I used to think it was a tiny bit. You know, big enough to notice but not enough to bother.
But now it stings, like a widening gap. The tiny bit is now a big chunk where you stole the best parts and left me empty.
Ash
I write it down on paper, where we went, what we did, how we laughed.
Then I toss it in the fire, hoping the flame can erase what my mind cannot.
Better than my wildest dreams
I can tell by the way the sun trickles through the dogwood branches to shine on your face, this is going to be home.
My, it’s been awhile
I have no idea how many of you still frequent what used to be our favorite hang out spots here on the lovely ol’ WordPress. Please do drop a comment if you remember those times. I truly would love to hear from you and catch up.
So much has changed in the last couple of years. The biggest being that I stopped writing.
And that needs to be fixed.
I’m looking forward to immersing myself back into this community.
You have been sorely missed.
J
10.18.14
Nostalgic hands reach out
to touch this holy mantle,
brushing away dust and
memories best forgotten
I breathe deep and
listen for the
scent of you
to come visit me,
more real and present than
the space in each photo
where your face is
meant to be
but never does appear
Every nerve ending
connected to the
pounding in my chest
screams that you
should be in there,
not ghosted away to
a fortress of his will that
keeps you at arm’s distance
and me without a key
My mind hurls itself at
the locked steel bars,
a battering ram to
the door of all things unfair,
kicking and bashing
until the pain
from bloodied mental knuckles
gently lay me
to the cool uncaring floor
where I weep a river that
floods the moat
Because you wanted to be there too.
None
You can cut off both my hands
And I’d still be able to count
How many times you give a damn
Fine Line
I borrowed my dad’s tool set because it looked cooler than the ones we had in class. I turned each screw as hard as I could and swung the door panel a million and half times to make sure it was loose enough to open but tight enough that no baby birds would fall out. I painted it robin egg blue and posted it proudly in our backyard. It didn’t take long for the bluebirds to find it and for me to become fascinated with their homemaking progress. Twigs turned to nests, nests to eggs, eggs to waiting impatiently for squeaky mouths to feed. But it turned out that I didn’t have to wait long because the neighborhood boys came along and threw every last one against a tree for sport.
And that was the day I learned the difference between love and apathy.
Apparition (a two-liner)
You appear when I’m not looking
And now I cannot look away
Dream child
She captures the sun’s essence with the smile on her face
And clothes herself in the fabric of my own heart
She is Summer.
Scrapbook #9
You and I haven’t spoken out loud in a while
We haven’t touched
Haven’t danced
Or mused
So when I enter the room
Glance your way
Come closer
Reach…
The pleasure nearly sends me crumbling to the floor
Among other things, J 