And the drunken fair skinned girls
May as well have arrived on ships
With absinthe and fireworks
because I can't remember the last Time
Christmas came early.
Only in the season of Solace
December descends

I knock on the door, shaking.
They answer, tell me to come in.
"I am not my self" I say.
"That's okay" they say.
I hesitate, brace for impact.
"Its okay" they say.
I stumble, asking for forgiveness.
"For what?" they say.
"For everything"

The past four years have been a triumph of self loathing, of learning to apologize while regretting saying sorry.  I have felt I am not even a person without a bottle or a pill. I do not know where my story began, and where I wish it ended. But I am slowly learning to be okay, to accept myself, I think that is why it has taken me such a long time to write.

The thing is, I don't know who I am, I have been a couple different souls: some are weak, some are strong, some are as passive as ocean sand.

I'm 22, female, and lost.  

I have contemplated death many times, I've attempted it even more.  If you are still reading I applaud you.  Bless your soul.

Sincerely,
Still alive

Mnemonic...

Over my mug of steaming coffee,
...i see cookies and a fruit...sliced,
to freshen my breath after my coffee break....

one glance...

one unexpected glance, took me back... to
when i decided to do something for myself,
to be happy.....and to be somebody....but,
finally....i fought the desire, to be defiant...
those awakenings, and newfound feelings,
still haunt my evenings...the hurting, somewhat
changed me, and my beliefs.......i realized that,

at some point in one's life, a chance moment
unfolds on a landing...clear to the eyes...on a mission,
to change attitudes...to erase wrong impressions,
triggered by unpleasant experiences....i have also
discovered....at the right time, somebody comes,
......like an angel with hidden wings...to soften
our hardened minds....to melt our frozen hearts,
ease our tensed opinions...offer us a healing balm.
sometimes, a place, or a face, becomes a kind of paper
that can't be crumpled, or destroyed...so hard to forget.
anyone...anything, that strikes the heart hard,
easily comes back, with the slightest reminder,
catches you..........unprepared....

this fruit on the table, in silence, it just sits there,
...unaware of its being mnemonic...doesn't matter,
if it's fresh, rotten, or candied...a plum, apple or pear
....................would prompt me, to remember,
over my mug of steaming coffee...


Sally


Copyright July 27, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan