Ayeglasses Nov 2012

An explosion of passion resembling a time and a window,
a time when the shards of myself still existed,
not made anew, but being replaced.

The shards would shatter at touch,
preventing salvage, yet welcoming it as well,
Beginning again was a new window, a new place,
much more sightly than the shrouding smoke that once hovered.

Due time, reason and rhyme became subtle as I repaired
Reason was the person I was,
Rhyme was the shards.

"we continued our games and make believe stories and waited for mother to be hap"
olivia grace 

we were just small children so we didn’t quite understand what father meant when he said

“mother is sad”

we continued our games and make believe stories and waited for mother to be happy

and when we were young, sad just meant someone stepped on your picture

or they ruined your sand castle


and in 2 seconds it was over

the deeper I fall into my depression I find my mother
I find her ghouls and her ghosts
her corpses

I find her dark eyes in my dark eyes every time I look in the mirror
and I find her hatred for everything, including me

I find new ways to torture myself
my mother

“you have your mothers eyes”


we also have the same disease

the only difference is, her demons won
mine don’t stand a chance

"She could scarcely believe that a year"
Melody W 

She could scarcely believe that a year
had passed, spent in stagnant mire
garnished with forgotten breaths

The flimsy laminated menu
detailing sophisticated cuisine
promised escape, escape!

“Escargot“ enticed, whispered
coyly of a fragrant symphony
certain to yield only satisfaction

She assessed the china dish before her,
lifted tiny garish spoon to take in
tenderness afloat in rich garlic pools -

And could only picture the quiet garden
where innocence was never questioned…
and snails knew not the essence of salt

©MW
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