Prose

I have a propensity for scribbling things down in random notepads, then completely losing them. I've been writing poetry since I was 11 years old. I once had a huge binder full of poetry that spanned eight years (my teenage years) and my ex boyfriend from high school got a hold of them and spitefully threw them away. It was one of the very few things that could actually break me, as it reflected who I was, what I thought about, and what rested on my heart. Since then, I've gone to great lengths to keep my poetry private, and I've lost my poetry by hiding it from myself! This is just a snippet of what I've written recently. Please enjoy, but please be sensitive to the fact that these are my words, and while comments and questions are welcome, unauthorized publishing is not. :-) Thanks!



WORDS OF A WRESTLING CONSCIENCE

I am listening, yet I am without sound sense, an apparition
of who I once was, a little less keen, a little too courageous.
I am listening, yet I am without clarity, I seek to provide
but fall short to understand, indignant and confused, but willing.
I am listening, yet I am without sound advice, what one
decides is of his own convoluted mind, this is individual-
This is different.
I am listening, self aware of tragic flaws and addictions;
the threat of consequences looms in my personal space, I ignore it.
I am listening, but the language is foreign, I strain and put
my ears close to the thin line that is the wall, I knock on the glass ceiling.
I am listening, but I have every excuse in the world, I struggle to take heed;
I want to be better, but I am too fallen.
I am listening because I want to be needed and cherished
though it comes at a price, costing my solid ground; I call it compromise.
I am listening because I want to offer myself to love you better
yet being love's sacrificial lamb is inglorious and thankless.
I am listening, because I desperately need fresh air and cleanliness
but I live for this suffocating moment - it hurts so good.
I am listening, but the truth is I am not responsive.
I am unresponsive because I cannot see.
I cannot see what I so badly desire to feel.
And I cannot feel because
I am without sound sense-
an apparition of who I once was
a little less keen,
a little too courageous.




INSOMNIA

I try so hard to stay awake.
If I close my eyes I will miss the storm,
and the subsequent sunrise
I try so hard to stay awake.

I ask him not to miss a beat.
If he's led astray, he will miss the kick
of the baby's happy feet.
Our future.
I ask him not to miss a beat.

I have to fill these working shoes.
To pay the debt, to pay it forward, to live
in this too-small home. I ride the crowded bus -
it's a must-
I have to fill these working shoes.

I ask for God to wake me up.
If I kick the habit, I can breathe
a little easier, but this air isn't enough.
I want it, I need it, I am weak;
I ask for God to wake me up.



the love letter You never got

my dearest, sweetest, most wonderful...You
you have been the air i've longed to breathe.
with this prevailing rumination in my mind, it seems that all i can do
is put pen to paper and open my heart to You.
You...are...not the alpha and omega, You are not my God.
but if the definition of royalty had your components,
i would be a huge proponent for making You my king.
the notable, the noble, the one and only, You,
i've longed to faintly touch your cinnamon sweet skin,
to be held a bit longer than i should, to dangerously confess
my affections...
i've closed my eyes, wished You away a thousand times
spoke of it as foolishness, to smother the potential fire,
yet you're still there...
dancing circles around my ruminations
you're asking me to love You
to breathe your air
to take You in
to risk being hated
but to feel so free!
it's unthinkable, unbelievable, impossible, regrettable
that i cannot rest to your heartbeat
or blend my hand in yours, or
to be embraced for a moment too long...
You are not the alpha, no, you're not the omega, You are not my God.
but I've loved You forever and would make you my king-
if i could.
but i can't.
my dearest, sweetest, most wonderful...You,
You will continue to be the air that I long to breathe.



(UNTITLED)

Look at me.
Stop pretending that I am invisible, that you cannot see
I stand before you, wreaking of the debris
That your chaos and foolishness rendered upon me
I didn't ask to be here, you didn't give me a chance.
Look at me.
I am the minor detail of your many offenses
The end result of how you've created much contention
I am the reason for your internal discension
But it kills me, not you - pay attention!
Look at me!
These marks are the scars that you gave
Seeing them against my will fills me with hate
So I cover them so as to not appear disgraced
You're wrong, I'm worthy, I cannot be replaced.
Look at me-
They say karma is a bitch- I'd believe it if it were true
But nothing terrible has reciprocally happened to you
And I feel obsessed, seeking justice where it is due
If for not all offenses, the major few.
Look at me.
It's time to come clean and take what you give.
It's time to apologize and see what you did.
It's time to be humble for the nasty way that you lived,
It's time that you truly become the invalid.




(Untitled Again)


I've tried so hard to ignore you, pretend you weren't in my face
Of all the demons and addictions, it's you that I can't escape
Disillusioned, disheartened, disconcerted, I've fought
Blind, dumb, deaf, stupid, are all the things that I recall
What feeling existed, what love did we feel beside our flesh conjoined
what explanation could you give me that doesn't begin and end with your loins?
Unfair to call you the vacuum that sucked my soul dry
Unfair that I gave you more than you deserved, when you refused to try
I'm standing, I'm kneeling, I'm crawling, I'm lying,
I'm smiling, I'm not looking, I'm shocked, then I'm dying.
Cyclical.
Typical.
You sit in the dark to be alone in your thoughts, all the while
God is asking me to love him the way that I love you...and I don't know how
'Wait, baby, wait - I thought of you today. I still think of you everyday'
How is it possible that you got me to stay?
Still, I think of the countless times that I've shed a tear
While you poked her or kissed her or whispered in someone else's ear.
You've given me nothing but the shell of who you were, who I was
Never thought that I'd have to become unrefined, ghetto, over-compensatingly tough
Because what you had with me wasn't enough
What I loved in you wasn't enough
When I loved you wasn't enough.





 A Perspective

The wheels turn, the sun has set, and tomorrow it shall rise
Repetitiously, the day reveals another mundane day.
Yet God's machinations and beauty await within the guise
Of predictability and ambiguity defeating those of the fray.

Promise is a gift, and adversely a curse
an eternal battle of what is, and what could be.
But with innate goodness, filled with hope, we search
For answers sufficient enough, to breathe.

Some souls wear fortitude and courage on their backs
Because they have no other choice, just two legs to stand.
They struggle and battle in wars, fighting alone when attacked
While the enemy renders judgment with a heavy hand.

Forgiveness is reserved for promises broken
A breach that hides and deflates the silver line
Sometimes the battle itself is accepting fates token
of disappointment, change in course, and compromise.

A mind must be feeble before it becomes wise
A true testament to the way souls grow
Then, beneath the inevitable sunset and sunrise
God's machinations and beauty will show.