We met standing in line at a store
To pay for our groceries and such.
I happened we both reached
At the same time and touched.
We set to talking about things
Like Jung and synchronicity.
We easily continued our talking
About quirks and idiosyncrasies.

He asked questions about me
And seemed suitably charmed.
I answered them thoughtlessly.
I was precisely that disarmed.
He never took his eyes off me
Staring into my eyes, polite.
It felt not only delightful and warm,
It felt perfectly, comfortably right.

I found myself catching my breath;
Was he possibly flirting with me?
I knew just how this usually went
And how disappointing it could be.
I cautioned myself not to jump;
Conclusions can be dangerously high.
What if he is just a nice fellow;
A polite and wildly handsome guy.

So, I continued in the same vein.
I asked questions of his life.
I wanted him to get it over with
And tell me all about his wife.
But he responded with wonderful stuff
About his hobby rappelling rocks.
Then he did something unexpected
That shocked me down to my socks.

He reached over, put his hand on mine
And asked me if I were promised;
Did I have some other guy in my life.
Suddenly, no longer Doubting Thomas
I told him I was single and free as a bird
He squeezed my hand and smiled
He turned my hand over and asked me
If we could go for a ride for a while.

I will cease this tiny story right here
Because the rest of the tale was hot
And while I had the fun of those days
You either had your own or not.
But let it suffice to say to you here
He make this guy deliriously glad
For the love, the heat and the memories
Like I had never before had.

All I wanted
Was an I love you.
That didn’t sound like an apology.

Make love like an apology.
Shop for groceries like an apology
Hold me, like an apology
Eat your dinner,
Like an apology
Watch TV, like an apology
Take a shower, like an apology
Brush your teeth, like an apology

Fall asleep,
Dream of a life where you don’t have to feel so lonely.
When you say I love you
I say I’m sorry
I wanted a love that felt like celebration.
All you knew how to do
Was feel guilty,
For not wanting me anymore,
But refusing to go.

An elaborate disguise
And the wink of an eye
A whip to be cracked
Some groceries to be stacked

I'll do your bidding
And laugh when you're kidding
I'll be there when you need
Off me you can feed

Please don't hide from me
You can trust me you'll see
I will trust in your guidance
For you encompass my requirements

I have limits like most
As do you, you boast
We're a perfect match my darling
Even in the morning whenst starts the gargling

I remember as a kid,
I would have to walk everywhere i went
because my mom didn't have a car.
I didn't care though
because i didn't know how much
easier it could be to just drive.

Or on my 5th birthday all i got
was some underwear
because my mom couldn't afford anything else
and she knew i needed them.
I didn't care though
because i didn't know that a normal kid
was supposed to get a bunch of cool toys.

Or when every single one of my shoes
had holes in the bottom
because my mom didn't have money
to buy me knew ones.
I didn't care though
because i just thought I was supposed to wear them
till I couldn't anymore.

Or when I had to wait until soup kitchen days to eat
because my mom couldn't afford
groceries for the week.
I didn't care though
because i thought they made the best food.

And I remember as a kid,
Growing up without a dad
and not understanding why.
It didn't bother me though,
Because I thought my mom was all i needed.

It's funny how time changes things.
12 years having a step-father and being blessed beyond belief.
But now i look at myself...
How i'm too lazy,
to walk a few blocks anymore.
Or too greedy,
to accept some birthday ****** anymore.
Or too trendy,
to wear my shoes to the grave anymore.
Or too picky,
to eat the soup kitchen specials anymore.
Or too selfish,
To tell my mom I love her anymore.

I lost my simple mind.
Trying to fit in by being however
normal non-impoverished kids would be
But then i lost myself,

And forgot...

Who i remembered.

If you have it all......
Remember, you could lose it all....

If you think you have your **** together....
It could easily wither away....

To learn to be happy.....
You first must be sad to know the real meaning....

Is heartache really about Love or selfishness....

Heartache goes away,
but selfishness does not...

When does one change their ways.....
When does one accept reality.....

When does one quite putting them self first.....

I have learned in life the more I help others....
The easier things come to me in life....

Have you ever bought a hungry family groceries...
Have you ever put gas in a persons car who has no money.....
Have you ever tried to guide our youth.....
Have you ever actually helped the homeless.....
Have you ever let someone cry on your shoulder....

Life is not about one,
It's about many.....

