*****,
Is not a word
That I've heard in a while —
I used to hear it all the time
As a child;
I was spunky,
A spunkster,
Spunkalicious!
And all these terms of endearment
Made me feel warm inside.
It was only later, much later,
When I was more mature
That I discovered what the term really meant…
Which made me rethink all those childhood memories in a new light —

I am my best friend.
I will never trust another over me again.
After the long nights
and early mornings
and long trials of back-and-forth-ing,
I have studied myself and can promise one thing:
I know me more than you do.

So if you ever begin to think
I am missing something big
come and slip a note to me -
criticism is welcome, but I will choose what I take and leave.

I have my back
I hold the line
I trust my truth and have a spine
I'll defend my reputation against those friends
who weren't friends at all, in the end.

I'd rather be "alone" than have to pretend.
I'd rather be my own best friend.

Dear Dad,

I always tried to understand
Why you felt like no one held your hand

I tried to know why **** and alcohol
Became your refuge, your silent wall
And why the world seemed to scare you
so I guess I never knew what you were going through

I really tried and tried to see inside
But some things you decided to hide
Maybe life was just too hard
For your already broken heart

There were bright days, and there were dark
But your eyes always missed their spark
I asked you if you were oke
And you said: "Hapiness never wanted to stay"

I was in there (the bath)
<AGAIN>
Minding my business
Wrangling words that waned
When slip,
A lapse of judgment (confusion)
The phone dipped
Into the water —
Fast thinking,
Reactive reflexes retrieved
The potential bath bomb,
A few quick blows
And phew…
The phone is just as it came.
Just cleaner!

I was a late bloomer
To coffee, introduced via
The slow progression
From hot chocolate,
Advancement to a latte with two;
Latte with one,
Then a flat white!

Each transition marked a significant life succession;
Graduation from High School,
The first time I kissed a girl,
Waking up from the coma,
My first house purchase —

(Not that I was aware of the deeper meaning at the time)

Coffee became my driving force; searching out new experiences, cafes around the country and overseas —

Each time I held a cup
In my hand,
I was holding myself —
And my dreams, grand
Some spoken, many not
Even dared.

The thirst became a daily ritual,
Transforming my inner reflective space
As I too matured,
Softened, shaped by life and grace.