#vss365 “chunk”

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.

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.

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.

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