It's been raining for over an hour now. The lightening is so potent and bright that I cringe in fear of it cracking my skull when it strikes.
Drops are hitting the top of this tin roof, and the sound breaks through my room with such a gust that it drowns out the music of it's thunder.
I'm caught up thinking about you again, like that's any surprise to me or my wretched head.
I paint sweet moments in my mind of how we could have been.
I imagine the day you'd meet my father, shake hands with my uncle, compliment my grandmother on the Sunday roast.
It frightens me that I can see you in my future; buying our groceries, washing our clothes, changing our lightbulb.
The heart grows fonder when in a state of longing, that much I know is true, and there isn't a doubt in my mind that my every bone longs for you.

Sometimes,
I think my conversations with You
pick up
when I put down the pen.
Other times,
I think You only communicate
through spitballs and passed notes.
I squiggle tick boxes
on college ruled lines to check
“yes” or “no,”
but You always end up eating the answer
when the Teacher is in ear shot because
sound carries faster than my sideway glances.
You say Your notes
are too loud for me to copy off of,
but I still can’t hear Your message
when we’re playing telephone at recess.
You avoided me on
the playground in grade school,
the hallways in junior high and
the cafeteria in high school,
so You can imagine my shock
when You asked to move into a one bedroom
with me in a concrete jungle gym
several miles away after graduation.
I have a four-year lease for this new place of mine
and You used to have a tendency to not stick around
when I needed You there the most,
but here You are now,
waiting patiently on the couch
holding two cups of coffee every morning
and two cups of wine every night.
You have left me with questions
that my tuition can’t cover and
that rent can’t afford,
so please understand that when I kick You out,
it’s not because You ate my groceries
or didn’t clean the bathroom;
it’s because the mess You made
for my parents to clean up
was too big to incorporate
in the chore list I left behind
when I used to live in blanket forts.
This is all hindsight,
but my vision gets checked annually
and optometrists say I’m going to be blind by thirty
if I keep wearing my contacts
during Marco Polo.
I keep telling them it’s impossible
to match where the sound
of Your voice is coming from,
so I keep my eyes shut
and my arms stretched out wide before me
to feel for Your presence.
They say that
keeping my eyes closed for too long isn’t safe
and that I should invest in glasses,
but my insurance doesn’t cover
another lens between Us
and I can’t afford to be separated
from You any longer.
Maybe someday,
You will gargle up all those
chewed up love notes
and questions
and I’ll find them below my tax returns.
Maybe someday,
You will pay me back
with more
than just a book fine.
Maybe someday,
I won’t need your change
to feel like
I’m worth something.
But, for now, I wait patiently,
writing with a pen
that ran out of ink
since the day You gave me hope
with a hushed
*“maybe.”

I’ll mimic Matterhorn or the worn ways we window gaze and swipe left
or turn right on the green light of another cliche
If you swear gray is all the shades you’ll
put on lamps to match the grayscale duvet
Then catch me if you cat o’ nine tails
a swallowed whale,
We swear with chapped lips a waterworn promise
Maybe the Amish had it right and we’re a little bit snobbish.
I’ll Jack O’Lantern your etch-a-sketch erotica,
Not much scarier, these days, trick or treat.
Q-tips got your tongue? I’ll Question where you Came From 4 as long i Chan.
You don’t leave the house anymore except for groceries.
Catch me if you cat o’ nine tails
a swallowed whale,
Nineveh won’t wait, it’s time to break bread with danger and death.

Sick and tired
Of being good at looking fine
Where should my heavy head go when I cry?
Not on a shoulder
You're not showing the signs

How odd that it is that
When you talk about your's
And I talk about mine
We're speaking in differing tongues, and times
Mine is far back down the line

Where is my circle of sobbing friends?
My pats on the back,
Or someone other than my mother
To keep me on track
Someone other than a figure
Glasses, sweater
That can trigger progression
Without stripping my family
Of groceries for the week

Where is the understanding
That I was indeed in love
To the point where I panicked
Flew a line
Blew my sanity
And ran it all the way back to what
I must be and remain
Just an awkward, sophomore
Scatterbrain.

i miss pretending to be older than i was, by carrying some of the groceries,
wearing red lipstick i wouldn't go near today, nail polish to match.

now i want to pretend it is three/fourths of this lifetime of mine ago.
i want to cry and sleep and play and whine and get piggy back rides, and get paint all over.
i want tattoos i can wash off, but never would. i want bedtime stories i never heard the end of, excuses to stay up late, not responsibilities that leave me no other choice.

nap time, snack time, play dates, mary-kate and ashley movies, on the big screen.

hugs everyday from my mom, my dad, from everyone i see!
kisses every night, from all of the above.

wagons with fans and cool headbands.
songs with kazoos and afternoons with "Blue"
a shoe a shoe, NO a clue a clue.

collecting rocks and getting married under monkey bars.
I want to wake up and have to Figure it Out.

i would like to dream , and be, and still have the anticipation of this.

When Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs,
  he forgot the copperheads and the assassin...
  in the dust, in the cool tombs.

And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street,
  cash and collateral turned ashes...
  in the dust, in the cool tombs.

Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw
  in November or a pawpaw in May, did she wonder? does she remember?...
  in the dust, in the cool tombs?

Take any streetful of people buying clothes and groceries,
  cheering a hero or throwing confetti and blowing tin horns...
  tell me if the lovers are losers...
  tell me if any get more than the lovers...
  in the dust...
  in the cool tombs.

every day is a scar’s birthday*.  this is how I am able to start most of your sentences.  I praise your god, you worry, and worry keeps him from finding out.  on the day you started talking the rooms were horrified.  the termites fled your blood.  a cold stone appeared outside beside a stick.  the home’s most loved dog died without spatial awareness.  your mother began to compose a series of poems by Franz Wright.  for inspiration she put her hands in the dog and in doing so dropped a sack of black groceries.  a thing that changed over time rolled into your father’s mouth.

AQUA PLS GRENAD EP 2.49
SALADE NEPT RP 7.24 FP
**TPS 5% #122235922
TVQ 8.5
ARGENT 20.00
NOMBRE D’ARTICLES : 2
Vous auriez pu accumuler 110 points PC

2011/04/10 13:32 8341 02
GAGNEZ JUSQUA 2000 AU

Harris Teeter was our concrete niche.
We called it Harry *****, and I would visit you there
your last summer at home.

You were a bag boy;
sometimes you corralled green carts,
pushing them in rows in the rain.

On our first date
you tied a leaky balloon to my wrist
to follow my route above the aisles.

And while your greasy, bespectacled boss
listened to customers' complaints about
rotten pears, lost receipts, expired coupons,

you found my bobbing balloon
and snuck me into the carpeted break room–
coffee-stained, fluorescent-lit dinginess.

All I could think about was my wagon
full of groceries, abandoned in the store.
But then you whispered, dimpled,

that this was what made work worthwhile,
and I thought of nothing but your honey lips
and arms that fit me like a worn sweater.

In the minutes it took my blue balloon
to drain its helium and graze the ground,
wrinkled and stretch-marked and fetal-curled,

we strolled the aisles and ate free dragon cookies,
arguing creamy vs. crunchy, fresh vs. frozen.
Our fingers pointed to the makings of our favorite meals.

You re-donned your cherry apron
and piled my cart with bags irrelevant,
while your boss remained as naive as I.

From the subtle strokes
of a solemn wrist.
I can see so much
of her on this page.

It could be sadness,
or laughter.
Love sonnets,
or groceries.

Like her eyes,
I get lost
in the flow
of her lines.

❦

Often I sit cross legged
And move my ****** issues
As best I can into my brain
Where I can think about them
And then not think about them
By using some minor will
To hold them back
Right now in fact, I'm sitting
Cross legged in the backseat
Of a car with a busted tail light
Mary jane in the glove box
Backseat also full of groceries
So I adjust frequently, scowl
As I eat food
Licking my fingers after I
Eat octopus flavored snacks
I reach into the bag again
Noticing denim fibers stuck
Like cat hair on my hands from
When I wiped them on my pants
And that's kinda gross
So I stop
My back starts hurting

I watched a woman dying
On the street;
She had a smile on her face
As she had just come
With a great howl
As the bus hit her
Amidships,
Spilling her Marks & Spencer's bag
Full of stolen groceries
As well as her guts
And her birth certificate
Which showed she was actually born male.
We all have our little secrets
You never know what's in a lady's *******
Until you go there to explore.
So you can ******* now.

