The Poetry Marathon

I don’t want to live up to anymore expectations,

I really don’t have the heart,

to pick up any more of your broken pieces,

when I’m the one who fell apart.

I wish you could make this one moment about me,

but the world revolves around you,

you say who I am is a lie,

but that’s further from my truth.

Our loved ones predicted I’d be on your path,

but I’m not and you still live in the past.

I’m projected to go forward,

those times were never meant to last.

Get with the program,

take a better shot,

in the end,

you’re probably the only one you’ve got.

Fickle fiend– vexed by

the push and pull,

your talons clutch my chest,

grasp my heart between beats,

and choke the life out of me.

Why do you long for me?

I want to let you go.

Could you berate me with anything but your love?

Just hate me.

Say your last goodbye and mean it.

I don’t need you to save me.

I just need you to believe I am enough on my own.

Just let me go.

I parked under the carport,

pressed my head against the steering wheel.

Clammy and reeling,

the tremor in my hands causes my elbow to bump the glass window,

and my jacket softens the blow.

The bayou in front of my headlights,

illuminated with one lightbulb.

reflection of the elk drinking from the water– their own personal bucket.

I long for you next to me, in this quiet.

Your embrace and the aroma of cinnamon and vanilla.

I wish you were here, but it’s just me,

the earth, and the smell of beet root instead.

sighs and closed eyelids,

taste of saltine crackers

between cracked lips.

hold my rib cage together

so my heart can’t escape

my chest.

pavement scratches my knees,

batters them, but it’s just a

misdemeanor.

slapped on the wrists

while walking on Mass Ave,

the rainbow road

marks my belonging.

claps and pats on the back

line the street,

and the feel of smiles

widen mine.

the shame I held fades,

regenerating pride.

I just want to grow and be able to live,

but I’m pretty sure I’m just a weed that can’t be killed–

some sort of invasive species.

Little man, be soft,

be tough–

be the feather bed and catch your loved ones

when they fall.

Little man, be soft,

be tough–

outstretch your hands

and wipe the dirt off someone else’s shirt.

Little man, be soft,

be tough–

use your words

and do good in this world.

Little man, be soft,

be tough–

shield the hearts of others

pierced by life’s many knives.

Little man, be soft,

be tough–

don’t go towards any light.

You are the light– and you are worth going towards.

Let the soft and tough ones find you.

I’m at the end of my rope,

the stressors of this world in my teeth.

Grit them to keep the grinding to a minimum,

I could use a soft place to land.

I just need to be.

Life isn’t fair,

and life is never free.

Freedom isn’t my need,

I just want to receive what I give.

I just need to be.

I’m ready for sleep,

for time to pass me by.

Once I am resting,

please don’t wake me.

I just need to be.

Stress is tension,

climbing and a system of pulleys.

The tight rope closeness,

emboldened by the fear of a lead fall.

Create a crack in the boulder

with my grip,

snags and zippers.

The catch that takes my breath away before ascending again,

determined not to make a sound.

Depending on someone,

I simply refuse.

Each time I have,

results in a case of the blues.

Watching you go through the same,

I long to raise your bar.

You deserve a better hand this game,

one worthy of who you are.

If I could take the punch and

absorb all the pain,

my rage would crash down,

pelting anyone taking advantage with rain.

I’d be the hail,

every boom in a thunderstorm.

If it meant they’d treat you well

I’d be your shelter from all harm.

*** Not finished with this. Will revise later. ***