There's no silver linings
No light at the end of the road
And I've been searching
...all on my own

The trees are losing thier leaves
Much like I am losing my hair
And the grass is growing it's weeds
And I'm seeing things that aren't there

Its these chemicals balanaced in my mind
That prompts me to find
Such sad little beings
Who love and live
As thoughts in my mind

I'm seeing faces in the shadows
Love in darkness
And happiness with the smoke in my lungs

And I'm done

So done with this constant ache
This soreness in my head
This brutal awakening
That I am dead

Not physically so because I still breathe
But inside of me, I bleed

I look in the mirror
And hate what I see
"Well change yourself!"
But that isn't me

And now I'm slumped on the couch
Listening to slow songs
Watching the room spin
Out of control

Wishing these thoughts weren't there

My first love was the moon.

In my darkest hours, he bled through my curtains.
He was quiet, never really having to say anything,
only gently bathing me in his light.

He replaced my tears with stars,
arranging them in constellations that told of our future,
proving to me I'd live long enough to even have a future.

Even when I refused to let him in,
even as I'd shut my windows and bundle under the covers,
I'd peek outside after some time and he'd still be there,
Night after night.
Waiting.
Patient.
Forgiving.
Loving.

Perhaps I had taken my moon for granted.
Perhaps one wasn't designed to wait forever.
Perhaps a moon can only share its light for so long.

Tonight I open my windows,
and for the first time,
the night has never been darker.

I Don't Like Guns...But

they make my husband feel
like a man and help him bond
with our sons.  

I don't like them or how he
describes the way they feel in
his hand:  "Better than a ***",  
I heard him confide to his pal, Joey...

but something has to protect  us.  
I mean it's our right to be on guard.  
It's our right.

My husband spends all his
time with his guns:  cleaning them,
polishing the barrels, studying their
details.  And talking...talking about
his gun rights, about his next NRA
meeting or  what happened at the
last or that he can't believe how
good the right gun in his hand feels.  

I don't like guns...they made me                   disappear.


Written for GUNS DON'T SAVE PEOPLE POETS DO:  DUELING WITH WORDS TO STOP GUN VIOLENCE. ..a Facebook group