Let's walk down the cobbled road in the rain
We'll come back with pastries and some new books
Let's visit that old castle once again
The boxer boy graffiti's still there, look
The DART dashes on to the city streets
As we bring groceries back to the rise
In a misty garden, there's birds to meet
We set the table under still bright skies
After a plane trip over the east sea
We're finally in Éire with dad's fam'ly

Tonight I stayed at work until 7:00.
It was dark when I locked the front doors.
Winter approaches again, soon the great coat
huddled like a rug around me. The streets
were active as usual, block residents
hanging out front steps. I said goodnight
to Nydian Figueroa, after school counselor.
I bought a beer at the deli on Third Ave.
from the Arab owner. He’s a bit upset about
the bottle bill.
                          Collecting bottles from small groceries
could be a useful youth employment enterprise.
I walked down Fifth along the park in the dark
drinking my beer and looking at women. I need
a good **** badly. I tried to decide whether
to go to the movies, a Hopi film Howard recommended,
or just go home, watch tv and light a candle.
Maybe I’d meet someone at the film.
                                                                  Can I handle
the malady of going home tonight? If I die,
I die alone.
                      I turned west toward the subway
past the museum, through the park.
I can’t look at the myriad lights in buildings
large enough to hold a small town. It increases
my anxiety and anonymity to the breaking point.
I hoped to be mugged, for the human contact.
Two big guys looked me over, but I lowered
my center of gravity and they passed quietly. Survival
feels fine, proves I am alive.
                                                   The white pines
in this corner of the park hold a cool, earthy air
reminding me of coming winter, that mortality is
restful, of the black bear and swollen river I saw
500 miles away and only one day ago.

He was working the register at Save-a-Lot foods

The line slowly building towards the end of the store

I saw it

In the veins that stood out on the tip of his nose

In his white hair pushed back despite the receding hair line

In the sag of his lower lip

Making his jowls jiggle as he turned his head

I saw how his lower lip longed for the chewing tobacco it used to hold

I stood in line holding a cart full of lonely

And I wanted to tell him

“You look like the kind of man who’s only ever made daughters

And your hands

Are too calloused

for taking money

and bagging groceries

I know you

How the top of your gut is tight from the hunger

Of not having eaten yet

You were never meant for this

Man

You were never meant to work like this

Humbled by the heartache caused by a dime

We got the same change clangin’ in our pockets

Got the same sorrow

For not having made enough people happy

I know the minute the beer is full someone will take more

And the minute you sit down

And rub your calloused fingertips across your eyes

The phone will ring

Man

I know it wasn’t your fault

When the lady got mad that the prices were wrong

The prices are always wrong

I know

You’ve been here too long

We both

have been here too long

When my hair is grey

Today’s change will still ring off the countertops

And I'm sorry

For everything”

But I didn’t say any of that

I said

Hi

I did not use his name

Because I know how condescending it really sounds to do that

It was Patrick by the way

I gave him a twenty

He gave me a penny

It clanged in my pocket like the last bell on a broken wind chime

And then I said

Thanks Man

And left

you could surely drown
in all the lies you've told
if the ***** don't sink you first
you'll be the  only one to burn
when your lighter flickers a flame too hot
you can't pay the bills or groceries
but you're willing to pay the price
for clinging to a man that was never yours
this is the role model you've become
I don't want to be just like my mommy anymore

-a.f.

The wind was picking up

as she led them from the store

They'd bought all of their groceries,

They had no room for more

Young Willa and her sisters three

Looked over their short list

They had to check and check again

To see just what they'd missed

Willa led them home

Before the hail and rain came down

They would batten down the hatches

Before the storm battered the town

Her father was out working

And would not be home in time

To see that they were all in safe

To most, that was a crime

But, Willa took the girls inside

And kept them safe and warm

She made them all hot chocolate

To distract them from the storm

See, Willa was fourteen years old

A child too you see

But to her sisters, she had another role

That's not yet plain to see

Their mother left five years back

To find a better life

She was a failure as a mother

And was useless as a wife

So Willa stepped on up

And she took care of the young brood

While her father worked in Lansing

Making money for their food

Her friends did things without her

She was always taking care

Of her sisters and the household

For her mother wasn't there

She sacrificed her chldhood

While her friends went out with boys

She stayed home with her stisters

Doing homework,  making toys

There wasn't enough money

To buy toys for them all

But Willa made them something each

Something special, every fall

Her father tried as best he could

To get work close to town

But, there was no work out there

Since the Auto Plant closed down

So, Willa kept on working

As a mother to the girls

She would cook and do the cleaning

She would help with Lisa's curls

Her father knew her sacrifice

Was more than he could ask

But Willa, never shrugged it off

She was equal to the task

She knew that her poor father

Would never find another bride

For who would want a husband

With four children at his side?

So Willa, kept on working

And she put her dreams behind

And to childhoods joys and treasures

She pretended to be blind

Her sisters knew that Willa

was the rock that held them strong

And they did what Willa asked them

Whether right or whether wrong

Willa's friends moved on with out her

Some to college, some to work

But, this role that she had taken on

She'd never ever shirk

On Willa's eighteenth birthday

Her sisters gave her gifts

Some presents she would treasure

They would give her heart a lift

Her youngest sister Lisa

Gave her a brown teddy bear

It was old and slightly tattered

And it didn't have much hair

Willa held that Teddy Bear

For now it was her own

Lisa said "you love it"

"It's yours , now I have grown"

The second gift from sister Lee

Was a barbie with one eye

That didn't really open

And this made poor Willa cry

She gave this doll to lee when

She'd fallen down out back

She had got twenty stitches

And these were draen on the dolls leg

The next gift that she opened

From her her sister Kate

A small red book of poems

That her sister thought were great

The book was bound in leather

And it locked with a small hook

But it never really closed quite right

For the hook just never took

The final gift was from her Dad

In the box, a scarlett bow

And a note that said "I Love You"

"I just wanted you to know"

"I'm proud of the young woman"

"That you've grown into  alone"

"And I'm proud of how you've taken"

"And made this house a home"

Willa cried and took her presents

To her room, put them away

For today was almost over

Tomorrow was another day

She gathered up her sisters

And she ushered them to bed

For tomorrow's still tomorrow

That's what Willa always said

The day had been quite special

Made her forget all her strife

But tomorrow's still tomorrow

And we still must live our life.

I don't know where they are now

Or just where they do reside

But I do know that our Willa

Is one stronger than the tide

I'm sure that they are happy

And are proud from where they've come

Because of how poor Willa

Became their sister and their Mum.
.

where do old people go to find ***? their sagging wrinkling barnacled skin easily torn or bruised thinning wispy hair dry tongues raspy voices gray teeth wobbly legs malformed brittle spines rickety stance shaky hands misshapen arthritic fingers foul stale odors itchy scratchy orifices ***** stained underwear where do old people go to find ***? their vanishing generation locked away in reclusive lonely dusty rooms creaky dim apartments when i was young i thought old people were unburdened of lust no longer bound by libido urges somehow grown free of base desires needs this constant horniness i suffer where do old people go to find *** is it wrong to politely ask or beg a younger person indecent to plead for a little charity where do old people go to find ***?

there is a wooded area outside Paris where some couples drive and park man behind the wheel woman in passenger seat her window down clothed anonymous men approach with exposed penises in hand staring at woman’s fingers massaging between her thighs spread as she watches the men stroke themselves sometimes she kisses licks even ***** these strangers' erections the driver sits composed empowered sharing his companion amused aroused admiring her lasciviousness oh the French they are so ****** with their stinky cheeses pate de foie gras rich sauces refined wines briny scented ***** tresses seductive lingerie licentious literature DeSade Zola Rimbaud Foucault Derrida Deleuze Deneuve Belmondo Goddard Truffaut Depardieu

the oppression of money in every gulp of air we breathe all the secret arrangements sick crooked associations complicated deceitful ***** deals the great divide between gated community and ghetto slum how can we feel proud knowing our insatiable self-absorbed hunger greed oil carried in ocean channels spreading evaporating into atmosphere air rain groundwater rivers lakes vegetation animals us poisoning killing off everything the oppression of money i hang my head

the oppression of time memory longing for that which we once knew felt i remember running into a very **** pretty girl whom i had not seen in a year carrying bag of groceries in her arms on street asking why didn’t i call her back she repeated why didn’t you call me back wide smile tempting eyes ***** blond hair dark roots enticing bush exquisite floppy lips lanky cowgirl physique narrow hips i did not know what to say said nothing simply stood there looking with sad eyes at her i remember several different girls hinting to take them more seriously i thought to reveal i am too weird tainted ****** up do not want to ruin your life each one of you with my wounded heart troubled thoughts twisted feelings searching stumbling soul my uncertainty do not know what to say said nothing just stood there looking in stupid silence the oppression of time memory longing for that which we once knew felt where do old people go to find ***?

dance with me lift your spirit listen to your heartbeat rhythm of your breath lift arms roll shoulders flutter fingers loosen hips wag **** bend knees tap toes make animal sounds pretend we are young with time to waste whirl around until you feel dizzy forget gravity imagine bliss dance with me

in the city where they rise now,
weeds waist high in summer times,
aglitter under with still-luxuriant diamonds
when the sun shines just so,
even in winter
before lost under snow

all that's left of the window
from which a sweet Juliet surveyed prospects
playing touch football below in the street,
pausing gridiron glories for passing cars
or ladies with bags of groceries in arm

the broken tooth of the block,
just a lot, brick and rock
packed hard
under metal treads of reaping machines,
attracting a profane collection
of neighbors’ wind-blown refuse
to which none will lay claim today

the lovely vanished,
as if her gaze west as sun set
finally pulled her away through clear panes,
one life rejected limited, mundane
and left lifeless a cradle to crumble

none here remember her
every face changed, new as the years
or aged by insults of time and moved on -
nor she the stoop, once so sturdy and safe;
an ancient sycamore's welcome embrace,
cool every August,
would last forever
to the innocent mind of a child

and the woman forgot the crack
in the cemented back yard
where ants lived -
a girl once stared for hours
as they harvested
a crust of sandwich
hidden from the raucous street,
the heat of the sun,

which she decided to follow to its glorious end,
leaving behind a field fallow
where ants,
oblivious to a world that had changed,
fend, still, for a meal
in their broken concrete

America
Land of the free
Home of the brave
but don’t forget the clinically insane
because they’re here too
Making different people black and blue
especially the ones of a different race
What is freedom if it comes with a price
the price of too many lives
lives cut short by the bitter bite of a bullet
piercing through years
resulting in more fears
causing more tears
tears of families
and friends
watching their loved ones life come to an end
thats not even the worst
no justice is being served
to those who got the last word
words shooting from a gun
words denied in court
inequity for those whose lives were cut short
people like Renisha McBride
feel like they now have to hide
from people like Theodore Wafer
who refused to be safer
lack of understanding that Renisha was hurt
and she wanted help
but you ended her life with a yelp
as she knocked on your door
she had no idea she wouldn’t live anymore
gun to her face
you sent a message out to her race
that she went to seek help in the wrong place
telling those like her they don’t belong
in the human race
sadly is isn’t the only case
Jordan Davis
who was not even on a first name basis
with
Michael Dunn
shot nine times
even though he had committed any crimes
nine
times
Trayvon Martin
whose life ended
at the end of a gun
in the hands of the one
who took the “law” onto himself
obvious patterns show
this was no accident
although
he was
acquitted
and he got his gun back
permitted
information was not told
omitted
Zimmerman got refitted
and Martin shot dead
because something was off in someone else’s head
sent to his dead bed
the truth never said
Zimmerman fled
and how are those like him
suppose to move ahead
guns hiding in every direction
ailing like an infections
running from their own reflection
and I have an objection
because this is not the act of natural selection
and it’s sad people of different color still need specialized
protection
because apparently
pulling out a wallet
justifies being shot
41 times
not
but it does for the NYPD officers
and for a South American immigrant
Amadou Diallo (Jallo)
only 23
died callow
shot by four men
so shallow
4 guns
19 hits
41 shots
Bang
dead
----
How can this country preach
that we not only have freedom
but freedom of speech
but as soon as Bruce opened his mouth
and let the truth come out
and talked about
the truth behind
41 shots
he was “un-American”
he was a “flying ***”
it’s sad
we treat other human beings
as animals
and we claim to be equal
but there are people here who are still evil
and law officers who are deceitful
and last I checked ******
is illegal
and you are allowing upheaval
A mother should not be afraid to sent her son
out to get groceries in fear
that he may never come back
So don’t tell me
America
is equal

I feel stronger than i did last week
even though my body feels broken.

My heart is beating slower than usual
but i can keep running faster than
rain can fall from the clouds.

My eyes can't see as sharp as they used too
but everytime i see your face
it's clearer than the skies on a spring day.

My legs seem to drag each step i take
but when you start to walk towards me
I lift each leg as though it doesn't hurt.

My arms can't lift groceries anymore
but when you wrap your arms around me
they fall unto you without any struggle.

My past is scars inside and out
but when you're around
it doesn't exist.

The scars i see
every morning i wake up
and every night i sleep
with them caressing me.

Never forgotten shall they be.

Replaced with your face
every morning i awake
and every night i sleep with you
caressing me.

Never forgotten shall you be.

i'm not sorry for breaking your heart
i'm not sorry you stayed in your room
and cried
i'm not sorry you went for a drive
and drove
and took drive after drive
until mileage piled high
in the depths of the night
i'm not sorry you felt that way
about me
and how you disrespect me
i'm not sorry you feel so much anger
and animosity in your heart
you should have known from the start
who i am
how was i supposed to explain to you
what i'd do
when i didn't even know
myself
i'm not sorry you never knew me
and took out the time
or the trash
or bought groceries
i'm not sorry you never provided
or came over when i was in the bedroom hiding
or scared out of my mind
when someone got killed
in the lobby of my new apartment
don't even start it
where were you
when i needed you most
gone
out for a drink
with a friend
and not me
so i'm not sorry
for playing games
Sorry
i'm not sorry
for ignoring
and neglecting
and leaving
and then running right back
and stalking
and reading
everything you post online
about me
why wouldn't i read
all of the envious things
the devilish mean
and all the nasty
you put on the page
i'll read that for days
if it means that i hurt you that bad
tell you the truth
it doesnt even make me glad
it's all in your head
and it's your own fault
for creating a world
that was all for naught
i'll never apologize
and you'll never know
what you did to me
it'll never show
and i'll always be happy
and i'll know i'm alive
and i never needed you
and i won't til i die
i'm not sorry

i want to live with you.
in a house in the suburbs or in an apartment in the city. i want to wake up and see you next to me, knowing that i am no longer alone throughout the dreary and isolated nights. i want to feel you next to me, to feel your chest rise and fall delicately, to harmonize our breaths in unison. i want to feel your warmth radiate onto me. i want to see you in your most peaceful state, covered in sun that comes through the window. i want to go out and buy groceries, then come home to cook for us. i want to share my shower with you, and i want to carry all of your children. i want to share early mornings and late nights with you. i wish to create a home with you, to let our love flourish within the walls we call ours. i want you by my side when i experience the little things that happen so subtly, yet are remembered for a lifetime.

i want be alive with you.
i want to live like there’s no tomorrow with you. i want to feel the rush of adrenaline or to be stuck in awe in moments that captivate us. and in moments of trouble, i want to know that you will be there so i won’t have to face anything alone. i want to see the world and be caught in it’s action with you. i want to go to France or to Italy to be immersed in the culture with you. i want to see you in your complete ecstasy, to see you feeling just as alive as i do when i am around you. i want to be caught up in your euphoria and jubilation. i want you to take my hand so i can take your name. and as the years start wind down and today begins to feel just like yesterday, i want you to be there, having been through it all. i want to grow old and recollect on our effervescent youth, and wish to do it all over again.

“the rise, and the fall. living life with someone, and being alive with someone. it’s a broad topic and feeling that can only be defined by two words: true romance.
now tell me, have you ever had that?”

Mother always called me the devil child
She said I was  loud, destructive and wild

Parents told sister I was bad and she didn't ever have to play with me
Much time alone was no fun, however for some friends I did make a plea

I'd beg for my mothers attention, she'd run off to her room crying,
Yelled for my dad to come get me, because to her I was very trying

I heard my mother double dog dare my father to hit me
Mother would refer to me as a **** in front of the family

When I was very young mother once said “I will ****** you in cold blood”
Today mother said “you’re crazy, I’d never say that to a child, you are crud”

Nothing I did would ever please my mother
Gifts I bought her were tossed in the gutter

All my cousins were smart, while I was failing all my classes in school
Got into many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel

My family would all make fun of me, call names bully and teased
I was the loser that anyone could do or say what they pleased

None of my cousins was I ever allowed with to play
Was always much of the time alone every and all day

I lived in a strange way my dad was very to the T religious
And my mother was always drunk and of course blameless

She’d drink when home from work, on the weekends or holidays
And could always hide it from all her friends and the relatives

No one believed me when I told them that she had been drinking
They acted like I was crazy by then I knew what they were thinking

