The End
Desperation is made of quick breath,
and wilted wishes.
There is no thing sadder than
expiration from emptiness,
except dying while alive.
Hour Twenty Three
I am broken and imperfect
I wonder if I’ll ever be good enough
I hear ravens speak
I see dragons dance
I want to fly away
I am broken and imperfect
I pretend I am happy
I feel the weight of the world
I touch the edge of greatness
I worry that this is all there is
I cry for who I was meant to be
I am broken and imperfect
I understand that this too shall pass
I say, “Things will get better.”
I dream that one day they will
I try to hold on to that dream
I hope no one ever sees
I am broken and imperfect
Failures of Kindness
I drove away and left
you standing there, staring.
I, resolute, right,
and short on sight.
It is the silent
information we miss
that later makes us long
for that forgotten kiss.
poem 5/12: words that i’ve lost
laughter
sunshine
joy..
play
hug
snort & chuckle..
—
catch his eye;
smile – warm
—
hug/touch – just because.
—
love.
—
: words that i’ve lost.
Hour Twenty Two
The fairy tales got it wrong
They end at the beginning
Real love isn’t the chase
It’s what happens after the race
It’s hard work to love someone
And that work never ends
Midnight comes after every ball
And you have to learn to love their flaws
Dusk
A mourning dove trills
above my window sill.
Memorial to a well-worn day
as it weeps and slips away.
Hour Twenty One
Poe
It means tortured, confused, genius
It is the number thirteen
It is like a midnight dreary
It is pondering over forgotten lore
It is the memory of the lost Lenore
That taught me grief and loss
When her story unfolded
His name was Poe
It means he believed in Nevermore…
Hour Twenty
I search for that piece
The one that was left behind
That one elusive piece of the puzzle
That will help make sense of it all
I look under couch and chair
In cushions and crevices
Was it left at the market?
Perhaps back at school?
Did I misplace it at my mother’s?
Now when did I last see it?
I’m sure it was long ago
Perhaps it was thrown out
Tossed away with other unneeded things
Yet still I search
No stone left unturned
That ever elusive piece
The one that will make me whole
Sleep
Sleek and liquid as melted
chocolate it slips
through
my cells.
Enrobed in
delicious delirium,
I am
an unaware
time traveller,
prisoner to pieces of
yesterday
hurling into tomorrow.