be my own design.

God, You engineered my systems,
To pump life through me like pistons.
And I stand before You shaking my fists,
When You control whether my body exists.

But You love me! You tolerate my witlessness.
And I respond – as if taking my first steps –
With downhearted repentance. Lord, I’m sorry,
Without Your blessings, I’d be left in sorrow.

If I saw you again, I wouldn’t care about things that were so petty, like whose plates and cutlery lay idle in the sink...who didn’t take out the *******...who forgot to water the plants, or who forgot to do this or that.

The only sounds I hear now are our splintered voices down the phone. Every night. They grow. They break. They hover, they drift ever-so, and they try to fade. But somehow, they are always there. Lingering. Over and over again.

And as I look out at the morning’s rusty dream of dawn, a thin film of moisture condensing on the windscreen, I pause.

It isn’t the first time I’ve tried to take a film noir journey through my subconscious.

It isn’t the first time I’ve tried to pull moments and memories together to make some utter sense of what’s happening. My thoughts seem to always unravel themselves. And I struggle with them. They don’t effortlessly slot together anymore.

I often think to myself: isn't it funny how our impression of time changes? God, reflecting back on a fading memory now seems livelier than life itself.

Now I sit here, thinking all these sad and strange thoughts – that everything – time, work, effort, money, affection – are moments that will, one day, crumble and fade – that they won’t be there forever in the physical world.

Because everything we had once cherished with such love, I still remember. Still.