And when I see you
my heart crumbles to dust.
For as lovely and healing as I am,
you are as fearful and wounded.
I am sad for you--
how painful must this be!
I am sad for me, but I know
that while I am deserving of love,
this was not enough.
Half of me stares, unfocused, at nothing in particular. I, her, we dissociate. Pleasantly warm, feeling nothing emotionally. Mentally, I remain in neutral. How good it feels to be nothing at all! Half of me flips rapidly through a rolodex of stories, half-baked daydreams. If only I could catch
I didn’t go to the party for this moment. I stayed home to sit by the window-- cat on my lap, writing by candlelight-- so that when the sky opened up, I would be there with the window open, to let the warm petrichor waft through. I skipped to
Who is she? This woman within, who I keep fossilized, buried under years of dirt in the sand that packs my soul. How could I let her become forgotten? Exploited, abandoned in man’s endless conquest. When did the rest of my being grow so dry? I once was a
I am a willow tree in your family’s yard, my sighing boughs dancing with the wind. I supported your tire swing, watched you laugh and feel free, celebrated with you in your peaceful moments. I hid you from the outside world, when you wept beneath my branches, seeking solace