Gingerly, I awaken,
Unaware of the time or place.
For that split second,
everything is still ok.
Then the reality sets in,
And the world burdens me,
With the “to do”s and the “need to”s,
The “urgent”s and the “should have”s from yesterday.
Before those get too great,
I pour a cup of coffee,
And feel thankful that I woke up today.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Why do interviewers always ask this question?
Why don’t they ask “a year from now?”
Or what about “three years from now?”
Three years ago, give or take, I was a fresh nurse,
Interviewing for work to further my career.
They asked me that question, and I gave some great answer I’m sure.
Three years later, and I took a job for family, that no longer feels like family.
Three years later, and my career is decimated unless I get my boss’s recommendation.
My job is destroying my career.
Now, it’s time to rise from the destruction,
Like a phoenix.
My bed is warm and comfortable,
A comfort in the cold mornings.
The world is cold and a traitor,
Pulling me forth with promises of greatness,
Only to pull them away,
And replace them with doubt.
Still, I rise.
I face the challenges of the day,
I fight against the odds,
And hope for greatness anyway.
Remember the word “forget”.
Forget when things were bad,
Forget those happy moments.
Forget what hurts,
Forget what healed.
Forget her,
Remember me,
As I will always remember you.
I don’t know you,
The way you face your fears,
The way you face your accomplishments.
I don’t know you,
How you cope with disaster,
How you maintain in the good times.
I don’t know you,
But you are me,
And I want to know you.
Come back soon.
No one’s picking up the phone.
It just keeps ringing and ringing,
Throwing me further into despair.
It flips to voicemail,
But I’m not ready to talk.
So I dial again,
And again,
And again.
Just to hear your voice.
I guess I need to save myself this time.
Whenever I feel stuck,
I remember that I can change.
I don’t have to stay where I am,
Continue to do what I can’t stand,
Pretend to like those that don’t like me.
Yes, sometimes I get low,
And things get dark,
But like the flowers that bloom
Once winter has ended,
I am not buried in darkness.
I am a seed.
I will rise with grace and wisdom.
I will become more,
Than what I once was.
I thought I got away clean.
No scars,
No bruises,
No pain,
From the damage I caused.
Too bad I was my own witness.
Now all I feel is you.
Get to know me,
I know you can.
I may look tough on the outside,
Or bored,
Or untouchable.
On the inside,
I am full of secrets.
Just look past my hardcover
To find the goodness inside.
Sometimes rules are rigid,
Hard lines, set in stone,
that should not be crossed.
Sometimes rules are limp,
As easily arranged as wet noodles,
Vague and malleable.
Other times,
Rules are set to keep us down,
Keep us in place,
Scared to fight for what we want.
Those rules,
More like guidelines,
Should be crossed.
Draw your own line.
Make your own rules.
Be who you want to be.
Nothing is ever free.
Beware the offers,
And the solicitations,
And the sales pitches,
To change your life forever.
Beware the gifts,
And the prizes,
All to “better” yourself.
They may all have free delivery,
But you pay the price,
With your individuality.
My bag is packed.
It’s sitting by the door,
waiting to be swept away,
Whenever I feel
that you and I are no longer compatible.
So say something,
Do something,
To make me believe
That I can stop running.
Give me a reason to make a home
In you,
And unpack my baggage for good.
I was fresh out of the package,
and you burned me with your influence.
Fed me your lines and your rhymes,
All in perfect time and cadence.
You marked me with your ways,
and your faults,
so that whenever I do anything,
I am reminded of you.
Your rhymes and your cadences,
all getting stuck in my head as they are tattooed on my skin.
Sometimes,
the only way to heal is to break,
shatter until I can’t hear your melody anymore.
Break and twist until I can no longer fit in your machine.
I feel I am molten,
Lava bubbling and shifting just beneath my skin,
Waiting to erupt forth in a brilliant spectacle of despair,
And rebirth.
My muscles can’t stay stagnant,
My blood courses with new vigor,
My body ready to awaken,
And create something beautiful.
Maybe you’re right.
Maybe I let go too soon,
Tapped out when I should have stayed in,
Let things go when they got too tough,
Gave up,
Gave in.
Maybe I am a coward,
For leaving,
For tapping out,
For wanting to protect myself,
For wanting to chase my own happiness,
Instead of feeling like I was stagnant and drowning.
Thank you for calling me “coward”,
I’m going to prove you wrong.
Everything about you is beautiful.
Your eyes, bright, but guarded,
And for good reason.
Your lips, withdrawn, curled in on themselves,
But soft enough to soothe the pain.
Things will take time,
But when you smile–
God, when you smile!–
And your eyes and your lips blossom,
Everything seems right.
Grief is the price you pay for having joy,
If I smile today,
Will I grieve tomorrow?
If my heart is so full,
Will it shatter tomorrow?
If not tomorrow,
The next day,
Next year?
When?
Maybe when I try and spread joy,
All I touch becomes grief.
If I’m aware of that,
Can I change it,
Or will grief always be the price for joy?
There is a dead woman’s food in the fridge,
And it’s starting to stink.
There’s a dead woman’s food in the fridge,
But no one can bear to get rid of it,
Either because it is the last part of her,
Or because no one has time.
There is a dead woman’s food in the fridge,
And like her,
It is rotting.
You beautiful brown brew,
Instilled with bitterness and fire.
You stunning collection of sun and dirt,
Filling me with energy and light.
Without you,
I don’t think I could survive.
Thank you,
For letting me turn you,
into pages and pages of
Nonsense.
Same time tomorrow?
She is the sun,
And she is the moon.
She is the entire galaxy,
And I am drowning among her stars.
