Stolen but touching

"...thinking that if people were rain, 
I was drizzle and she was a hurricane."

reflections are broken by skipping stones on the surface, I wonder if self reflection works the same way?

dirty people doing dirty things in dirty places
one pure child dressed in virgin cotton,
standing where others lie,
deep eyes and a misplaced smoke in her mouth.
she understands but shouldn't be here, doesn't belong
here nor there
there is where the clean, the untouched, the right is
where she feels crammed in, full of edges
the time will always come in both mind-worlds
for the switch to be pulled, the button to be pressed
she's just waiting for the day when she's able recognize when it's been hit

not sure who this was for but I'm sure it's heartfelt.

my heart did not just twinge
I do not feel a swelling emptiness growing inside, that gap that is always there
I can't believe I still miss you
like a roughened up ravine, filled with brush and debris, but the cut in the earth is still there.
always there.

what an appropriate business card/who doesn't do the whole self-loathing thing in college anyway?

that's it there,
right on top of a ball of curled-up pain,
the silent, yawning scream of anguish
(you're such a drama queen Andrea).
my shame is shiny on my cheeks,
the recognizable glow of zero self respect.

and now I don't even know what you like to be called - Rebecca or Becky

you babysat us -
the older cooler one with an endless patience for wee ones who clammered to impress the age we never believed we'd get to ourselves -
and now I stare at photos at your beautiful children, the love that you found
and I cry over the very obvious passage of time.
Will I find that?
When did he grow up?
When did I blink or turn my head or become so oblivious that I missed his growing up?
He's a handsome mini man now with a new baby brother!
It felt like seconds ago that I held him, an awkward bundle in an awkward teen's arms.
Time, darling, please, ease up on that pace a little, I'm starting to fall behind it seems and I've never been a fan of losing races.

like a last complex dressing, I can tell by the packing that the wound is nearly closed. Scant discharge with healthy pink granulation, this one's going to be fine.

a fine wine, slow to self realization,
today I realize I needed to be left sitting in the dark for a while to let myself settle
no one wants sentiment floating in their glass anyway

she always hums snippets while she cleans (momma, I miss you)

Small snippets of wordless music come to my throat
I let them loose between closed lips and I'm reminded of home

Caffienated and a bit too deep for my liking

and you tell me of the songs you listened to while I cut your heart out
a surgeon and her song
I'm not sure what I'm allowed to feel
I was dancing to those songs while I forgot about your stories

threadbare

we were happy for such an insignificant amount of time in the loom of time
one missed knot will not unmake a blanket.
...a pulled thread however...

for the nights that you can't remember
I refused to whisper goodnight
I love you,
it fell on dead ears and
seemed so fake
so false
after I went down the stairs
love became a joke
I'll take the punchline to the grave

I wouldn't give you the time of day
I put more thought into my gifts than that

the bus is making fountain pop sounds
I hope they have diet

there is a playful piece of darkness who plays tag with my peripherals in the parking lot

Goodbye Alex. I hope you figure your shit out bud.

so maybe I got my wish and
the true taste of what I dreamt of for so long
has brought the oceans to my eyes.
the deal was the ideal or bust,
not beauty without love,
friends without truth.
dear snake, all the sweet smelling venom dripping from your fangs,
it's overpowered me,
leaving me shaky and sick,
untrusting of too much.