my mind wandered as the knife sliced clean thorough efficient through the pungent onions the stubborn carrots the sound of the blade brought satisfaction crisp against the celery i readied the stove flames medium the aroma of care permeating my home the once solid bacon drippings melted in the cast iron pot small bits missed from sieving sizzled crackled my heart sang the song of the women before me all the heartaches the miseries the mistreatments dissolved like animal fat over heat the ballad of my forebearers fell on me and i felt it as i had before this was love a calming daytime lullaby a melody only heard in my kitchen and i thought of you in the peacefulness of that moment what we had spoken of laughed about agreed upon intention every dash of salt shake of spice slow stir of whatever was bubbling simmering coalescing a rhythm notes being played subconsciously and through intuition i could dance all night to the music i cooked and for the quickest blink of a millisecond i missed you
Category: poems
A Kind of Naked
my eyes grew smaller by the minute i should have been sleeping instead late night conversation next to you side by side in my bed fully clothed head to toe while we stripped down to the vulnerable nudity of our souls the soft cushions of the longed for hopes strewn haplessly unorganized dusty but present unearthing past dreams hidden under blankets in the corner my secrets and your demons whispering to each other co-conspirators partners in crime tendrils of one coiling towards the curls of the other linking intertwining unifying and i should have been sleeping yet there i was naked in my truth marveling at the stark authenticity of yours modesty is overrated
My home, My heart
As I'd been tossing the old and unwanted
parting with the objects
which no longer served me
did not bring joy
were not useful
had no purpose other than
taking up
much needed space
I remembered someone saying
or maybe
I read it somewhere
but
A person's home is a reflection of self.
I stopped
took a moment
The books
the plants
the comforts
the oddities
the weirdness
the normal
the art
the pictures
the colors
the colors
the colors
the kitchen still fragrant
from the previous night's dinner
stems rooting in
plastic water filled
shot glasses
on the sparse countertop
coffee pot
half full
still hot
splashes of bright red
dried chili peppers
microwave
mixer
I took a seat
at the hand-me-down dining table
canary yellow tablecloth
with the floral print
greens, blues, purples,
complementing the artwork ridden
walls
and mirrors
all the mirrors
to reflect
to deflect
in the stillness of the waning afternoon
splashes of the setting sun
upon shelves
filled with cookbooks
horror novels
rocks collected at parks
clay dinosaurs
molded by
children
young and inquisitive
I appreciated the warmness
and assurance
of the small space
I had created for myself
of myself
A brightly pleasant
curio shop
of the soul
I know
maybe
it's not for everyone
but the right one
will find it to be
a haven
coping mechanisms
when i was younger heartbreak devastated me in the worst way i'd slip away into late night dives drinking to forget picking up strangers just to feel wanted pretending they gave a shit even though i knew they didn't never being able to stand my own reflection the morning after fortunately times have changed i don't find solace in self-destruction the way i once did i suppose i've evolved lately i like to read old love poems the ones i wrote when the future seemed certain and promising i read them to remind myself that it has happened before it can happen again just because i've always been slow to trust when the time came to lower the many bridges to my soul's heart i did and i have continued to love unconditionally truthfully loyally always kindly. while my stomach is sick with the churning chaos of another paramour removed i take the time to acknowledge the moments where it all felt real new forever even if it doesn't feel that way at the present
Always the Bridesmaid
the world is small and people talk it is the nature of the social beast the want the feeling to be a part of something that being said it came as no surprise when the idle neighborhood gossip the game of telephone reached me almost immediately it didn't take you long did it... going back to the one you wanted in the first place what can i say? nothing except that i cannot find my shocked face perhaps because there isn't one
Keeping Time
I would once become angry so angry fits of rage manic phone calls hours upon hours of making myself clinically insane I would show up drunk on a doorstep at 4 a.m. screaming crying tiny mascara rivers painting my cheeks black snot bubbles above a snarl no sense only scorn I could feel my heart being wrung twisted and contorted burning in agony from its mangled state A particular kind of torment one never forgets or hopes to endure again and I recall the panicked and confused stares eyes darting left right making sure the neighbors weren't witness to my psychotic scene I only wanted answers Why wasn't I worth the effort? What made me Less Than? Why was I bending like the reed and there they stood, unfeeling oaks? Well. Years have come and gone ticks on a metronome keeping time for no one listening except myself I'm older Much. I no longer pitch fits dramatic displays are beneath me and more importantly take up far too much energy of which I have less and less One thing... the years have done nothing to diminish the corrosiveness of lost love's affliction The ache of my heart's suffering isn't reduced No It all still hurts the same It is only more familiar An unwelcome unavoidable guest I am forced to entertain every so often The difference now is I am much more aware of my worth despite the accompanying wretched emotional injury and no amount of tears wails impassioned pleas deranged theatrics and/or any and all will make a dent in someone else's minimal perception of my value It doesn't lead me to madness not anymore I am only burdened by sorrow for what the other person lost failed to grasp refused to see what could have been so. I mend what has been fragmented Allow myself the solitude to heal And in the quietude of another long night the metronome ticks ticks ticks
their indifference, my shame
i am always embarrassed when i miss those who don't care to even give a thought of me it's like ... excitedly babbling about a subject of interest only to find that no one is listening or even cares caught up in their own self-contained bubbles so the words, exploding glistening once rainbow bright with vivacity slowly lose their vibrancy colors sad wilted with losing life bleeding away into gray silence that is what it's like my heart hemorrhaging prismatic poetry to an audience stone-faced indifferent unmoved that is how i feel i have to remind myself if i knock on the door of a house with no lights i shouldn't be surprised when no one answers it does not lessen my shame
Untapped Potential Gone to Waste
He claimed to be "deeply in love" while continuing to ignore the concerns of the object of his supposed affection hurting her with inaction inflicting pain through purposeful neglect attempts at gaslighting when she came to close to shining the light on the darkened corners He specialized in self-delusion She knew this. She was not fooled by the facade She came from a family of people like him Yet, She chose to see the goodness So She gave chances. She offered patience and kindness. Because, as always she saw the potential in the person. She believed in evolution progress growth But She never lied to herself the way he managed to avoid self-truths day in and day out. And she knew in her heart of heart of Hearts recognizing what Could Be didn't make up for What It Wasn't. And it Wasn't Love.
Truth
They love you when its convenient When you are smiles and sunshine glittering across the softest waves a blooming bud opening its petals to the world They love you when it looks good When there's an audience Envious of the affection and attention wishing they had what is displayed before them A fancy overly priced Bauble behind a polished pane "Look... Don't touch" They love you when it's easy When you don't ask questions When you allow mistreatment When you stay silent while the screaming inside reaches crescendos which would shatter glass They love you when you are an idea When you fit the mold They've set for you You do not exceed the parameters You are contained In the box You are a picture Of Perfection A picture Not a person All of this Is to say In short... They Don't Actually Love You
Only For You
It's been an up and down not quite right everything scattered everywhere kind of a month as usual I weave my way through the chaos not altogether gracefully tripping over this and a couple times that but I had a minute and chatted with an old friend and maybe it's because we travel in the same circles or perhaps because the universe saw fit to summon you back into my consciousness we spoke of you briefly and I said I wished we had never been together because I missed your friendship that was enough of that and I went about my measured sprinting in accomplishing all the things needing to be accomplished and then the cruel joke from humorless gods a song one I hadn't heard in almost a year picked perfectly its moment to reemergeturning the still embedded knife slow in my gut a reminder that it was beautiful for a minute but also knowing with the heaviness of its truth it was not so glorious that it was worth losing a friend.
But Otherwise Fine 