Mother took me out Friday's to eat and buy what I wanted, after work
Last stop, the liquor store for drink and smoke, was left in car like a ****

Mother would always drive with me while she was drunk
I knew she'd been drinking because she smelled like a skunk

Bought games that took two to play, parents never had any intention  
Of spending time with me, I was a bad child needing intervention

If I didn’t act a certain way when opening all my very expensive Christmas gifts
She’d pout, leave, and I’d have to open my gifts alone because I’d created a rift

Wasn't  perfect I admit;  ran off when 16 regret parents sent me away,
Came for counseling I complained about moms drinking, she felt angry

Said drinking not my problem, she’d return when I could face the truth
Never could admit wrongdoing, everything was because I was a youth

Home from school one day mom was passed out on  floor drunk
Called 911 her Dr blamed me and said no visit,  he called me a punk

My dad arrived home, find she was throwing up while passed out in bed
He'd take bowls put them near her mouth to catch it,  something I'd dread

He’d walk to the bathroom, empty the bowl and go back to get the next one to do the very same
And replace the unfilled one repeat the process.  I was told by her doctor that I was the blame

Sometimes mom would run down the hall to the toilet bowl throw up then my heart would race
Because I always knew mom would do this and then she’d come to room to scare rant and pace

Since I was a badly spoiled child who had parents with money, nice house cars and good jobs
And I was not willing to help out or be responsible, was told I made the family look like slobs

My sister let her boyfriend talk her into letting him take me to dentist, instead, he molested me
No one believed me because in the past I had lied about things, and the truth no one would see

I was different all the cousins, my aunts and uncle could blame me when things went missing
Or went wrong I was then and still am now the perfect scapegoat yes about it I’m still babbling

My father ran out the back door when he heard me wake up and come out of my room
So he didn't have to  bother with me, I wanted to spend time with him he’d assume

Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and I then would move
To a different city, I felt I might have better luck and my life would improve.

Married two very bad guys both who drank, beat me and verbally abused
Divorced them both and had one child and how I’d raise this child alone I was confused.

Moved into an apartment I still today about it rave
Mother always referred to it as a little dark damp cave

Things I wanted my mother to do with me she would say no
But wouldn't turn down a chance with other family to go

But this home where I've written articles, poetry that's been published
Most of the things I've written, mother has said they are mostly *******

Tried to work and go to school never was competent enough to follow through
Each time I would start either I did not have the ability to complete anything new

My daughter grew up, became ill with a repeating debilitating disease
I dedicated myself to getting her well, and nothing about it was a breeze

Had to take her in pain for doctor visits many times she’d cry and wished she were dead
This broke my heart with no family help, just her and I to face things in the years ahead

Unable to attend school for years, the doctor signed permission to stay home
School system assigned a teacher who was mean nothing about her was tome

School Social workers interfered
And my name they smeared

She finally one day went into remission
And now the Nephrotic kidney condition

Seems, for now, to have forever gone for good away
For years it’s been don’t want others to downplay

For a while, I home schooled her and the first semester back in the public school
She was on the honor roll things seemed to be looking up and I felt like I was the rule

Then one day she lost interest in classes, homework, and attending
And the principal of the high school was calling and threatening

Took her out of school and put her in to get her GED
Then  she was soon graduated within month of three

A year before she was supposed to graduate
I knew by then that I was doing things right

Enrolled me and her in community college we made the Dean’s list and no student loan debt
Last May she and I graduated have a new life now I don’t feel things in my life are a threat

Alone I’ve raised a good child, published a book and kept things together
I’ve published some poetry and stories in that will be on web pages forever

Even though my parents have helped me out once in a while financially
I feel lack of respect since they helped family who treated me crummy

I’m still feeling and have most of the hopeless thoughts when I was young
I still try to steer my daughter to be different from me and hold my tongue

Sister divorced husband for molesting children told kids I was bad
Lives in my town and over 20 years never talked, by her, I've been had

I think it's because my parents never would face reality or admit
To any wrong doing of years of abuse, something I couldn't forget

Mother has disowned me going to court to remove my name
Because she said I've caused her embarrassment and shame

I'm damaged goods, only go to doctor and for groceries to shop
I hide inside and on computer, write stories and poems till I drop

Why am I talking about this after all these years still?
Because I think that it may just possibly help me to heal

Looking back I find so many things have not been my fault
But I still feel many days like I'm the only one under assault.

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