"The Process of A Broken Heart"- A Poem

I lie down and gaze at the white canvas of the heaven above me

And my ears fill with water and

Static of sounds surround me.

There’s a ding in my heart

Like a scratch on a brand new vehicle,

It’s ugly to human eyes.

It was specifically put there and without it knowing,

I was ruined

Crushed into a million glass pieces that shatter and make an earsplitting explosion

But it’s not a violent one.

It’s in slow-motion and silent,

Like the lowering of a loved one into their grave.

It’s peaceful.

But it still hurts.

Dear Darling...

Dear Darling,

            You will never be my darling. Even though your eyes sparkle when they catch a glimpse of me, you would never admit that to me. The room spins when you hear me laugh, but you would deny it. You’re too cool for that. You’re too cool to express your feelings, or be someone other than everyone else. It’s the pressure, pressing down so hard on your heart to contain itself. Don’t let people see who you really are. Why laugh in a room full of people with straight faces? Yes. I am mad. I am mad because I know inside you are more that what you try so hard to convey. Let it out. Why keep your real self locked inside a shell of conformity? You are better than that. Please, consider this. I would love you so much my heart would burst. But then the more I think of it, maybe this really is how you are. In that case, I’m sorry you have to live that way. And I’m sorry for myself. I am sorry for me because I believed you would change. I kept hope in something that would lead me to nowhere. And now I’m broken down. And only an angel could save me.

                                                                                    Love,

                                                                                                Me

"Imagination"- A Poem

                                                          

Blank pages,

Staring widely at me

Trying to find hope,

And strength to break free

But the greater shadow

Is holding them back,

Waiting for a moment

To pounce and attack

The pages are dull

And float away,

Because they dream

Of better days

Days where they,

Can wander freely

No one who’s asking

And growing needy

“Who are you?”

They wonder why,

“I am me.”

The pages reply

Someday the pages

Will figure out,

This mystery of life

We ponder about.

                                                                        

"Fear" - A Poem

It’s a child.

Waiting for the monsters to pop out of the closet

With piercing screams and then silence

The “deer in the headlights" look

And along with the air you breathe in after holding your breath,

It’s harsh and freezing, and tastes sharp like ice.

It’s when your throat suddenly gets dry as a bone

And you smell fire and see your reflection in the flame,

Warped and distorted like a ghost

It feels like something died there, or was possessed by a different being.

You taste bitter orange peels

And your eyes glaze over with the feeling you get right before you hear bad news

Someone gulps loudly and your hands shake uncontrollably.

You are falling and hitting the ground with a force so intense, it can’t be explained.

It’s shock.

And anxiety

And your whole body feels as if it has been drained completely of everything

And your face goes so pale

You look literally white.

And you aren’t very sure if you can sleep through the night.

"Where I'm From"- A Poem :)

 I come from the place with the antique radio,

The big backyard with the swing set

 We used to climb on and peek to the other side.

This place had a pecan tree

We’d steal the nuts from

And hear the crack against the wood shed ramp

It had a tree swing

With a thick white rope where,

If you swung too high,

You would nearly crash into the bark.

I am from the late night concerts

With the pink straw hat

Mumbling the words to songs I loved

I come from the new house

That holds Ralph’s house in its hot, barely lit attic

That contains the miniature hangers and carpeted hallways

Fit for a mouse

I am from the destroyed gingerbread houses

One by accident that scattered across the floor

The other on purpose for the one before

This place I’m from had a big blue shed

That was knocked down and caused tears

Tears that flowed for a silly reason that made everyone laugh

I am from the puppet shows

And the “Mail me to grandma!” moments

From the place where Barbie and her friends swam in the sink

And they left water seeping onto the floor

That’s why they only got to swim once in a great while

I’m from the place with that hamster that’s brown and white

The hamster that ate everything and needed regular haircuts

I am from the place with the baby pool

We sprayed Mom with the green water hose

And she pretended she was mad but really wasn’t

Dad caught it all on video and couldn’t help but laugh

I come from the place with the roller skates

That looked like clown shoes

They made me fall and skin my knees but I loved them

I am from the place with the Halloween

Where we shared a big hardwood floor and the room echoed

And all the brightly colored candy was spilled everywhere

I am from the place with the babysitter that would draw pretty pictures

I tried to copy the outline with a marker and crayon on the inside

I am from the places with memories, laughter, and lessons learned,

And everything that has made up my brilliant past.